Page 21 of The Deadly Shallows

She pulled back, swiping her tearstained cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she said between jarring hiccups.

His brows dipped. “Sorry for what?”

She sniffed on a hiccup. “For not holding it together.”

“Your friend just died. No one could hold it together with that kind of loss.”

She shook her head. “But I’m a soldier and a medic.”

“And a person. We have our jobs, our service, but that’s what we do—not who we are.”

“True, but I see tragedy all the time.”

“See, but not endure personally.”

She nodded, sobs breaking forth once more.

Austin’s neighborhood wasn’t what Caleb anticipated. Though he wasn’t quite sure what he’d anticipated.

Dimly lit by the glow of his headlights, single-story ranchers made up the neighborhood lining the sound. Mature trees lined both sides of the street between the asphalt and the sidewalk. Their overhanging branches and remnant of leaves provided a canopy over the narrow street.

“Fourth one down on the left after you cross Beacon,” Austin said, shifting slightly. She hadn’t complained about her arm. Acted like it was a bump or scrape. He worried she wouldn’t take Brooke’s advice to take care of herself, so he’d make sure he was around to help if she needed any.

He stopped at the four-way stop, happy to see speed bumps stretching out in front. No doubt there were kids running about during the day. It was one of those neighborhoods. The kind with perfect families of four—Mom, Dad, and two kids. He’d always longed for that kind of home, though it needn’t be perfect. He would have taken happy, or even one filled with basic love. Looking around, he bet Austin had grown up in a loving home, and the thought of that made him happy.

“Thanks for bringing me home,” she said.

“My pleasure.” It truly had been. Horrific circumstances aside, he’d enjoyed her company immensely today. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but seeing her try to help save Molly . . . the tender, vulnerable side of Austin had burrowed into his heart, and he didn’t want to leave her side. Not now. Not yet.

He cut the ignition and walked around the car to get the door for her.

She took his hand and stepped out. “I have no clue what’s in my fridge, but as neither of us has eaten since breakfast, would you like to stay for a very late dinner?”

Her invitation warmed him in a way he hadn’t felt in . . . he didn’t know when. But he played it cool. “Sure.” He chuckled. “Who can turn down an invitation like that?”

“Come on in,” she said, kicking her shoes off and dropping them into the white woven basket under the coat hooks.

He stepped inside, admiring the photographs on the wall. At first, they appeared abstract, but as he studied them one by one, he realized they were all shots of the ocean and the land surrounding it. The ripple of a conch shell close up. The sway of marsh reeds in the wind with a blur of motion captured in a sped-up time lapse.

“These pictures are amazing,” he said.

“Oh, thank you. Most people think they are messed up—like I don’t know what I’m doing.”

She took these photos? Another facet of an amazing woman. Caleb shook his head. “Then they aren’t looking close enough.”

She smiled. “I’m going to check out what’s in the fridge.” Nervousness flashed across her face as she turned toward the kitchen just beyond the front room.

“I’m starting to wonder if I’m risking my life dining here,” he said, hanging his jacket on one of the empty hooks on the wall. He slid his boots off, adding them to the basket.

“It’s not that bad,” she called, her voice echoing, her head inside the fridge. She popped out, biting her bottom lip. “On second thought, how about takeout? There’s a great deep-dish pizza place that delivers fast.” She looked at her watch. “They take orders until eleven, so we should be good.”

“Sounds great.” His stomach was growling, and who didn’t love pizza?

Austin called it in, and they were given a twenty-to-thirty-minute delivery window.

“Would you like a glass of wine?” she asked. “We can sit out on the patio. I have heaters, and the stars are pretty spectacular this time of year.”

Caleb nodded. “That’d be nice.” He couldn’t remember the last time he had a sit-down, one-on-one meal with a lovely—albeit frustrating as all get-out—lady.