Chapter 10
Tropical Pause
The morning thunderstorm had passed, and the resort buzzed with muted urgency. Staff cleared broken umbrellas from patios. Replaced towels. Checked tech. Soothed guests. It had been a violent one.
Lena moved through it all like she was skating just ahead of the next disaster, her chest tight from the routine pressure of keeping everything together while feeling like she might splinter apart.
The humidity clung to her skin, thick and oppressive, and every muscle in her back screamed for rest that she couldn’t afford.
She smiled when she spotted a friendly figure curled in a lounge chair near the edge of the infinity pool, laptop balanced on her knees and a hibiscus tucked behind one ear.
“Kate Danvers,” Lena called, her voice rougher than she intended. “You’re looking alarmingly like someone who isn’t terrified of deadlines.”
Kate glanced up and grinned. “That’s because I’ve decided to embrace selective denial: if I don’t acknowledge the deadline, it can’t hurt me.”
Lena snorted, the tension in her chest loosening at the easy banter. “Bold, yet delusional. I like it.”
“Come sit. You look like you’ve been put through a blender.”
“I have. Its name is Ivory Sands.”
Lena dropped into the chair beside Kate, her legs heavy as adrenaline drained away. She stretched them out and let the sun bake into her skin—warmth seeping past the surface tension, finding all the cold, knotted places inside. She badly needed this. To just… stop.
When had she become so tense? Right. Around the third hour of crisis management.
Kate shut her laptop and set it aside before twisting around to face Lena. Those eyes—observant, kind—saw too much. Lena both loved it and hated it.
“Is this your first actual break today?”
Lena nodded, tilting her face up to the sun, eyes closed, soaking in the warmth like she could store it for later. Like it might fill some of the hollow spaces inside. “Yup. Been running on fumes and charm.”
“Guessing the charm is more reliable.”
“That depends. Do bribery and passive-aggressive smiles count as charm?”
Kate chuckled, the sound soft and genuine. “Only if they come with fresh beach towels.”
Quiet settled between them for a moment. Easy. Real. The kind of quietude Lena used to share with Emma before she left, before distance took her away. She shoved the thought away when her throat tightened.
“I never got to thank you. For what you did during the whole… mess. With me.” Kate murmured, her voice vulnerable in a way that made Lena’s heart squeeze.
Lena looked over, surprised. The sun danced off Kate’s hair. “You don’t need to thank me.”
“I do, though.” Kate’s expression was earnest, and Lena felt exposed under the weight of it. “You stood by me. Supported me. You never looked at me like I was overreacting, even when things got really bad. That mattered.”
The words struck Lena deep, somewhere she’d tried to armor over. Her throat burned. “Yeah, well, I’ve been there. Gaslighting and false accusations are kind of my greatest hits.” Bitterness leaked through despite her best efforts.
Kate reached over and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. A fleeting touch, but it landed like a lifeline. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Warmth spread from where their skin connected, and for a moment Lena wanted to cling, wanted to lean into the solidarity and understanding radiating from this woman who got it—who knew what it felt like to be doubted, dismissed, attacked.
Instead, she smirked, needing to lighten the mood before the emotion cresting in her spilled over. “Glad you are too. You’re like… if sarcasm and warm banana bread had a love child.”
Kate blinked, then laughed—a bright, surprised sound that made Lena grin. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
“Don’t get used to it. I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”
Their laughter mingled, light and real, and for the first time since Chester entered her life, Lena felt something close to peace. She didn’t have to constantly tread water. She could touch solid ground if she tried.
Kate rubbed her hand, a small frown creasing her brow. “Huh. That was… odd.”
Lena’s peace flickered. “What?”
“I don’t know. But… when I touched you, I got this little jolt of something. Emotion. Like it didn’t come from me.” Kate shook her head, looking almost embarrassed. “Probably just sleep deprivation.”
Bzzt. Lena groaned and picked up her phone.
David:
Need you in tech suite. Something weird with the sensors. Bring caffeine.
Lena sighed and stood, her moment dissolving like sugar in water. Of course. “Back to the chaos.”
A mischievous twinkle sparkled in Kate’s eyes. “That from David?”
“Yep.”
Kate raised a brow, mouth twitching in a smile. “Weird tech issues and coded flirtation. Are you two flirting over firewalls yet?”
Heat rushed to Lena’s face—unexpected and unwelcome. An immediate denial jumped to her lips. “We’re not—”
Kate held up a finger, her smile widening. “Let me stop you right there. I’m a writer. I know tension when I see it. Just don’t wait too long. Life’s short, and the last time I blinked, I ended up locked in a sauna by a lunatic.”
Lena snorted, the heat in her cheeks refusing to fade. David. The thought of him brought a confusing swirl of feelings—attraction, yes, but also alarm. Fear of wanting something. Worry it would go horribly wrong. “Noted.”
Kate hesitated, something softer crossing her expression. “Hey. Want to grab lunch tomorrow? Just us. You look like you could use a proper meal and someone to talk to. Not that I can replace Emma, but I’m a good listener.”
The mention of Emma stung—the familiar ache of the loneliness Lena ignored daily. But Kate’s offer… it landed differently. Genuine. Without expectation or judgment.
Lena paused, surprised by how much she wanted to say yes. How much she needed to. “That obvious, huh?”
Kate gave her a crooked smile. “Only to someone who’s been through the spin cycle, too.”
Solidarity. Recognition. The kind of empathy that didn’t require explanations.
Lena nodded, something like comfort seeped into her chest. “Lunch sounds great. I’m off tomorrow, so I’ll be kicking around. I better get moving before the Tech God curses me.”
She turned to leave, already pulling up the resort’s sensor grid on her phone—but not before glancing back to see Kate watching her with that same gentle understanding. Someone who saw her. Someone who got it. Someone who looked at her and didn’t see broken or too much or damaged goods.
Lena didn’t feel so alone anymore.