Chapter 46 Jagg
JAGG
“Lunch, and now dinner?”
She shrugged, that familiar flicker of shyness softening her features—the same shift I’d noticed when she pulled the picnic basket from her truck earlier.
She was quieter when it came to real emotions.
Maybe even a little uneasy with vulnerability.
And damn it if that didn’t make her even more endearing.
It felt like I was getting a glimpse of something no one else got to see.
I didn’t know what to do, what to say. How could I tell her I was leaving? That I’d made a decision—one I hadn’t had the guts to follow through on yet.
… And I was hungry.
I took the plaid blanket from her hands—the same one we’d used at lunch.
“Thought maybe we could eat and watch the sun set,” she said, already reaching for the rest of the supplies.
It sounded… perfect. Exactly what I wanted at that exact moment. No—what I needed.
I laid the blanket at the edge of the dock while Sunny moved around me, lighting a circle of Citronella candles that cast golden glows across the wood. She set out a can of bug spray at the end, then added a few pillows, napkins, and plates—effort in every detail. A twilight dinner on the lake.
“Sit,” she said, a little firmer now.
So I did. I smoothed the edges of the blanket, needing something to do with my hands, already feeling the quiet tension that lingered beneath the peace of the moment. Like we both knew time was ticking.
She settled beside me, close, but not quite touching. Poured red wine into two paper cups and handed one over.
I took a sip. Rich. Smooth. Delicious.
She'd thought of everything.
And it scared the hell out of me how much I liked it.
“How’s Brute?” I asked.
Concern pulled her face. “Vet said he needs to have surgery.”
Words I’d heard more than a few times.
“You going to do it?”
She nodded. “Anything to take his pain away.”
I was glad to hear it. That damn dog had squirmed its way into my heart.
Sunny opened the thermal bag and began unloading the contents. The smell of salsa, cheese and bacon filled the air, but it wasn’t until she unwrapped a burrito the size of a mini-submarine and placed it on my plate that my stomach growled. Loud.
In awe, I shook my head and looked at her. “Don’t tell me it’s a breakfast burrito.”
“Sausage, egg, cheese, jalapenos, peppers, and bacon. Lots of bacon. You seem like a bacon kind of guy.”
“You seem like my dream woman.”
She smiled, continued, “Chips and salsa are in the bag, next to the roll of Tums for later.”
“Definitely. Dream woman.”
She laughed.
“I can’t believe you remembered when I told you I liked breakfast burritos.” I looked at the spread in front of us—scrambled eggs, peppers, and red potatoes smothered in cheese.
“Hang on… Where did you get all this?”
She continued stirring the hash, avoiding eye contact and a response.
“Sunny. Where did you get this food?”
She huffed out a breath, looked at me. “Well, I was going to wait until you took a bite and didn’t keel over and die, before I told you I cooked it. I made it.”
My jaw literally dropped.
“Oh well, thanks.” She rolled her eyes
I slammed it shut. “Sorry. I mean, you cooked this? Everything? I thought you didn’t cook.”
“You’re the one who said I should learn, right?”
“Well… yeah… but…”
“You didn’t expect me to listen?”
“Not really.”
“Well I did, and don’t get too excited until you try it.”
“Where did you get the food?”
“Farmer’s market. On the way back from the vet this afternoon.”
“Okay, but how did you make it? The kitchen isn’t even working.”
“Well, turns out your brother has a fire pit with this grill-grate-looking thing over it…”
I bit my tongue.
“… So I gathered some hickory wood—”
“How did you know what trees are hickory?”
“Now, that insults me. I know my trees. I have a hickory tree in my backyard. Anyway, I cooked the bacon, eggs, onions, peppers and potatoes in this heavy black skillet thing I found buried in the cabinets. It wasn’t so hard.
I’m sure I overcooked the bacon, but I didn’t want to spend the evening puking.
The salsa on the other hand?” She shook her head. “Holy cow. Not easy.”
“This is homemade salsa?”
“Yep.” She raised her palms. “Made by these two hands, chopped up by a hunting knife I found hanging in the back.”
My eyes rounded in horror.
She laughed. “I washed it, don’t worry. Anyway, it’s got fresh, chopped tomatoes—obviously—and onions, cilantro, garlic that took me thirty minutes to dice, lime…
and what else? Oh…” Her eyes widened with fear or concern, I wasn’t sure which.
“And jalapenos… I, uh… hope you like hot stuff. I… didn’t exactly take the seeds out.
I guess you’re supposed to take the seeds out? ”
“Sunny, I snort jalapeno seeds for breakfast. You’re definitely good there. You understand there’s nothing more delicious than homemade salsa, right?”
“Aside of breakfast burritos?”
“Of course.”
She smiled proudly. So damn cute. “Good cause the only things here that weren’t made by these two hands are the chips and the wraps. Your wraps, cause—”
“Gluten free, I remember.”
She winked. “Okay, dive in. Here we go. Good luck.”
We clanked forks.
Her shoulders tensed as I dipped the burrito in the salsa and took a bite.
It was freaking delicious.
“Oh my…” I smiled around a full bite, a piece of egg tumbling out of my mouth. “Good. Sunny—good.”
Her face lit with a child-like excitement.
With salsa smattered on my lips and eggs on my chin, I leaned forward, wrapped my spare hand around her head and pulled her in for a kiss.
She kissed, then yanked back, licking her lips and laughing.
“Sorry, lady, that’s what you get. This is damn good.”
“Good. Bon Appetit,” she said with flourish, but instead of digging into her own food, she crawled to the edge of the blanket and began undoing my boots.
I froze. Legit, froze.
I watched her unthread each lace and gently pull off each boot. The evening breeze swept over my hot skin like silk. I wiggled my toes. God, it felt good.
She looked up and smiled.
It was my second, cat-got-your-tongue, shocking moment in the last ten minutes.
A woman taking care of her man.
Sunny crawled back up and settled beside me. I stared at her a solid ten seconds.
“Sunny. Thank—”
“Shhh… eat. Dinner’s always more relaxing with shoes off… and those boots look miserable. No offense.”
I looked back at my feet, bare against the darkness, the comfort of it. Little thing—yet so big.
“Eat,” she repeated. “Relax.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
We ate like two starving POWs, watching the last ray of sun dip below the horizon.
The lake faded into one black mass in front of us, waves rippling in the breeze.
Stars began to twinkle around the biggest full moon I’d ever seen in my life.
Fireflies sparkled around us. They seemed to gravitate toward Sunny.
I understood how that could happen.
The best part, though? The easy, casual conversation we fell into.
No death, no murder, no brutal attacks, just light, fun conversation.
We talked about cooking, gardening. We talked about the Moon Magic Festival happening that night, and all the traffic and hodgepodge of people that had invaded the small, sleepy town.
I was so glad I wasn’t out there. Honestly?
There was nowhere else I’d rather be at that moment.
Max had sauntered up sometime in the middle of our conversation, covered in burrs and Lord knew what else.
He scored a few pieces of bacon then disappeared back into the woods.
I don’t think he liked the dock. It was the first time, since I could remember, that I’d forgotten about my cases.
Murder hadn’t crept up and stolen the few moments of peace I was allowing myself.
I’d relaxed.
Enjoyed myself.
And wasn’t that something?
I leaned back on my palms, wiggled my bare toes, and took a deep breath, wondering if this was what vacation felt like.
“All good?” She looked at me, her eyes bright with satisfaction. She enjoyed pleasing me, and that was definitely something I could get used to.
“Better than good.” I wiggled my toes again.
“Good. There’s one more thing.” She pushed off the blanket, disappeared to the corner of the dock, then returned with a small, brown box wrapped with a gold bow that sparkled under the moonlight.
I sat up straight.
She handed it to me.
“No.” I shook my head. “A gift?”
“Yes. A gift.”
“No, Sunny. You can’t…”
“Just open it. Come on. You’re making me nervous.”
I stared at her.
“Open it, Jagg.”
Shaking my head, I pulled the gold ribbon and opened the box. Tucked among red velvet was a gold, vintage compass.
My jaw dropped for the second time that night. “It’s not…”
She smiled, gently nodded.
I turned the compass over in my hands—MAJ was etched across the back. It was the compass my mother had sent me two weeks earlier. The replica she’d had made to replace the one I’d lost in Iraq.
“Where did you get this?”
“I made some calls.”
“Some calls? I pawned this.”
She shrugged as if it were no big deal.
“How did you know where I pawned it?”
“There’s only one pawn shop in town.”
“And it was still there?”
She shook her head. “No. The owner told me someone had purchased it pretty quick.”
“And they just gave you the name of the buyer?”
“No, unfortunately, they wouldn’t give me the name.”
“Must’ve been a woman.”
She winked.
“So how did you get it?”
“You know that little art shop in town? Mystic Maven’s?”
The image of Seagrave’s bloodied body popped into my head. “I know that place very well.”
“I stopped by. Hazel, the owner, and I go way back. I asked her if she had any idea who would buy an old compass from the pawn shop. Turns out, she knows a man who collects vintage compasses in town. I tracked him down. Bada bing bada boom. Got the compass.”
I turned the compass over in my hands, memories flooding me.
Happy memories. When times were easier, when my mom and dad were still together and in love and the biggest problems I had were finding sticks straight enough to whittle into a sword.
When I had no chronic pain in my body. It was as if I was seeing the compass in an entirely new light.
“Why did you do this?”
She looked down a moment. “You know, it broke my heart, the story about you and your mom.”
I set down the compass and turned fully to her. “Thank you, but there’s a lot of history there, Sunny.”
“I get it.” She picked up the compass, turned it over in her palms. “But it’s family, Jagg… You know, just because someone loses their way, it doesn’t mean you should toss them out of your life. Cast them aside.”
“My mom made that decision. She decided that for me.”
“People make mistakes.” She handed back the compass. “It sounds like your mom has gone above and beyond to try to rekindle things with you. I’m sure she didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“So.” I stared down at the compass. “You think I should call her back. Meet with her?”
“Forgive her.”
I trailed my finger over the top of the gold. “Why do I feel like there’s more to this? More than just forgiving my mother?”
She looked away.
I gently cupped her chin and turned her face toward mine.
“What’s going on, Sunny?”
Tears welled in her eyes, her bottom lip quivered.
“Don’t leave me, Jagg,” she whispered, sucking the air out of the world around me.
“… Don’t hurt me, Sunny,” I whispered back.
We grabbed for each other, giving in, releasing to whatever this undeniable thing was happening between us.
We kissed, long, slow kisses, under the stars, under the moonlight.
I threaded my fingers through her silky, black mane.
A desperation I’d never felt before guiding my body, my head, my heart.
Sunny wasn’t good for me. I wasn’t good for her. I didn’t care.
The only thing I knew was that I didn’t want to lose her.
I was not going to lose her.
I was going to trust her.
As I laid her down on the blanket, the compass tumbled onto the dock, the gold reflecting in the full moon—the arrow pointing directly at Sunny.
At us.