Authors: Jill Shalvis
Obviously, he’d not been the only one getting lucky. And if that was the case, then Griffin was good to go. Brody’s job was done.
He could leave now, and not ever look back.
Except for the tug on his heart, and the woman beside him who’d caused it.
W
hat are you going to do when you get back to San Diego?”
The question from Lyndie startled Griffin. They’d been flying northwest for forty-five minutes, mostly in comfortable silence. She’d look at him every once in a while, searching his expression for a moment, looking for what, exactly, he had no clue, but then she’d smile—a balm on wounds he hadn’t even realized he’d had. “I don’t know what I’ll do when I get back,” he said.
“You going home?”
To South Carolina, she meant, and his parents. To the friends Brody insisted he still had. He glanced back at Brody, crashed out on the seat behind him and dead to the world. Griffin still couldn’t quite believe that his lazy-bones, laid-back brother had gotten him to a fire. The Brody he knew didn’t like to tax himself.
And yet he’d worked his ass off in Mexico this weekend, as hard as any of them. He’d changed a lot in this past year, apparently.
And so had Griffin. “I’m not sure,” he admitted.
Lyndie nodded, as if that was a perfectly acceptable answer, when, in fact, it wasn’t. If she had family alive, he doubted she’d stay away from them simply because of what they’d make her feel.
“I’d like to see them,” he said out loud for the first time, and let out a long breath. He really would like to see them.
“I bet they’d like to see you, too.”
“But as for permanent roots…” He shrugged. “I’m fond of San Diego.”
“It’s a great place, and, funny thing, they have a fire department.”
He turned his head toward her, and she smiled. “You’re just too good at what you do to walk away, Griffin.”
“Actually…I’m done walking away. In every aspect of my life.”
Startled, she stared at him for a beat before looking forward again.
Yeah, that means you,
he thought, just a little grimly. What the hell. If he was back to doing the whole feeling thing, he might as well face everything head-on at once. Including this woman, and how he felt about her, which was far, far more complicated than he’d ever intended. “And once we’re back, Lyndie—”
“No.” She swallowed hard. “No promises, okay?”
“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”
“And I’m going to keep it that way.”
Brody yawned loudly and widely as he sat up. “Nice catnap. What did I miss?”
“The pizza and beer,” Lyndie said.
“Ah,
man.
”
When Lyndie laughed, Brody rolled his eyes. “Oh, sure, make fun of the sleepy man, but in my dreams it’s possible to get beer and pizza up here.” He looked at his brother. “You take advantage of my nap?”
“What?”
“Maybe you guys joined the mile high club or something.”
Griffin let out a disbelieving laugh. “Just when I think you’ve grown up—”
Brody grinned. “Yeah, I know. So…did you?”
Griffin threw a magazine at him. “Go back to sleep.”
He didn’t, but mercifully, he stayed quiet, watching the scenery go by, which left Griffin with several hours of being almost alone with Lyndie. Quiet and reflective as well, they didn’t say much.
They didn’t have to. Time was nearly up, and they both knew it.
Several hours later, Griffin watched the airport runway in San Diego rise up to meet them as they came in for their landing. Griffin glanced at the still and strangely subdued Brody. “What’s up?” Griffin asked him as they taxied toward their terminal.
Brody just lifted a shoulder. Code for I-don’t-want-to-talk-about-it. “Well, isn’t that something,” Griffin muttered.
“Isn’t what something?”
“You don’t want to talk about what’s bothering you and I’m supposed to just leave it be.”
“That’s right.”
“You never let
me
be,” Griffin said. “You dragged my sorry ass out of the country.”
“You needed it.”
“And what is it you need?” Griffin asked.
“Nothing.” Pure misery crossed Brody’s face. “Maybe a place that serves good drinks and has some good scenery, and I’m not talking a view of the beach.” Grabbing his bag, he got off the plane.
Griffin shook his head and pulled out his two bags from the backseats, and also Lyndie’s. When he looked up, she was standing there facing him. “Thanks,” she said, and reached for hers. “Through customs we go.”
And yet neither of them moved. Griffin had the urge to haul her close, but he realized he wasn’t looking into the face of the woman whom he’d made love to last night and also this morning. That soft, warm, loving, laughing woman had already left him.
“Thanks for your help with the fire,” she said politely.
“Thanks for my help.” He repeated her words, even nodded agreeably, feeling anything but agreeable.
“Thanks for my help?”
“Sam appreciates what you’ve done, and I—”
“I didn’t do it for Sam. Jesus, Lyndie, are we really going to do this? Just ignore everything—”
“I’ve got to check in.”
And unbelievably, she pushed past him and left the plane. He stood there for a long moment, certain they weren’t really going to leave it this way, but she didn’t come back.
Finally Brody did. He poked his head back in the door. “You coming or what?”
“Yeah. Guess I am.” He shouldered his bags, took one last look around, shook his head, and left the plane, too.
Lyndie was just outside, looking over a clipboard. Griffin slowed. “I’ll meet you inside,” he said to Brody, and stepped toward her.
Distracted, she looked up. “What?”
He could only stare at her. “You can honestly say you expect me to just walk away?”
“Yes.”
Oddly deflated, he looked around them at the organized chaos of the airport while Lyndie studied her clipboard. Shaking his head, he started to do as she wanted and walk away, but got only a few feet before he whipped back around. “Damn it, I don’t know what to do with you. About you.”
“Don’t do anything.”
“Just ignore the feelings, the emotions?”
Her eyes were a little wide, and more uncertain than he’d ever seen her. “Maybe…maybe I don’t have any.”
“Is that what you tell yourself?” he asked. “Is that how you do it, live so isolated and on your own? You ignore everything, including what’s going on right here, right now?”
Swallowing hard, she lifted her chin and met his gaze. “Well, truthfully, I’ve never had feelings or emotions such as what’s going on right here, right now.”
He felt his jaw drop at that, and without another word, she whirled on her heel and walked toward a lineman waiting for her attention.
Shocked, he stood there as she walked away.
* * *
Lyndie walked blindly toward the lineman, a little afraid she’d just walked away from the best thing ever to have happened to her.
“Need fuel?” the lineman asked.
She blinked rapidly to see around the tears making her vision shimmer. “Uh…”
“Because I can fill ’er up for ya.”
“Yeah. Sure.”
“Need a wash?”
Snapping at the kid would be like kicking a puppy, so she took a deep breath. “What the hell.”
“Need a—”
“Just…give me the works, all right? Charge it to Sam’s account,” she said with grim satisfaction.
She hadn’t expected Griffin to need or want a goodbye. Foolish of her, she could see that now. He wasn’t the type of man to just walk away from anything, much less someone he cared about.
And she knew he cared about her—it’d been in every kiss, every touch, every single look they’d ever exchanged, even the last one he’d just given her.
A tear hit her cheek. Damn it, that was the
last
one, the very last tear she’d shed. It wasn’t as if they’d made any promises to each other. They’d both gone into this with their eyes wide open. They’d sparked immediately, yes, but considering the danger element they’d faced, the adrenaline, the urgency of their situation, not to mention the forced intimacy, they’d been bound to act on those sparks.
But it was over now. Back to reality.
Head down, she hopped back up into her plane. She’d just sit here for a few moments, staring blindly at the controls if she had to, until she had herself under control. She’d sit there and…pet Lucifer, who was on her seat looking deceptively sweet and innocent as he washed his face.
But that wasn’t what caught her attention. No, it was the woman sitting next to the kitten. Nina Farrell wore the pair of jeans she’d pilfered from Lyndie, along with a bright red halter top. Her long, thick hair fell around her shoulders as she smiled broadly.
“You…stowed away on me,” Lyndie said, surprised, even though she shouldn’t have been.
“Sure did.” Nina’s grin broadened. “You were so preoccupied back in San Puebla, so concerned about saying good-bye to your firefighter that you never—”
“I was not preoccupied. I never fly preoccupied.”
“No? So you knew I’d hidden beneath the bags, then?”
“This is against immigration and customs—”
“I have my papers.” Her eyes flashed. “I’ll pass through no problem, I belong here, too.”
“The point is you could have gotten me in trouble, Nina. I need to know what I have on this plane. It’s my business to know everything, including potential problems.”
Nina’s eyes were dark, and spitting with temper. “Is that all I am to you, a potential problem?” She came to her feet and lifted her chin. “Fine, then. Do not you worry about a thing, I am taking my potential problematic self right on out of your way.”
“Nina—”
“I belong here. You as a pilot should have no issue with me coming along—”
“As a pilot—and I speak for the entire industry here—we sort of frown on stowaways.”
Nina shook her head. “Why are you really so angry? This is my life, not yours.”
“I’m angry because you asked me if I’d bring you, and I said no. Call me stubborn, but I hate it when people ask for my permission and then disregard it.”
“But why did you say no?” Nina stared into her eyes, which Lyndie knew were still wet. “Too many attachments on your heart?”
“What? Don’t be ridiculous.” And yet her heart kicked up a notch at the accusation.
“And I suppose it’s also ridiculous that you’re standing here fighting tears. Is it the ‘damn’ kitten, Lyndie? Or that damn man you just kicked right out of your life because heaven forbid you let anyone in, really in, that rigid heart of yours.”
“Okay, now you’re just pissing me off.”
“Of course I am. That’s because I am in your face telling you what is wrong with you. I’m surprised you’re not trying to kill me.”
“I’m too tired, that’s all.”
“I know.” Nina’s temper faded, and she stroked Lyndie’s cheek. “You’ve worked your ass off. You probably have no idea how much I admire you, how much I am awed by all you do for everyone else.”
“Nina—”
“I want to teach,” she said softly. “I want to teach kids in this country, kids who might not get a chance to fully understand their culture otherwise. I want to help, too, Lyndie. Don’t be mad at me anymore.”
Defeated, Lyndie sat down in her pilot’s seat. “I’m not. Go through customs, damn it. Meet me out there.”
“Thank you.” Nina came forward and gave her a hard hug. “You won’t regret this particular attachment, I promise.”
But she already did. She regretted all the “attachments” she’d collected, every last one, because with each of them came the distinct possibility of getting hurt. It scared her.
She really hated that.
B
ack in San Diego, Griffin did as he had for the past year. He sat on the beach. He walked the hills. Slept.
But after two days he’d had enough, even if he couldn’t put his finger on what exactly he’d had enough of. At least not until Brody eyed him over a bowl of cereal he’d mooched for the third morning in a row. “You don’t get it, do you?” His brother pointed at him with a spoon dripping milk. “You were never a loner.”
“So?”
“So you’re done with moping, you’re done with brooding. I don’t know if you’ll ever be done grieving entirely but—”
“How can I be?”
Brody sighed. “You’ll never forget, I know that, but seriously, man, it’s time to
forgive.
”
“Who?”
“Who do you think?
Yourself.
”
Griffin closed his eyes. He had no trouble dredging up the memory of the tragedy. Hell, he dreamed it nearly every single night for a year.
But not the past two weeks. Nope, those nights had been filled with newer memories: Mexico, and a village of the bravest people he’d ever met. And a woman unlike anyone he’d known before; a woman he couldn’t seem to stop thinking about, even if she wanted him to. Just this morning he’d woken, reaching for her because his dreams had been so real.
“It’s time to give yourself permission to go on,” Brody said. “Because what happened wasn’t your fault and you know it.”
“Yeah. Logically I know that. I do.”
Brody set his spoon down and refilled his bowl to the brim. “Good. Because now that I found you, you’re done having breakfast by yourself. Besides, you buy good cereal.”
“Maybe what
I’m
done with is you mooching out of my fridge and sleeping on my couch—”
“Which is damned uncomfortable, by the way. You think you could get a futon? I’d sure sleep better—”
“Go home, Brody.”
“Funny, that’s what I was going to tell you.”
“What?”
“Go home, Griffin. You can’t just lounge the rest of your life away because you suffered some losses. It’s time to move on.
Go home.
”
He stared at his brother. “But I don’t know where home is.”
“Sure you do. It’s wherever makes you happy.”
But that was the problem. He really didn’t know where that was anymore—and, even worse, he had the feeling it wasn’t a “where” at all, but “who.”
Given that he’d walked away from anyone who’d ever cared about him—or had let
her
walk away from
him
—he felt pretty damn homeless at the moment.
God, he was tired of missing people. His friends. Greg. His parents.
Lyndie.
Shockingly enough, he missed her so much it was a physical ache, and not just of the lust variety. His chest hurt, his mind hurt. How had he done it for an entire year—remained alone and silent? And why did he suddenly need…more?
Maybe because for a couple of weeks now, he’d had it. He’d had a purpose, a job—and been surrounded by people he cared about, and who cared about him in return.
Once again he’d been needed—wanted—and he’d thrived on that despite the guilt that came with it.
“Figure it out yet, Grif?”
He stood up. “I’m going for a run.”
Brody shook his head. “So you’re still the ambitious one. Well, go for it. See if you can outrun feeling guilty for starting to live again.”
“Brody—”
“Hey, no excuses, not for me. Just go.”
Griffin tried to do just that. He certainly ran hard enough to exhaust himself, but everything else—his memories, his hopes and dreams—unfortunately, as they had all year, they stuck with him.
When he got back to the small house he’d called his own for a year now, he stood on the deck, still huffing and puffing and sweating. Brody’s backpack sat alone on the table, but his brother wasn’t in sight.
No one was, and as he stretched his sore muscles, he cursed the very aloneness he’d sought out for so long.
He wondered what Lyndie was doing right now. Flying? Yeah, no doubt. South America this time? Hell, she could be anywhere, with anyone.
For so long he’d not allowed thoughts of anyone else to creep into his existence but now that he’d gone out and been so alive for a few weeks, it’d become impossible to remain in a cocoon.
He’d never forget what he’d lost, never. But the harsh truth remained—they were dead.
And he was not.
Lyndie couldn’t be a replacement, but, God knew, he hadn’t been looking for one—hadn’t been looking for anything, and yet he’d found…something incredibly good, and incredibly special.
From inside Brody’s pack on the table, a cell phone rang, the one he’d given back to his brother the night they’d returned. Knowing that it was likely his parents calling, Griffin turned away. He still couldn’t talk to them, he didn’t know what to say, or how to say it—
The phone rang a second time. He could see his mother tapping her foot the way she did when waiting. For such a warm, loving woman, she had little to no patience, and certainly none for a cell phone.
That’s how Griffin knew they really had no idea where he’d gone, or they’d have been here, right here, demanding, bullying, coaxing him along.
The third ring shrilled into the day. His mom would be chewing on her lower lip now, her eyes filled with worry.
Shit.
One quick peek at the display had his heart kicking into gear. He’d been right, it was one Mrs. Phyllis Moore, mother extraordinaire.
He stared down at his thumb resting on the answer button, wondering why all of his reasons for avoiding her for so long seemed so stupid now.
The fourth ring started, but his thumb cut it off. With a deep breath, he spoke. “Hello.”
A brief, shocked silence. Then his mother’s shaky voice, “Griffin? Oh, my God, Griffin, is that you?”
A huge weight seemed to lift off his chest. “Yeah.” His voice was gruff as she burst into tears. “It’s me, Mom.”
* * *
Brody hung out. He did that well. In fact, he’d made quite the hobby out of making sure life came as easy as it could, but nothing seemed to come easy these past two days.
He felt bored with his own company and, even worse, disgusted with himself and his lack of direction. Sitting on Ocean Beach, he stared out at the waves, the tide hitting his toes. The foggy morning had tendrils of long, low clouds skimming over the water and a chill in the air. The ocean pounded the sand in tune to a headache brewing in his head.
A headache. That was what he’d come to, he was actually stressing enough to get a headache.
An older couple walked past him hand in hand, their golden retriever running eagerly ahead of them, a stick in its mouth. They’d probably been together forever, the way his parents had, helping each other along the way, working hard for what they had, nurturing it, loving it.
Brody had never nurtured a soul, except his own.
The sun peeked its way out from behind a cloud, lighting up the ocean, the sand, everything around him. God, it was so beautiful here. Griffin had really found a place worthy of home status to hang out at all year, presumably doing so on his savings.
Brody couldn’t have done that. In lieu of his own hard-earned savings, he’d mooched off his wealthy family’s trust fund instead, when he was perfectly capable of making his own way.
For the first time in his life, he felt ashamed of himself, sitting on his degree, letting it go to waste when there were others, like Nina, who would do anything to be in his position.
He had dreamed about it last night, dreamed about Nina and her hopes and dreams, and woke up on a couch, in Griffin’s house, where he could have a private shower, all the hot water he could have, all the hot water he could ever want, where he could drink the water right from the tap if he chose.
And still, he wished he was in Mexico, with Nina.
In his dream he’d stood in a rushing stream, somewhere alone in Copper Canyon, surrounded by ancient rock formations and enough wild, open wilderness that he could go forever without seeing another soul if he chose.
But he didn’t choose. Even in his dreams he turned to a woman, one woman, with dark, melting brown eyes and a smile that could light his heart.
Nina.
The next morning, he crawled out of bed and picked up the phone. He dialed Hope International, and woke up Sam Logan, a man so dedicated he didn’t seem to realize he shouldn’t sleep with his business phone right by his head. “Sam, I need the number of Tom Farrell in San Puebla.”
“Why, did you forget something?” Sam’s voice sounded a little hoarse, and through the receiver, Brody heard the soft murmur of a woman.
He winced, hoping he hadn’t caught the guy in the act. “Yeah, I did.”
“Why don’t I have one of my pilots grab it for you next time they’re there?”
“Because to be honest, it’s not a thing I forgot at all, but a person. A woman, actually.”
“Tom’s daughter,” Sam said. “Nina.”
“How did you—”
“Look, I am not getting involved in this one, not with a ten-foot pole. But here’s the number.”
Brody scribbled it down, wondering what the hell Sam meant, and then dialed the number for Rio Vista Inn as fast as he could.
Tom answered. “Nina?”
“No, but I’m looking to talk to her. It’s Brody Moore. Griffin’s brother—”
“I know who the hell you are,” Tom growled.
“Where’s Nina?”
There was a long silence. “I take it by the question that she’s not with you. I can’t decide if that’s a good or bad thing.”
Brody’s heart took off. “Why would she be with me? Are you telling me she’s—”
“Gone,” Tom said flatly.” And has been ever since Lyndie’s plane left.”
Brody sank onto a chair as his thoughts raced. She’d told him she wanted to go to the States, and he hadn’t taken her seriously enough. “Has she called?”
“She left me a note telling me not to worry. A goddamn note.”
Guilt swamped Brody. If he’d only—
“You paying attention, boy?”
He hadn’t been, a lifelong problem. “I am now.”
“Good, because I just decided I’m going to count on you to help me find her. You filled her head with thoughts of all she could do there, and now you’re going to fix this.”
No, he hadn’t filled her head with hopes and dreams, she’d already had those all on her own. He’d simply enjoyed her, assuming she’d never really act on those dreams, because how many people really did that?
He should have known Nina was different from most; that she’d said what she’d meant, and now she’d found a way to make them happen.
He closed his eyes, tormented by that. He hadn’t taken her seriously enough, and as a result, she’d turned to someone else for help. Lyndie?
Maybe, maybe not. Pride ran through Nina like blood. She might think she could do this on her own, which meant she was out there, looking for a place to stay, a way to make a living, all on her own.
Anything could happen to her, anything. “I’ll fix this,” he promised rashly.
“See that you do.”