reminder of us the way you did, baby. And I swear, I’m not saying that to hurt you, us. To be honest with you—” I settle onto my back and pull her up to rest her head against my shoulder. “—I came across an old picture of you, Jed, and Maris before the funeral. Amid all the grief I was feeling about Jed, I still wondered about your life,” I muse.
“Whatever,” she scoffs in disbelief.
“Not kidding. He had you both wrapped around your necks. Your hair was so long then. Both you and Maris were trying to punch him in the stomach to let him go. And he was wearing these obnoxious board shorts that—”
“Had pelicans all over them?”
My head dips down to find her hand over her mouth. “How did you know?”
“Because that picture is on a table in my family room, Jennings. It was one of my brother’s favorites.” Her lips press together as a lone tear falls down her cheek.
I run my hand over her shortened hair. “When did you cut your hair, Owl?”
The tears come faster. “Kevin was ten. Dean convinced me to go out with one of his friends. Why does this matter?”
“What made you do it?” I force myself to ask, though something inside me already knows the answer.
“I couldn’t be the woman who looked the same in my memories if I was going to try to move past them,” she whispers.
“Smart.” I press a kiss on her lips. “Brave.” Another one, this one lingering more. “And courageous. You built a life for our son he obviously cherishes. How many people have been in your same situation who have given up?”
“Plenty I’m sure, but I had help,” she argues.
“Your heart is reflected in your eyes, Kara. Pure gold. You had options, and you chose the one that would always make you remember.”
She traces my chest over my heart before confessing, “He was a part of both of us. To me, there was no other choice, and I’ve never regretted it once.”
“And you say you’re not courageous?” Rolling her over to her back, I frame her face in my hands. “When I saw you at the funeral home, my first thought was if I was going to look at anyone’s picture and bring them back to life, it should be Jed, not an ex-girlfriend,” I confess. “I missed him too much.”
Kara doesn’t take offense. Smoothing her hands over my shoulder, she nods. “I understand. I made a lot of similar declarations when I heard about their deaths.”
“I was wrong.”
Her wide eyes blink up at me. “Excuse me?”
“I loved him like a brother, I will always be grateful to him, but I was wrong. There’s nothing I would trade that makes up for the time I’ve had with you and Kevin.”
“I just wish they didn’t have to die to bring us here.” Her voice is tragic.
“Why has no one ever mentioned how they died,” I wonder aloud.
Kara shifts in my arms. “It’s not a secret, Jennings. It’s just—difficult—to talk about.”
“Will you tell me?” I ask quietly.
She shakes her head. “I don’t want it in your head.”
“But it should be in yours alone? Isn’t pain shared pain halved?”
Shoving herself away from me, she yells, “What the hell are you now, a shrink on top of being a hotshot pilot, Ace?”
“No, but I—”
“Dated one? I’m sure of it,” she lashes out.
I clench my jaw but don’t say anything.
“None of you, not a single one of you, understand what it was like to get the knock on the door. The sheriff’s office. At first, I thought it was Kevin.” I suck in a harsh breath. “Yeah, that’s what it means to be a parent, constant worry that someone is going to harm your child,” she says desperately.
“Our child,” I correct her.
“Whatever.” She flicks her hand at me. My eyes narrow, but Kara doesn’t retract her statement. She goes on. “They asked me if I was Kara Malone. When I confirmed I was, they flashed their badges. There were three of them.”
“What did they say, Kara?”
“I don’t think they knew what to say. I kept begging them to tell me it wasn’t Kevin. ‘Please tell me it’s not my son,’ but I never called him by name, so they didn’t confirm it. Finally, I grabbed my cell. One of them reached out and grabbed my wrist. ‘No, Ms. Malone. It’s better you hear it from us.’”
I stiffen. “They touched you?”
“That’s the last thing to worry about, Jennings. They were trying