Page 50 of The Fix
She felt a ripple of warmth, and that hook in her heart loosened. He looked a little embarrassed, and it was a vulnerable thing to ask, and it made her feel warm and honored and slightly shy too. But the most surprising part was that he’d remembered that moment, and she was almost shocked that she did too. But she did. As soon as he’d mentioned it, she’d traveled right back. She’d actually thought about it before this. Maybe it was because it was less than an hour prior to her world tipping into the abyss. It was the figurativebefore. The clear sky ahead of the storm. And all herwhat-ifsstarted just before that moment.
“I was thinking about endings,” she told him.
His eyes roamed over her face, and she was struck by the recollection of that same intensity of interest that had been on his face that day. It was part of what had drawn her to him, even if she hadn’t recognized that at the time. “Endings?” he asked.
“I was thinking about how there’s always a last time for everything. That last hug. That last playdate. The last time your mom reads you a certain book. Big things, small things, and everything in between.” She closed her eyes and tipped her head back, feeling seventeen, standing in the sunshine, the breeze whispering through the trees. “I was thinking of the lasts that we don’t know are the lasts at the time, and if we did ...” Her voice trailed off. She wasn’t exactly sure how to finish that thought.
“If we did, we’d pay more attention,” he said.
She opened her eyes and their gazes met. “Yes.” She looked away and managed a smile, even if it felt sad. “And it’s so ... I don’t know.” She furrowed her brow. “Is it ironic? Sad? Funny? The fact that I was thinking about that right before I lost everylastand everynewwith my mom and my sister.”
He was quiet for a moment as she gathered herself. Below, the water ebbed and flowed. She appreciated that he didn’t try to fill thespace with asorrythat wasn’t his and that she didn’t need. She’d heard that word so much over the last decade. And she knew it was said out of kindness, but sometimes she wished people would be more specific becausesorryseemed so easy. And that was unfair of her, she knew that. People meant well. Theymeantsorry. They cared and they didn’t know specifically what to say, and so that word encompassed it all. But again, she was glad that she didn’t have to nod and say thank you in that specific moment.
“I think it’s good that we usually don’t know when a last is a last,” he finally said.
She tipped her head in question. “Why? You just said we’d appreciate them more if we knew.”
“No, I said we’d pay attention. And when you’re focusing on something, especially if it’s an end, you can’t enjoy it. The last time wouldn’t feel like the last time. The time before that would.”
She laughed. “There you go, complicating things again,” she said, harkening back to their conversation that final August day that had turned out to be its own last. She paused, though, and considered what he’d said. “But I agree. I think it’s right and ... good that we have no idea when we’re experiencing a last. The beauty is in the oblivion and in the ordinary.”
He smiled. It was slow and it was unknowingly sexy, and it made her nerves flutter in her tummy. “I hope talking with you like this isn’t a last,” he said, meeting her eyes and not looking away.
She smiled and she felt a little overwhelmed and slightly nervous, too, and so she took the teasing route. “Well, I’ll tell you what. How about it’s the first time I beat your ass at that big pool table inside, but not the last.” They’d agreed to take shifts watching Cyrus, but she wasn’t remotely tired, and they could only sit out here staring at the ocean for so long.
He laughed back as he stood and reached out his hand. “We’ll see about that.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Rex locked the door of their rental and walked behind Cami as she headed to the car. Despite the choice of fourteen bedrooms, they’d each taken turns sleeping on the leather couch in the basement, where they passed the time playing pool. He massaged his shoulder, working out the kink born of the position he’d been in when he’d finally drifted off at about four a.m., only to wake an hour and a half later.
But Rex had become used to catching an hour here and an hour there while working, and he knew he’d be fine. He’d watched Cami toss and turn under the blanket at the end of the couch, but she’d managed to get about four hours of sleep as Rex had mapped out the exact routes they’d take from place to place on their list to best use the time they had.
The morning air was crisp and clean and scented with salt and pine. He got behind the wheel as Cami pulled the seat belt across her chest, and then he backed out of the driveway and turned onto the street. She set the fully charged laptop up on the center console so they could keep watch over Cyrus, who was currently sitting on the bed, waiting for his pancakes.
Rex let out a breath of relief as they pulled up in front of the shop fifteen minutes early and saw that the lights were already on. They exited the car and made their way to the door, Rex knocking when they found it locked.
A slender man wearing jeans and a mustard-yellow T-shirt came toward the door, flipped the lock, and pulled it open. “We’re not quite open yet. Come back in fifteen.”
Rex held his hand out so the sunburned guy couldn’t close the door. “Sorry to bother you before you’re open, but we spoke to your daughter yesterday, and she told us to come back in the morning and talk to you. It’s an emergency. Joel, right?”
He looked at Rex skeptically, but then pulled the door open wider and invited them in. “We just need to know if a man was in here at some point last week. We have a photo.”
“What kind of emergency is this?”
“It’s involving a kidnapped child. We’re not at liberty to share more than that.”
Joel looked briefly alarmed and gestured to see what they had to show him. Rex was grateful that he didn’t ask for some ID, not because he cared about lying to the man in this instance, but because it would have wasted a few more minutes they didn’t have.
Cami showed him the photo on her phone, and Joel leaned in. “Yeah, that dude was here. Saturday, I think. He was kinda rude, so I remember him.”
“You do?” Rex felt a flare of hope. “Did he say anything memorable? Or about where he was staying?”
“He asked if kids like Spider-Man comics, and I said yes and suggested a few other choices too. He kinda just grunted and then walked out without saying thank you and let the door close right before another customer got to it.”
“Okay, great. Hey, thanks,” Rex said. “You’ve been really helpful. Can I give you my number in case he comes back in again? Don’t tell him someone’s looking for him, but if you could call me, you’d be helping a kid out.”
Joel grabbed a piece of paper and a pen from the counter behind him, and Rex jotted down his number, and then they thanked him againand left the shop. They practically ran back to the car, glancing at Cyrus and then looking at each other. “This is it. He’s within twenty miles.”
