11. CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ETHAN
T he first light of morning wakes me, just as it does every day. I roll over and stretch, ready to start my day, until my surroundings register. My heart drops. I’m in my bed. Kinzie was in my bed.
What the fuck?
I roll back, inspecting the empty spot next to me.
How the hell did I get here? And where is Kinz?
Hurriedly, I reach for a clean T-shirt and pull it over my head. Then I make my way through the living room. Kinz isn’t out here either. Pulse accelerating, I open the door and scan the boat.
“You’re up early,” she says the moment my feet hit the deck. She’s standing at the bow, watching the sun rise over the water. With a glance over at me, she pulls at the hem of a shirt. My shirt. A black long-sleeve pullover emblazoned with the words Hope Island Police .
Relief washes over me at the sight of her. She didn’t leave. Though why I care so much doesn’t make a whole lot of sense now that I’m thinking about it.
She turns around and leans against the ledge of the boat. Her dark hair wisps behind her as a subtle wind blows.
With a nod, I let out a heavy sigh. “About last night…”
She frowns, her brows pulled low in concern. “Do you have nightmares often?”
Swallowing hard, I close my eyes. A nightmare. Thank fucking God it was just a nightmare.
Wait. Shit. It was a nightmare.
My stomach plummets to my feet.
Choking back my trepidation, I lift my hand and point back toward my room. “Is that why I woke up in there?”
“You were doing this funny thing with your hand, like you were talking to somebody. Maybe yelling at them,” she says, her expression serious. “I’m not sure. It was hard to make out your words.”
I lower my head and rub at the back of my neck. I don’t talk about my nightmares with many people.
“Your foot. You dropped a glass on it and didn’t even flinch.”
I follow her gaze to the fresh bruise on the top of my right foot.
“I can’t believe that didn’t wake you up.”
Dread washes over me like it does each time I discover there’s been a witness to my nightmares. When I first moved home and stayed with Jill, she vocalized her concern, worried I might do something to myself unknowingly. She wanted to cure me, which only heightened my stress, causing more night terrors to plague my sleep.
Victoria’s concern couldn’t have been more different. She was worried about herself, fearful I might hit her, or worse yet, disturb her sleep.
Kinzie, though, doesn’t seem fazed. It’s a relief, though I don’t quite know how to respond.
As I take her in, noticing the mug in her hand, I change the topic. “I see you found my coffee.”
She wrinkles her nose. “It tastes like dirty feet. What kind of cave man are you?” She presses the mug to my chest.
“The kind who likes black coffee.” With a grin, I take it from her and bring it to my lips. But my smile quickly vanishes when the flavor of the dark liquid registers. “This is disgusting.”
Kinzie laughs and takes a step back. “You thought I was lying?”
“How do you mess up coffee?” I croak out.
Her mouth drops open in protest.
Before she can retort, though, it hits me. “Did you use the coffee pot or the Keurig?”
“I wasn’t about to make a full pot of coffee for myself.”
Dragging a hand over my face, I groan. “The water reservoir is filled with vinegar. I was cleaning it out.” Laughing, I grab her hand and drag her back into the cabin. “Come on. I’ll make you some real coffee.”
Inside my cramped kitchen, Kinzie sits on the only barstool, her dark hair flowing down her back, and waits while I brew a fresh pot of Kona.
“What made you buy a houseboat?” she asks, her voice audibly lighter than it was yesterday. When I turn to her, she’s wearing the smallest of smiles, but she quickly flattens her lips when she notices me looking.
For a moment, I silently argue with myself about how to respond. I could lie and tell her that the boat is the only thing I can afford right now. Or that I haven’t decided where I want to live just yet, or that living on the ocean was a great alternative to being locked into a mortgage.
When I drop two coffee mugs in front of her, she says, “Does it have to do with your nightmares?”
My heart stumbles at her ability to call me out on my bullshit. “Sort of,” I grumble. “You’re going to think it sounds ridiculous.”
“Try me,” she says, dropping an elbow to the countertop.
As I pour the coffee into her mug, I avoid eye contact. For the first time, I think there’s a chance that I won’t be judged. That if anyone could understand, it’s her. And with our past lurking over me, I really don’t want to lie to her.
“Victoria’s brother, Ray, wanted to live on the ocean. He said when he got out of the Marines, he was going to buy a houseboat and travel the coastline up to Maine. This feels like just about the only way I can honor him. And plus, I like being out here on my own.”
“Ray was killed, I take it?”
I shake my head. Then I look up and meet her gaze. “He took his own life.”
Kinzie’s eyes go wide. “Oh,” she breathes. “I…”
“Not many people know. The truth I mean.”
Her face pinches in confusion.
“When we were in Afghanistan, our convoy was targeted. We came under some intense enemy fire the second night we were out there. Ray and I were hit pretty hard. After we were extracted, and after the adrenaline wore off, the nightmares started. For Ray, it was too much.”
I breathe, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Most people think Ray died from complications. It was better not to correct the assumptions.”
Kinzie places her hand on mine. It’s soft and warm, and there’s a tenderness in the touch that spreads through me. A connection I’ve missed, maybe even yearned for, but have forgotten. Victoria was more about appearances than affection.
She watches me, her skin free of last night’s makeup. The dusting of light brown freckles high across her cheekbones is just as I remember it. She’s beautiful. Damn, it’s hard to look away. And not just because of her freckles. It’s the deep blue of her eyes and her long, thick lashes. Her lips, thin on top and curvy at the bottom. Her slender nose and the way it divots at the base so subtly, one wouldn’t think she broke it when she was a kid. Kinzie was pretty as a teenager. Now, though, with curves and sharper angles, she’s gorgeous.
“Is that how you met Victoria?” she asks, gently pulling her hand away, as if she’s read my mind and doesn’t want to get caught up in the moment I’m clearly having.
She takes a sip of coffee, and I follow suit, pushing aside the thoughts spiraling in my head.
Clearing my throat, I say, “Yes. I met her at his funeral, though I’m not sure if I’d call our first encounter memorable. It wasn’t until later, when Ray’s dad reintroduced us at one of the veteran events, that I took notice. I remembered Ray asking me to take care of her. I guess I kind of took the request a bit too seriously.”
She lifts a brow, silently indicating that I should continue.
I’d rather not, so I shake my head. “I know what you’re going to say.”
Straightening on the stool, she laughs. “You do, do you? Enlighten me.”
“You’re going to say Victoria was never my type. That women like her date for social status, and it’s obvious I don’t bring that to the table.” I tuck my chin and study the steaming liquid in my mug. “And while I recognize the truth in that now, I can also admit I was probably using her in the same way she was using me. But that’s all irrelevant now.”
“Actually,” she says, holding her mug aloft, “I was going to ask about the other veterans. Ramon mentioned that you and his sister have created some sort of outreach program.”
The interest and respect in her tone make me smile, and again, when our gazes meet, there’s a tug deep inside my chest. I don’t talk about this much, not even to my own family.
“Victoria’s dad created a foundation in Ray’s name. For the most part, Kamilla and I run it. The purpose is to support the mental and physical well-being of combat veterans. She’s involved with the medical side, while I spearhead everything else.”
Kinzie lifts her brows. “Everything else?”
“You know, golf, tackle football, meditation. That sort of stuff.”
Kinzie smiles behind her mug.
“Did Ramon mention the outreach program before or after your three martinis?” There’s no stopping the grin that splits my face. “And is he aware of your inability to hold your alcohol?”
Kinzie laughs so hard coffee shoots out of her mouth and back into her mug.
I toss a napkin at her and grin.
“I don’t drink very often,” she says, dabbing at her mouth, “so I’m a lightweight. And in my defense, you caught me on two very difficult days.”
“Difficult?” My gut twists at the way her light tone has suddenly shifted to something darker and vulnerable.
Her smile disappears as she sets down her mug. “It’s been over a decade.” She swallows thickly. “It’s not like you left on good terms. I had no idea you were back in Hope Island, and the first time I saw you again, I was breaking the news that your fiancée didn’t want to get married. And now we’re pretending to what? Hook up? Date?”
My chest tightens so violently I worry for a minute that the heart attack I’ve been working so hard to avoid is finally going to take me out. She’s right, I didn’t tell her I was back. I didn’t tell anyone other than my family, and they only knew because when I was injured, the Red Cross called my mom.
But none of this was my idea. I sure as hell didn’t ask to pretend date.
“This was probably a mistake. I don’t know what I was thinking.” Kinzie stands and pushes the stool under the counter with a little more force than necessary. “Can you drive me back to my sister’s? I’ll just tell her it didn’t work out.”
“Kinz…”
We should talk. It’s what I wanted to do yesterday, when she walked through that door. So why can’t I open my mouth now and explain?
Kinzie doesn’t wait for me to continue, though. She’s already retrieved her dress and phone and is halfway out the door.