then shower and get dressed. The tears almost come again the instant I walk into the kitchen and see the box of fresh baked malasadas sitting there.
As much as I love their sugary sweetness, I can’t eat now. I’m just not hungry.
The house is silent, empty, but I hear faint laughter outside. It must be afternoon.
I walk down the hall and out to the breezy lanai. Judging by the noise, Flint and his son are just past the concrete wall surrounding the tiled porch.
Following their voices, I head for the steps leading down to the sandy beach, which is where they must be. Actually, they’re in the water.
At first, it’s hard to believe what I’m seeing.
Bryce stands on a wide paddleboard. Flint circles several feet away, encouraging him to keep the board flat as it dips and bobs in the gentle waves.
Then there’s Savanny. He’s propped up on the board with Bryce, shaking a few stray drops of water off his whiskers, looking around excitedly.
Apparently, my cat’s not just part serval, but part otter too, a water baby to the core.
Good thing, too. It might’ve saved him from drowning after we jumped off the exploding skiff. If Cash hadn’t found us in time and brought us here, we’d both be dead and forgotten.
Flint hollers to Bryce again, encouraging him. I’m not sure this man ever berates or blames.
He’s so easy to relate to.
I wait until he sees me before I cross the lanai and walk down the steps. Flint leaves the water and steps onto the sand, coming toward me. We meet in the center of the beach.
I should be downright toasty. The sand under my feet, the air billowing through my hair, the sun shining down, they’re all delightfully warm. But I’m just chilled to the core and sad.
“Feeling better?” he asks, looking at me hesitantly.
He probably thinks I’m about to faint, or stop breathing, or just...
I don’t know, need him?
That’s hard to wrap my head around, too. He’s been here for everything I’ve needed so far, without complaint.
Lifting my chin, I try to find some stamina. “Yeah, the nap helped.”
“Hungry yet?”
Shaking my head, I bite my lips together to keep from smiling. “Is that your default answer to everything?”
“No. I get that shit from my ma, she’s always trying to feed people, rain or shine. There’s malasadas inside if you want a snack.”
I nod, even though I don’t know his mother, or my own. Another chill cuts through me.
Is my own mother even alive? Or is she dead, too?
No, she’s alive. I think.
I don’t get the same sense of black hole emptiness and loss when I think of her versus my father.
When I don’t move, Flint takes my hand and nods at the ocean. “Come on, say hello to Bryce. He’s already in love with your cheetah.”
That gets a small smile. What can it hurt?
I walk beside him, letting him guide me, digging my toes deeper into the beach with every step. The sandy warmth feels so good, even if it’s not enough to thaw the ice-cold unease in my bones.
The beach feels normal, comforting like so few things are.
“I’m glad he’s made friends with Savanny,” I say, trying to shift the focus off myself and my inner workings that totally aren’t working.
“They’ve been inseparable since he got home,” Flint says. “The situation was never right up till recently to have our own pet. Kid’s been hounding me over it for years. I just started telling him maybe we’d think about it recently. After he’s had a few days with your boy, I’ll never hear the end of it.”
I glance at him as he grins my way. That warmth isn’t just in the ground anymore.
A heatwave rushes through me like pure sunshine. I swear, the grin on Flint’s face could turn January into mid-July, and it’s not just because he’s so good to his son.
I’m safe with him. That’s what I keep coming back to. Like it’s something I’ve been missing, an easy afternoon walk on the beach with this big slice of muscle who could moonlight as an underwear model. I know I’ve been starving for safety for a long time.
“Bryce, come say hello to Valerie!” Flint shouts.
“Coming, Dad!” Bryce expertly floats the board all the way to shore, where Savanny springs off without getting wet. The cat runs up and curls himself around my ankles, purring as he headbutts my leg. I give the cat’s back a long stroke with one hand.
“Bryce, this is Valerie,” Flint