Page 9 of The Stone Family Warrior

“You said, first of all, it leads me to believe there would be a ‘second’ thing.”

She hesitated. “Fine. I can’t believe I’m really asking you this, but did Cheryse ever give you the note I left for you?”

The question made him take pause. He scanned his memories for a note. “No. You left a note for me?”

A light laugh. “I knew she wouldn’t give it to you.”

Maybe it was stupid, but his ego was stoked. “What did it say?”

She met his gaze, and once again, he was struck by how beautiful this woman was. “You know, my sixteen-year-old self really had it bad for you.”

Shock coursed through him. “That’s what you said, but remember, you wouldn’tkissme?”

“Remember, you never responded to my note, so I guess we’re even.”

He shook his head, letting out a light laugh. “I will figure out the note business.”

She eyed him, still smiling. Then she looked away. “Don’t worry about it. I mean, life throws stuff at you that makes an unreturned love note from twelve years ago not that important.”

Trent nodded slowly. He recognized the look in her eyes—it was the same look he’d seen countless times after fellow sailors had endured war. There was a hollowness that told him she’d been through something hard. “Life does throw hard things at you.”

For a few seconds their eyes held.

Finally, she broke from his gaze. “Get in.”

“Thank you.” He rushed around the back of her. As he paused at the license plate, the number on it caught his eye. DAC-1911. He paused.

“Trent?” she asked.

He didn’t move, only stared at the license plate.

“What’s wrong?” She got out of the car and stepped around to his side, staring at the license plate too.

He pointed to the plate. “Why did you pick those numbers on your plate?”

Looking confused, she shook her head. “I didn’t pick the numbers.”

“191100716019633975,” he muttered. He had taken the numbers apart and put them back together a million times, it felt like. “191100716019633975.”

“Trent, are you okay?”

“Not really.” He needed to get home. “1911. 1911. 1911.” It had to mean something.

“Trent?”

He jerked back to the present and rushed to his side of the car. “Let’s go.”

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