“When you were talking to Kimber.”

“I said a lot of things to my sister. And none of them are your business,” she said, pulling a soft throw off the back of the couch and spreading it over her legs.

He was pacing again.

“Wait, you’re mad at me about something I said to my sister in a private conversation?”

He stopped again and took a step toward her, then shoved a hand through his hair. “Mad doesn’t begin to describe how I feel.”

She’d never heard that tone from him before. It was brittle, jagged. He swallowed hard like the words were lodging themselves in his throat. But she squashed the desire to fix it, to make him more comfortable.

“You told her that you were hard to love. That you thought you were too much.”

The man had fought her off, zip-tied her, then hauled her ass to a holding cell, and he was upset that she’d announced a universal truth to her sister.

She tucked her feet under her. “I’m tired. What’s your point? What do you want me to say?”

He was moving again. Stepping into her space, he put his hands on the cushion on either side of her head. The fire flickered behind him as he loomed over her.

“Do you believe that?” His voice was a rasp, his eyes almost silver in the low light. A long beat of silence stretched on, broken only by their breaths.

Finally, she nodded. It was the truth. One she’d known as long as she’d known her own name.

“Remington, anyone who ever makes you feel as if you’re hard to love is a damn fool and doesn’t deserve to be in your world.”

She blinked. His nearness was taking the chill out of her bones, lighting up the shadows.

“Why do you care?” she whispered.

In slow motion, he removed one hand from the back of the couch and gently cupped her cheek. On instinct, she nuzzled against his palm and was rewarded with his hiss of breath.

“Because you’re the best person I know.”

His words were like a caress. A balm on some raw spot that had never healed. His thumb brushed over her lips. Once. Twice.

And then he was pulling back, straightening away from her. “Go to bed, Remi.” The order was gruff yet gentle.

Mouth open in stunned silence, she didn’t move from the spot as Sergeant Brick Callan put his hat back on and walked out, locking the door between them.

26

It had been a long, shitty day.

She spent the morning in her parents’ basement when Darlene and Gilbert forced their daughters to prime and seal the cinderblock walls. Apparently adult children could indeed be punished by their parents.

Kimber had barely spoken a word to her for four straight hours.

After that, Remi had gone straight to the island’s medical center, where Dr. Sarah Ferrin had asked about how many vegetables she’d eaten that week and then cut off her cast. It should have been a celebration, the end of healing, the return to normal. But normal still eluded her.