Page 35 of Island Homecoming

She left her shoes in the truck and padded across the path through the dunes. Under her feet, the sand was cooler, just a hint of warmth lingering from the sunny day. “I’ve missed this,” she said, mostly to herself.

They walked toward the tide line, side by side, but not touching. “Key West doesn’t have this kind of quiet,” she said. “At least not often. There’s always a hum of energy just waiting to break loose and get crazy.”

“You know you can talk to me,” Nash said.

She stopped, her gaze drifting out over the waves. “I know.” Maybe that’s what she needed more than a bout of hot, intense sex. Except she’d talked to people and was still stuck.

“Look, Jess.” He stroked his fingers over her arm, shoulder to wrist. “It’s been a minute since we’ve seen each other.”

His touch left a tingling warmth under her skin. Distracting. Delicious.

“As much as it surprised me at first, I still care about you. A great deal.”

“That sounds like a backhanded compliment,” she teased.

“Just a fact. I didn’t expect all the things you make me feel,” he confessed. “We didn’t part on good terms, but being with you now has shown me all the good stuff between us. We were friends, Jess. And I’m not some pathetic loner pining for the one who got away. I didn’t collapse or withdraw when you left.”

She wasn’t sure about the point he was trying to make, but she laughed. Nash would never be a loner. He drew people to him and he reveled in those friendships whether they were close ties or acquaintances.

“I have other friends,” he continued. “I’m sure you can say the same thing. But for me, no one else is you. You used to tell me everything. You would just blurt out whatever crossed your mind.”

“You’re not wrong.” Something about Nash had always made her feel safe. She’d happily told him more than she’d ever told anyone else, even her parents. Inexplicable, but true. And definitely a gift. “You want to know why I’m back.”

She started walking again, her toes squishing in the wet sand. Could she tell him? Did she want to burden him with that?

“I think you want to tell me,” he countered, matching her pace.

“Some things don’t improve with conversation.”

“I think that only applies to the things that aren’t weighing on your shoulders.” His hand curled around hers. “It’s obvious—to me—that you need to dump something.”

Resisting, wanting to protect him, she pulled away. “You never would have pushed when we were kids.”

“Was there anything that happened when we were kids that made you feel the way you feel now?”

His gentleness was annoying. She crossed her arms. “You don’t even know how I feel.”

“Do you?”

She turned away from all his inherent kindness, wishing she could sink into the water and float away. His logic battered against her resistance. Feelings had never been her strong suit. They could feel too messy or sticky. Too volatile. As a cop, her detachment helped her do the job. She had compassion and exercised it effectively to manage a crisis without getting bogged down in the emotions. Until her last day on duty.

“I feel lost,” she heard herself confess. “Ever since…” She couldn’t just blurt out that she shot her friend’s cousin. “I feel caught. Outside myself. Everything I wanted is sort of fogged over and I’m not sure why.”

“What happened?” he asked. “Jess, please. The truth can’t be worse than sitting here wondering what put that haunted look in your eyes.”

It was the way he said it that broke the barrier. Telling him was better than making an issue of the whole thing. It wasn’t classified information and she didn’t have to give him all the gory details. “I answered a call, with plenty of backup. A woman was being threatened with deadly force. Before we could get control of the situation, the suspect tried to shoot. I shot and killed him.”

“You saved her life.”

She nodded. “I had the best angle.” She trembled, the coldness in her heart seeping through her entire body. She moved up the beach and sat down hard in the dry sand.

He joined her. “They call it justified, right? When you use deadly force the right way.”

She nodded, swiping a tear from her cheek. “Yes. I was cleared of any wrongdoing. Everyone on the scene, even the intended victim, agreed the man wanted to be shot.”

“I believe you,” he said. “But how does anyone know that?”

“Call it cop instinct. He had an option to cooperate and then he made a deliberate move of aggression. If I hadn’t fired my gun, he would have killed an innocent woman.”

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