Page 44 of High Intensity

“Don’t see how it could,” he mumbles behind me. “I imagine that kind of loss stays the same, no matter how much time passes.”

For a moment I well up again; his words of understanding mean more than empty condolences could.

“True.”

“Your daughter would’ve been thirteen now?” he asks.

I appreciate that after telling him about my daughter, he doesn’t shy away from asking about her. People generally avoid the topic, either thinking it would be difficult for me, or simply uncomfortable dealing with grief in general. Ironically, trying to pretend she didn’t exist is more painful than remembering she did.

“Almost. Her birthday is in June.”

“So twelve. Close to Hayley’s age,” he observes quite perceptively. “Is that why you’re drawn to her?”

I turn around in his arms so I can look him in the eyes.

“I’m sure that’s a big part of it. I’d like to think Macy might have developed the same kind of courage and survival instincts. She definitely had the same adventurous spirit,” I share, looking into his warm eyes shimmering in the dark. “But also, because I know what it’s like to have your entire world ripped away from you, leaving you feeling utterly alone.”

“And despite your dislike for hospitals, you show up trying to make sure she doesn’t.” His smile is soft.

I shrug. “It’s a small price to pay.”

He hums an acknowledgement before asking, “How was she doing today?”

I haven’t had a chance to tell him about today’s developments so I fill him in on what Sheriff Ewing told me. Wolff doesn’t look surprised when I mention the suspected sabotage of the plane.

“I’d been wondering if maybe the girl was hiding because she saw or heard something,” he shares. “Something that scared an eleven-year-old enough to brave the wilderness in a snowstorm.”

“She seems to be responding to Nugget, but still not communicating, so I guess that could be traumaorfear.”

“Or both,” he suggests. “Either way, I have a feeling she’ll keep mum unless she feels she can completely trust someone. At this time, you’re the most consistent person for her, so keep doing what you’re doing.”

“I told her I’d be back in the morning.”

“Good.” Wolff presses a kiss against my forehead and rolls on his back, tucking me to his side. “Let’s get some sleep.”

I put my hand on his chest and hook my leg over one of his. Then I close my eyes and try to remember the last time I went to sleep cuddled up with a naked man in my bed. I know for a fact it’s been longer than eight years, since Chris was never a cuddler, and neither am I.

Or so I thought.

Wolff

“You’re whistling.”

I turn my head to find Fletch glaring at me.

“I’m aware,” I finally give up on the mini stare-down he challenged me to.

“It’s fucking annoying,” he grumbles.

“He probably got laid last night,” Jackson pipes up as he hands me a two-by-four he just cut to size for the new door opening I’m framing. “His truck didn’t show up until this morning. And for the record, I’d be fucking whistling too if I got some action.”

“You got laid?” JD walks in, carrying a sheet of green board.

It took us all of three hours to completely gut Jackson’s bathroom this morning. Apparently, he didn’t waste any time once he’d made up his mind. He was waiting for me when I got back and roped me in as he’d apparently done with Fletch and JD, because they showed up ten minutes later.

I don’t have any special skills, but as Jackson pointed out, it was my idea and I live conveniently close. Aside from the fact Fletch has a thing for demolition, he and Jackson have gotten pretty close these last months. Both those guys went through hell and back serving their country, and bear the scars on their bodies and their souls.

JD is the handy one, he also owns a shitload of tools needed, and he did a lot of work on Dan’s house. Dan has his own project at home he’s working on today, but apparently, he’ll be here to tackle the plumbing when we get to it.

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