Between Us Girls (31 page)

And now, in the blink of an eye, he was waving and climbing back into the van and calling out, “Text us when you get home.”

So much for feeling awkward about embracing the guy who made her feel all weird inside.

Jasmyn sighed, disappointed and yet relieved.

It was time she got out of town.

Jasmyn easily found her way this time to the check-in lanes. She was flying straight to Chicago and changing planes there. It would be late by the time Quinn met her at the airport, but Quinn was a night owl. The forty-five-minute drive home would scarcely give them time to begin catching up.

The line was long. No surprise. Lines were always long no matter where she went in California. Jasmyn realized the crowds no longer made her edgy or protective of her space. Interacting with total strangers had become an enjoyable pastime.

She smiled. It wasn't quite the same as knowing everyone she ran into.

Behind a family of four, she parked her suitcase and opened her handbag to get out her e-ticket and driver's license. She spotted her cell phone, its screen lit up with messages.

She took it out, remembering that she had not turned up the ringer's volume. There were texts and missed calls and voice mails, all from Quinn. What on earth? Not bothering to read or listen, she called her friend.

“Jasmyn! Don't get on that plane! You're not on it, are you?”

“What's going on?”

“Are you on it?”

“No. I'm in line at the check-in—oh.” She spoke to a woman beside her who was pushing her bag against Jasmyn's. The line had moved forward two steps. “Excuse me. Sorry.”

Quinn exhaled loudly. “Well, get out of line, hon. We need to talk.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously!”

“Do you know how long this line—”

“Albright, move this instant!”

Quinn could be bossy. In all the years of their friendship, it had been
obvious that she was the leader of their pack of two. Jasmyn never minded. She did not care to be first in anything. And, if not for her friend, she might not have found the courage to try taco pizza, lip gloss, clogs, cross-country, or dinner with Nick Bloome. In all her bossiness, though, Quinn had only screamed at her once before, when the tornado touched down.

“Excuse me,” Jasmyn said to the impatient woman behind her and got out of line. “Okay, Quinn, I'm moving.”

“Sit down.”

“What?”

“Sit down.”

“There's no place—How bad is this?”

“It's not bad, it's not—Well, it's just something you need to know right now.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Is Danno okay?”

“He is fine. Everyone is fine. Find a place to sit already!”

“I'm finding.” Jasmyn eyed an occupied line of chairs and headed outdoors. She strode to a concrete bench under a palm tree. “Okay, I'm sitting.”

No sound came from the phone.

“Quinn, are you there?”

Jasmyn heard muffled noises, a hiccup, a soft crying sound.

“This afternoon…” Quinn's voice trembled and then it trailed off.

Jasmyn felt some unknown boogeyman eat up the minutes, precious minutes she needed to stand in line, check her bag, go through security, and get on the plane.

She realized that, once again, she was not going to get on the plane.

Fifty-Two

San Diego Bay across from the airport offered the best and the most immediate respite.

Keagan drove straight to it, parked, and found a bench along the sidewalk. Water lapped at the large rocks that shored up the bayfront. To his left was the downtown skyline. Across the water, a navy helicopter lifted off from North Island. A sailboat drifted by.

He breathed in the salt air and willed his mind to slow, his heart rate to ease up. It took several minutes until he could no longer feel the presence of Jasmyn.

She was nothing like Amy had been. Petite, yes. Fun loving, well, yes, that too. Dimples. Check. Sparkling eyes, yes. Though different colors. But Amy had taken down drug dealers. Jasmyn wouldn't be able to do that in a million years. Wouldn't want to.

When Amy died, when she had been killed…

Keagan blinked the bay into view again.

The point was, he did not want to go down any road that led to entanglements which would, in one way or another, come apart, and that would then rip him apart. It was a good thing for Jasmyn to go home.

He admitted now, without reservation, that she intrigued him. That she touched him deep inside where nothing had touched for years. He assumed the place had closed up shop when Amy left.

Evidently not.

No matter. Life moved on, his life nothing like his parents' lives, nothing like his grandparents'.

He imagined his grandmother, a woman as feisty as Liv, and smiled. She would tell him he missed out on too much because he was stubborn as a mule, and someday he would be sorry for cutting off his nose to spite his face. She liked her clichés.

Sorry, Gram, you got a freak for a grandson. Not your fault.

His phone rang. He considered not answering it.

But he always answered it. Owning a business and being committed to Liv dictated that he always answer it.

He pulled it from his back jeans pocket and saw Jasmyn's name.

“Jasmyn?”

“Hi. Um…”

“What's wrong?”

“It's…well, nothing. Not exactly. Except I'm not getting on the plane. Can you come get me?”

“Of course. Where?”

“Where you dropped me off?”

“Give me three minutes.”

“That's all?”

“Yeah. I'm close by.”

Her intake was audible. “Okay,” she whispered as she exhaled.

Dimples, fun loving, bright blue-violet eyes.

He could almost hear his grandmother laughing.

Jasmyn sat on her large purple roll-along near the curb, her carry-on and handbag on the sidewalk at her feet. She squinted in the late afternoon sun.

Keagan parked and got out of the van.

She twisted her mouth into a semblance of a smile. It was the only movement she made.

Keagan shoved his sunglasses on top of his head and knelt before her, eye level. “What happened?”

“Well.” She bit her lip, her brows knitted.

“Are you sick?”

“No. I'm sorry. It's just—We should go.”

“Where to?”

Her eyes went wide and she put her hand to her mouth. “Oh, no. Can't I go back to Liv's?”

“I'm sure you can. Is that what you want?”

She nodded and nodded, and then she nodded some more. Her eyes filled.

Tears were a no-brainer. He helped her stand and wrapped his arms around her. She fit neatly, as he knew she would.

She cried against him.

A traffic cop gazed at them, a half dozen cars down the curb. Keagan held up a finger.
Give us a minute.

Or two or three…

“Jasmyn, what's wrong?”

She looked up at him, nestled in his arms. “Nothing. Not really.” She wiped a hand across her face. “I don't know why I'm crying. It's kind of happy stuff. Crazy and weird but— Oh, Keagan. Quinn just told me I have a sister! A half sister, obviously. And she lives in San Diego! And I can meet her on Friday! Do you believe it? My whole entire life, I had no idea.”

It was Keagan's turn to be dumbfounded. From what he knew, Jasmyn did not have family, no relatives whatsoever.

“See what I mean?” she said. “Where am I supposed to put that information?”

“Is it true?”

“It seems like it could be.” Her bottom lip quivered and her face crumpled.

He pulled her close again. “I guess you just cry till you get used to it.”

Fifty-Three

Keagan asked Jasmyn if she wanted to adjust to the bombshell of information before going to the Casa.

The Casa. Liv and everyone. What would they think? How could she explain things? Her cottage was clean and tidy, maybe even cleared of the borrowed furniture by now. How could she ask them to start over for her? “Should I go to a motel?”

He lifted her suitcase into the back of the van, shut its door, and turned to her. His chin lowered slightly. He waited, as if the answer were obvious.

She understood. “Mama Liv would have a cow.”

“Or at least another heart attack. How about a cup of tea?”

She expected a coffee shop, but he drove them to an out-of-the-way, hole-in-the-wall restaurant not far from the airport. He suggested she bring a sweater as the air was turning cool. She dug the Seaside Village Gym jacket out of her carry-on.

They sat outdoors, the only customers on a tiny white deck, beneath heaters attached to the awning above. Bay water lapped the other side of a low wall with windbreak windows. Their table was one of only a handful. Boats moored to a nearby dock clinked softly. The waiter lit the fat candle inside a clear chimney on their table.

Keagan ordered tea and clam chowder and sourdough rolls for both of them. He winked at her. “No worries. They have to-go cartons.”

“Thanks.”

He nodded. “What can I do for you?”

“I don't know.” She spread her arms. “This.”

He smiled and every angle on his face softened.

Jasmyn closed her eyes briefly, blocking the sight Keagan always kept under wraps.

Why had she called him and not Sam or Piper? True, they were at work, but—but Inez's words echoed louder than any coherent thought.
When w
e
women need rescue, he always there for us. He is our knight.
And she had been—she most definitely had been—in need of a rescue.

Her girlfriends, like Quinn on the phone, would have gone on and on,
Oh my gosh
and
What if this…What if that
and
What are you going to do?
They would not have swooped down in under five minutes and hugged her until she quieted inside and whisked her off to just what she needed, a gentle, peaceful place.

But all of that added up to overload. Not only was there the instant-family bombshell to absorb, there was the hug. The Hug. She added the capital
H.

“I don't have family either,” he said. “I was an only child. When I was twelve, my parents and I were in a car accident. They were killed. My mother's parents raised me after that. They've been gone a long time. There was an uncle at some point. I think he died in upstate New York. I can't imagine learning, out of the blue, that I have a half sibling who lives down the street.”

Add empathy to the Hug.

“I know. It's like one of those goofy stories you read about online.”

“And don't believe.”