Hemingway - Zoe Dawson Page 0,32

good at a great many things,” she said.

They ate breakfast, hung around her place and later in the day went for a short run on the beach. Afterward, they sank into the sand.

“Can you stay again tonight?” she asked.

He nodded. “Yes, I can, but I’ll have to leave early in the morning.”

“Okay, how about a movie then?”

He nodded and said casually, “Did I hear voices this morning or was that my imagination?”

“No, not your imagination. My brother Jason called from Argentina. He and his unit are down there for that terrible earthquake.”

“Ah, humanitarian service. Marines?”

“Yeah, that’s right. How did you know?”

“Those guys are always busy with that kind of thing. It’s impressive.”

She nodded. “He’s always been a good kid. Helpful, honorable, and tough. I guess that all adds up to the Marine standards.”

“How long has he been in?”

“Two years. So far he loves every minute of it.”

“Even combat?”

“Ha, yeah. He says that when the bullets start flying, that’s when you do the job you were given.”

Hemingway knew what it was like to be under fire, and he also knew, now, what it was like to take a man’s life. He had to agree with Jason. After saving his sister from a drug lord, he had experienced something profound. His desire to become a SEAL had only intensified.

“Any other siblings?” he asked.

Her expression froze, and she went so still, it was as if she wasn’t even breathing. There was a long, electric silence, her agitation almost palpable. Then she abruptly rose and walked the short distance to the ocean, standing just shy of the wash onto the beach. He went to where she was and touched her shoulder. With her face carefully arranged into a non-expression, she spoke, her tone hushed.

“One,” she murmured. “My sister Madison. She died.”

He expected more, but she just stared out at the ocean.

“Obviously, I can’t know how you feel. I have a sister. She raised me and my brothers when my mother left us. I was still a baby, and she gave up everything to take care of us. Recently, she was kidnapped by a drug lord in Brazil when she went on an assignment for NCIS. I broke all the rules to rescue her, but if I had lost her…” He closed his eyes. “I know what it’s like to come close.”

She tipped her head back, closing her eyes, and Hemingway saw how she struggled with her emotions. She was locked up, even her tears, and he wondered, absently, if she had let herself cry. Her despair cut him to the quick. And something gave way inside him.

He pulled her into a tight embrace. As if under enormous pressure, his heart felt suddenly too big for his chest. Closing his eyes, he swallowed hard and tightened his hold. This girl surprised him. She was always so in control, so tough, but instead of pulling away and handling her pain her way, she knocked him for a loop. She wrapped her arms around his waist, rested her head on his shoulder and stayed right where she was. She released a long sigh, as if expelling the last of the tears she couldn’t seem to shed.

“It feels good to have someone to hold onto for just a little while.”

Her honesty made his heart roll over and his chest clog up. Feeling as if he might turn inside out at any minute. Just the thought of losing Paige opened up a dark and painful hole inside him. He couldn’t imagine what Shea had gone through.

With her warm and soft against him, Hemingway locked his jaw and made himself take a deep, slow breath, the heat from her body thickening his blood. They stood there for a few minutes, the sound of the ocean’s soothing waves washing over them. “Okay on the movie,” he said, giving her a small smile. “But I get to pick.”

The Shea he knew rose to the occasion, telling him this girl had courage. She managed a soft chuckle. “Aw,” she said, “No chick flick then.”

“Uh-uh, and you’re buying the popcorn.”

7

Overcast, the stars obscured and sunrise still two hours away, Hemingway shivered in the pre-dawn chill. At zero five hundred, it was fifty-nine degrees and the waves of the Pacific beckoned.

Warmth from now on would be a fleeting memory and all of them knew it.

“Class is mustered,” Ensign Lane said. “One hundred and forty-five men present. The two men who went to medical DOR’d, Instructor.”

Hemingway thought it best not to look for or make eye