Page 88 of One Last Promise

“By lying to me?”

He bit his words back, arched his eyebrow, and then, “I don’t think I’m the only one lying here, London.”

She gasped. “I don’t know what I was thinking . . .”

“London!”

She held up her hand. “Just stay away from me.”

Then she walked away.

And he stood there, like the man in the river hanging on to his car, watching the floodwater of his own lies sweep everything away.

“Is your answer always pie?”

Tillie sat in the truck cab overlooking Kincaid Park, the wan light of a nearby streetlight shining against the pavement, the waters of the Cook Inlet dark save for the moonlight tipping the waves.

On the other side of the road, across from the park, Ted Stevens Airport shone like a beacon in the night, and occasionally, airplanes jetted off for the lower forty-eight or Hawaii, or even international destinations like Russia or Seoul.

An empty container sat between them, just the crumbles of an order of hot, spicy midnight chicken remaining, along with a few unclaimed French fries.

But it was the apple pie that seemed to find the right place in her empty stomach. Cinnamon,nutmeg, apples . . .

Or maybe it was the just sense of . . . safety. Of being with Moose, and . . .

She shouldn’t be here. But she hadn’t been able to stop herself from lowering his bear gun when he’d stepped up to her, his expression gentle and urgent, his soft voice delivering the words she so longed to believe.“You can trust me. I will help you.”

Starting, apparently, with chicken and pie.

“The answerisalways pie,” he said now, finishing off his own piece of pie. “It’s better than a shot of whiskey.”

She glanced at him, not expecting that comment. “Oh, really?”

He gave her a wry look. “Yep.”

There was so much more there, in his eyes. But they weren’t here to unearthhisdemons.

So she took a breath and, “My mom made amazing apple pie.” And she didn’t know where that had come from, but starting there felt easiest.

He closed his empty pie container and picked up a cup of hot cocoa, sipped it. He’d pushed his front seat back and now leaned back into the door, considering her. “I would have expected key lime pie in Florida.”

“Apple is my dad’s favorite. He’s from Minnesota. He moved to Florida when he was a teenager, and met my mom. She was originally from Puerto Rico, and her family were immigrants.”

“Not really, though, because you’re a US citizen, too, if you’re born in Puerto Rico.”

“True. And both of my parents took that pretty seriously. My dad enlisted after 9-11. I was six years old. He became a marine.”

“That makes sense.”

“We lived in North Carolina for the first four years—he was deployed on a ship, and then he reenlisted and became a Marine Raider.”

“MARSOC.”

“Yeah. We moved off base and bought a homein Jacksonville, North Carolina, and then, when I was twelve, my mom died of cancer.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It was terrible. Worst part was that they didn’t catch it early—she was sick a lot and finally got in to see the doctor, and when she did, it was all over. She died less than three months later. Dad was devastated.”

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