Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

I t was dark when Kyle turned the SUV off Route 6, down Long Pond Road until the dead end and then made a right onto Cahoon Hollow Road. He drove past "The Beachcomber," infamous for its indie rock concerts and rowdy beach bar. It was the place where he'd had his first beer and lost his virginity, all in the same raucous night when he was seventeen years old, both events made even more exciting because he was underage. Back then he and his brothers would walk to "The ‘Comber" from the house, sneaking out after their parents fell asleep in front of the old console that housed a television set and a turntable. He loved those days and sometimes longed for them still; no responsibilities, no place to be, just pure fun fueled by ill-acquired alcohol.

Mia had fallen asleep about an hour before, somewhere along 495 South before the bridge, and he put his hand onto her leg to gently shake her awake. She sat upright and looked around, startled.

"Don't worry, Mia, you're okay. Sarah's asleep in her car seat. We're here." He pulled down a long, gravel-filled driveway and stopped at the garage outside the house. He turned to her. "Stay in the car where it's warm. I'll go inside and turn on the heat. It might take a minute for the house to warm up. No one's been here for a while."

She nodded and he stepped outside. It was much colder here than it had been in Boston. The wind off the ocean felt icy already and it was only the beginning of November. He could hear the surf pounding against the beach as he ran up to the front door and unlocked it, then turned off the house alarm and quickly went to the thermostat on the wall near the kitchen and turned the temperature up. He heard the boiler kick on and felt relieved. The old machine was finicky and was never a sure thing, but luck was on his side tonight. He went into the kitchen and switched on the pendant lights that hung over the counter, then turned around to go back outside for his passengers and their luggage, grabbing a heavy knit blanket off the couch as he passed by. Once at the car, he opened the rear door and threw the cover over the baby. "I've got her, Mia. Let's go inside."

He waited for Mia to step out and then he unclipped the car seat from the base, hurrying them into the house. He put the sleeping baby, still in her seat on the couch and Mia sat down next to her daughter.

"You weren't kidding. It's freezing in here," she said, not removing her sweatshirt.

"Hang on," he said. Kyle walked over to the fireplace and opened the flue. Then he went back through the kitchen to the mudroom where he knew he'd find some firewood stacked outside the back door. Once he had enough to get a good blaze going, he relocked that door and went back to where Mia sat. "This will help," he said as he quickly set the wood into the teepee shape his father had taught him as a boy, lit some kindling and watched it catch, small flames licking against the logs. "Sit tight," he told Mia. I'm going to grab our stuff. I'll be as fast as possible."

She nodded at him, and he watched as she tucked the blanket in around her daughter, leaving only the child's face visible. Then he went outside and began to ferry in their suitcases and the multiple bags of groceries. Finally finished, he locked the front door behind him and went to stand in front of the fire to warm himself up for a bit.

"I'm going to put the perishables in the refrigerator. The rest of the food can wait until tomorrow to be stored away. Then I'll show you the bedrooms and you can pick one to sleep in. There's a crib in one of the rooms already, so you don't need to sleep with Sarah while we're here. There's a lot of room for us to spread out."

"Kyle," she began, walking over to where was. "I know I keep saying ‘thank you' but I really mean it. You've done so much for me and for Sarah. I want you to know that we both appreciate everything. And again, I'm so sorry I crashed into your life like this. You have enough on your plate without my sad story."

He could have just let her words go, he could have done as he'd originally planned, put the food away and then shown her to a bedroom where she could have gone to sleep. But he didn't. He couldn't. It might have been the way the light from the fireplace made her skin appear to almost glow; it may have been the chill in the air of the unused house or the familiar, safe feel of his family home. "Your story isn't sad, Mia. It's just different. Besides, the ending isn't written yet." He looked at her, into the warmth reflected in her eyes from the now blazing fire and despite knowing her shouldn't do it, he reached for her. Then he tilted her head back and kissed her, slowly at first and then with a passion that surprised him. He wanted this woman. He wanted her naked, in his bed, calling out his name.

He ran his hands down her back underneath her sweatshirt, pressing her closer to him, knowing that she would feel exactly how much he wanted her, never breaking contact, continuing to explore her mouth with his tongue, feeling her match his movements with her own. He could have gone on like this forever; her in his arms, the heat of their bodies warming the room.

"What is it that you want, Mia?" he asked, searching her eyes for a clue before hearing her answer.

"I want this, Kyle. I want you," she said, her voice smoky with desire.

That was all he needed to hear. It no longer mattered if she had someone out there looking for her, or if she had a past that she couldn't remember. There had never been a time in his life when he felt this emotionally attracted to anyone. She was vulnerable and let him see that, making him fully invested in what happened to her next. Christ! he thought to himself. I didn't even feel this way about Meghan, and I almost married her. What a mistake that would have been ! Knowing how he felt about Mia, knowing that she might not be his for long heated his blood even further.

For the first time since the incident with his service revolver, he wanted to feel something other than self-loathing. He wanted to lose himself in this woman who was more of a mystery than any case he'd investigated while working as a detective. Unsolved murders were less complicated than Mia, he thought. Then he realized that unsolved murders always had unintended victims. He didn't want Mia to feel victimized. He used every ounce of his self-restraint and pulled himself back out of her embrace.

"Kyle?" she questioned. "What's wrong?"

"Mia. I want nothing more than you in my arms, but is this something we really want to do now? I think we should we wait until we know more and know who's looking for you."

He watched her reaction. It was as if he'd just poured an entire bucket of ice water over her. She shrank away from him.

"Right. That would be proper, now, would it not?" She sat back against the couch, a protective, invisible shield held together by the arms crossed over her chest, keeping him at bay.

If he had a quick thought that her use of language had changed to be stiff and formal, he chalked it up to his sudden rejection of her affection.

"We have nothing but time on our side, Mia. We're here with little else to do but try and figure out what happened on that night, why you drove off the road. I have faith that we'll get to the truth, and once that happens, if you still want me, I'll be here for you."

"Even if I'm supposed to be with someone else?"

"I don't think that you are. I don't know why, but you don't seem like the type of woman who would kiss another man if you were attached to someone. Call it gut instinct."

"And you always trust your instincts?" she asked, moving further away from him.

"It's how I moved from beat cop to detective. I haven't used it in a while, but I think I want to flex it again. I want to figure this out so that we can move forward together."

"And if we can't. Move forward together, I mean. What happens then?"

"I'm not going to think about that tonight, Mia. We both need some sleep. Let me show you where Sarah's room is and then you can pick one for yourself."

"Very well then," was all she said in response.

This time it didn't go unnoticed, that stiff and formal response. He felt as though her outer veneer was beginning to crack. And when it did, he'd get to the truth.

After a miserable night of tossing and turning, Kyle woke to the sound of an icy rain peppering the roof. He sat up in bed and looked out the floor to ceiling glass windows that framed one entire wall of the room. When his family had decided to expand the house, they had made it a point to want to bring the beauty of the outside in wherever possible. Each bedroom that faced the ocean on both levels of the house showcased the magnificent National Seashore. His grandfather had originally bought the large parcel of land before any restrictions were put in place by the government and so his family's home was one of the very few allowed here, so close to the beach. That original investment, small though it was, had grown beyond measure. While Kyle knew that his family would never sell the property, but rather pass it down through the generations to come, it was still remarkable to know that what they had was priceless.

The sky was slate grey, and the surf was rough, churning up both sand and seaweed with a powerful force. It must be miserable out there, Kyle thought. No surfers out to brave this weather. He smiled to himself. When they were young, he and his brothers loved a good rainstorm. A hurricane was even better. The more severe the wind, the higher the surf. Nothing could keep them out of the ocean.

He pushed the blankets back and climbed out of bed, pulling on his sweatpants, and heading into the ensuite bathroom. He brushed his teeth, splashed some cold water on his face, the day-old stubble rough against his fingers. Then he quietly made his way past Mia's room and down the stairs into the kitchen. The groceries were still out in the open, so he started putting them away in the walk-in pantry that flanked one side of the large space.

The kitchen had been carefully planned, with its extra-long cement countertop that had one of the two deep sinks that got constant use in the summertime. There were six stools tucked underneath and, on the wall, across from the pantry was a table that sat sixteen. Aside from Sibby's house outside of Boston, this was the place his family gathered most often. In his mind's eye, Kyle could hear the loud laughter and conversation that was the hallmark of any communal breakfast or dinner shared here. The stark contrast of it being just him, Mia, and the baby made the place feel almost empty. At least the boiler had finally kicked in and was churning out heat; he made a note to call the oil company to be sure that they continued to receive deliveries for as long as they were there.

On his last trip into the pantry from the kitchen, he heard Mia softly talking to Sarah. They must have just come downstairs. He wasn't sorry about what happened between them the previous night, but he hoped she didn't feel awkward about it, either. They were stuck up here together for now and they had to set some boundaries.

"Good morning, ladies," he said with a smile as he stepped back into the kitchen. "How did you both sleep?"

"Sarah did great," Mia replied.

From the tell-tale dark circles beneath her eyes, Kyle knew that the same didn't apply to Mia.

"That's good," he said. "I was just going to make some coffee. What would you like for breakfast?"

"Coffee would be good for now," she said, pulling a stool away from the counter and sitting on it. "It looks treacherous out there," she said, glancing out at the ocean.

"Yeah. I think it's a good day to be inside. I'm going to move the car into the garage. I'll probably be scraping ice off the windshield for a bit. It's nasty weather, but once the sun returns, we can go out onto the beach. I know you're going to love it."

"This house is beautiful. I can see why you're drawn to it."

He smiled and went to find the grinder for the coffee beans. In a few short moments he had everything ready and was just waiting for the brew to drip through the filter so that he could fill their mugs. He could tell she felt as uncomfortable as he did after last night's kiss and realized that it would be impossible to ignore it, no matter how much he wanted to do just that.

"About last night, Mia, listen…"

She let out a long breath. "No, Kyle, you don't need to say anything. Let's just acknowledge that we both felt the same and leave it at that, alright?"

"Of course," he replied, wishing it was different, wanting nothing other than to pull her into his arms and comfort her.

"I know what we're here to do," she said. "I need to sort out the mess that I am and appreciate any help you can offer. Is the internet working?"

"It should be," he said. "I set it up before we left Boston. Let me check." He lifted his burner phone out of the pocket of his sweatpants and scrolled through various screens. "It is. I'll fire up the desktop in the office. You're free to use anything you find in there. Oh, and the shelves are filled with books if you're looking for something to read. Lots of thrillers and romance novels. Sibby and my mom are obsessed with one author in particular. Her name is Lucy Score. Or I think that's her name. Last summer that's all they talked about.

"I'll take a look," she said warmly, giving him a wide smile.

Once the coffee was done brewing, he reached for two large mugs from the cabinet and filled them. He opened the refrigerator and pulled out the half and half for her, placed it on the counter and said, "Also, feel free to look around the kitchen. There's lots of equipment for any type of cooking and plates, silverware, and glasses behind those doors and drawers. He pointed toward the polished cherrywood cabinets against the opposite wall. "I'm sure you can find anything you need while I'm in the garage."

She lifted her mug and nodded. After a sip she said, "I'm good with this. I'll be here when you get back. I have no plans to do anything other than drink this coffee."

He smiled. "Well, maybe I can convince you to take a walk later."

"Maybe," she said. "Or perhaps we'll just stay indoors where hell isn't freezing over." She winked at him.

He felt that small eye movement deep in his belly. He turned to leave before he couldn't.