Kelly’s eyes got big, and she gave me a funny look.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “Too much, right? It was supposed to just be dinner. No ring, no reel.”

She laughed and made crazy eyes. “Don’t worry. I have all my stuff in the car, ready to move in. I know the dog likes me, at least.”

It was easy talking to her, and a minute later, we were just laughing, the dog between us, and the hummingbirds darting across the lawn and hiding in the hibiscus.

“I don’t know that I’m ready for anything, P.T.,” she said. “I wasn’t even sure I wanted to stay—”

“I shouldn’t have brought it up,” I said. “Forget that I said it.”

“No,” she said. “Let’s get out of town together. We could probably both use a break.”

I nodded, hesitant.

“I just can’t promise I’m ready for anything,” she said. “Physically. You should know that first.”

“We’ll just fish and relax,” I said. “You can fall asleep mid-conversation, and I’ll get the message.”

We laughed some more, and then I called up Harry Glavis, up by Schaeffer Lake. He told me all his boats were out except the houseboat.

I mouthed to Kelly—“houseboat”—and she shrugged, mouthing back “sure.” He also gave me the number it went for, for a three-day and two-night rental. Then I made him give me the law enforcement discount.

An hour later, we swung by her place to get some clothes and dropped Purvis over at Marvin’s.

The morning sky was a silver-blue, and we got on 908, heading northeast. Kelly wore a floppy hat on her head, and she rolled down the window in my truck. The breeze blew at the curly strands of her hair, and I thought about drives up this way that I’d taken for cases. How every highway was a trip to see some suspect or witness. How work had slowly become my entire identity. My connection to every part of this region.

Did I want that to be my future—or could I change?

We arrived to see the houseboat on the dock, its green and white colors playing off the wood trim of the cabin and cockpit.

We pushed off, and Kelly loaded the groceries we’d picked up along the way into the galley, and put our clothes away. We barely knew each other, but it felt okay somehow.

I motored out into the deep water, taking my rod out and locking it into place on the starboard side of the boat.

I piloted around the lake slowly, pointing at waterfront property. Big six- and seven-bedroom places that had been remodeled recently. And more secluded houses from the 1970s and ’80s. Older, but on perfect little inlets.

Kelly mentioned that she had fixed up her old house outside of Charleston, three years ago. The place she’d left to move to Mason Falls.

“I scrubbed and painted that house,” she said. “Installed the wood floors myself.”

“So you’re not just artistic?” I smiled. “You’re available for weekend work?”