Chapter 14 #2
He nodded. For some reason, he didn’t want to leave. Maybe because she’d asked without demanding. Maybe because she hadn’t treated him like he was broken.
She simply stood there. Waiting.
“His name was Bullet,” Hoot finally said.
“Bullet?”
“Nickname.”
Her lips curved upwards into a smile. “Of course it is.”
He leaned against the worktable. “His real name doesn’t matter. He loved the nickname more.”
Lark smiled. Hoot found himself smiling too. “Kid was barely old enough to vote.”
“He was young?”
“Too young. But full of piss and vinegar.” He stared toward the windows. “He was the newest guy on the team and thought he was invincible, as most newbies do.”
“Sounds like he was a lot of fun.”
“He was a pain in the ass.”
Lark laughed. “That sounds affectionate.”
“It was.” Hoot surprised himself. He kept talking, telling Lark everything he could remember about his fallen teammate.
About Bullet’s terrible jokes. His obsession with being the fastest guy on the team.
The way he’d managed to get under everyone’s skin while simultaneously becoming impossible not to like.
“He sounds wonderful.”
“He was.” Hoot swallowed. “That’s why it still doesn’t make sense.”
“What?”
“Karma.”
She frowned. He hadn’t meant to say it aloud. “The mission… before it...” He stopped. Lark waited. “He’d asked the team if we believed in karma.”
“And?”
“Bullet did.”
She smiled faintly. “Maybe he was right.”
Hoot looked at her. “Didn’t seem like it.” After a pause lost in his thoughts, he revealed, “He saved my life and paid for it with his own.”
Lark inhaled sharply, and a sudden gasp escaped her.
Her hand instinctively shot up to cover her mouth.
Her eyes began to well with tears, but she blinked them back.
He watched it all. Gauging every reaction.
Never once seeing condemnation as he expected.
Suddenly, the guilt he carried seemed lighter.
“I’m so sorry you had to go through that,” she said softly.
Before he could stop her, she had wrapped her arms around his waist, giving him a tight squeeze.
He stood motionless for a moment before his arms slowly moved to reciprocate.
He closed his eyes, then lowered his head so that his nose was nestled within the strands of her hair.
He breathed deeply, inhaling everything that was Lark.
A faint, floral scent, possibly from her shampoo, struck his senses. However, she also carried the scent of wood shavings and the earthy aroma of earth, or perhaps it was clay. He’s seen clay sculptures in her shop and had wondered which were hers.
They stood like that, each quietly enjoying the comfort the other could give. When she stepped back from the hug, he let her go. Her smile was soft when she said, “Thanks for telling me about him.”
Something shifted inside him. The tightness he’d carried since the nightmares had increased, loosened. Just a little. He looked down at her, taking in her features.
What captivated him the most was her eyes.
They were an unusual blend of green and gray, shifting with the light and her mood—sometimes more mossy green, sometimes cool gray.
A smattering of faint freckles crossed her nose and cheeks, adding to the youthful warmth of her face, while her expressive brows and full lips made it nearly impossible for her to hide what she was thinking for long.
She wasn’t conventionally polished like the women in her mother’s social circle, but there was something naturally captivating about her.
Something Hoot found increasingly difficult to look away from.
He was getting lost in her. Not her body. Not the beautiful woman she’d been at the gala. Her.
The woman who talked too much. The woman who built things out of pennies. The woman who somehow managed to get stranded on an island and hit her head on a table in the same week. The woman who’d just listened to him talk about a dead teammate without once looking uncomfortable.
His phone pinged. He closed his eyes. “Fuck,” he grumbled.
Lark smiled. “Work?”
He took out his phone, giving it a brief glance before answering, “Yeah.” He reluctantly straightened.
She picked up the piece of wood. “You should take this.”
He hesitated. “Are you sure?”
“If it helps you figure out what’s going on, yes. It is weird that it was on that island, right?” she wondered.
“Yeah.” He took it, and their fingers brushed. Neither moved. For one suspended moment, they simply stared at each other.
Hoot lifted his hand. His fingers brushed her cheek. Then his palm settled against it. Her skin was warm and so soft. Too soft for his calloused and battered hands.
Lark’s breath caught. “So... thank you,” he murmured.
“For what?”
“Listening.”
Her eyes held his. “Anytime.”
That word nearly undid him. Hoot dropped his hand. Before he could do something stupid—like kiss her—he stepped away. He headed for the stairs.
“Hoot?”
He looked back. “Yeah?”
“Be careful.”
His chest tightened. “I will.”
He left before he could get sucked any deeper into whatever was happening between them. Because Lark wasn’t his job. She wasn’t his responsibility. And she definitely wasn’t supposed to matter. He clung to those lies. Yet somehow, those falsehoods were already slowly unraveling.