Page 57 of Possession

“You have. And that’s why I’m not angry. Anger gives me anxiety. I don’t need that bad energy. There’s enough swirling around us as it is.”

She’s got me there. I’ve had nothing but bad energy since I went undercover. But this would be a whole lot easier in the end if she hated me along the way.

“You grew up as a mobster’s daughter. You know there’s not much good energy in this business.”

At the mention of her father, she studies the shell in her hand before leaning down to rinse it off. Then she dries it on her black dress, not at all caring about the mess it makes. Without looking away from her hand, she asks, “Do you know the legend of the sand dollar?”

I’m from Queens, and we rarely went to the shore. But these are things I can’t tell her. “Can’t say that I do.”

She turns the shell over in her fingers and inspects it as she talks. “There are lots of legends. Some say they’re coins lost by mermaids or from the mythical city of Atlantis. Some even think it represents the story of Christ. The Birth, Crucifixion, and Resurrection.”

“I’ve never given any thought to a sand dollar before, baby, let alone that much.”

“I think they have a different meaning.” She looks up at me through my own sunglasses. “I think they represent freedom, strength, and even choosing your own path.”

What in the hell was I thinking bringing her here for tacos and beer? I assumed we’d sit in the sun and escape reality for thirty minutes, but all she’s done is mesmerize me. And that’s dangerous. “How’s that?”

“Strength because the creature who lives in this shell has protection from predators. They have the freedom to go wherever they want. Sometimes it’s together and other times alone.”

She studies the shell one more time before flipping it across the water at me. I catch it in midair before it falls for some other deep thinker to find. I turn it over in my hand. It’s dead and not even twice the size of a quarter. It’s not at all special and I bet there are tons just like it on this stretch of beach alone.

“They’re known for choosing their own paths, Boz. They represent freedom and the ability to walk away from environments that are no longer working for them. Doesn’t that sound like the perfect life?”

“That is a legend,” I say and slide the fossil into my pocket. The cynical side in me doesn’t have a hard time shining on any day. “Hardly possible in real life.”

She lifts a foot and kicks saltwater my way. “So negative, Boz. We need to work on that.”

I need to change the subject fast. I do not need to get in deep with LandynTorres. What I really need to do is push her away while keeping her alive and safe. “I need your help with something.”

She tucks her hair behind her ear. “More scary dinner guests to entertain? I’m getting good at that, if I do say so myself.”

I shake my head. “Rocco. He’s moving into the house and will work with me as an intern. I want him to get his GED, and I want you to tutor him.”

“Want, want, want,” she mocks. “You do remember I dropped out of college, right? I’m no teacher.”

“Not asking you to help him pass the MCAT, chica. I want you to help him get his high school diploma.”

She swishes her foot around in the water. “I’m trying to figure out what it means when you call me chica or baby or just plain Landyn.”

I ignore her and keep talking. “He needs his GED, and you need something to do. Problem solved.”

“So I’m your problem now too?”

“You’re a lot of things, baby. A problem is at the bottom of a long list.”

“You’re way sweeter at funerals. I like sweet Boz, but I don’t like funerals. Though Damian’s was nice.”

I don’t try to bite back my smirk. “Be careful who you say that around.”

I can almost see her roll her eyes behind my shades. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

I lift my chin. “Let’s go. We need to get back before they come looking for us.”

She carefully makes her way over the rocky ocean floor until she’s standing in front of me with her black dress still hitched around her upper thighs. “You don’t seem like a picnic kind of guy. Thank you for today.”

Even though I know I shouldn’t, I can’t help but touch her when she’s this close. I lift my hand and tap the end of her nose with the tip of my index finger before claiming her hand. “Time to get back to reality.”

“Reality,” she drawls. “You’re a real downer. You’re forcing me to be the optimist in our marriage.”

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