“Please, you should be relaxing. You were living in the wilderness for weeks!” Claire sat and watched him as he dashed around the kitchen. So much about Marty reminded her of Becca. It was the small things, the things she didn’t even think about anymore – the quick way Becca used to move, or the scowl that would settle on her face when she was thinking.

Marty was like an echo of her. It dredged up old feelings and gave Claire a strong impulse to protect him – the way she never could protect her sister.

“I’ve also got a mixed rice going. I hope it’s okay that I made it?” he asked, pulling her from her thoughts.

She smiled and nodded. “Of course! I got all of that food for you. I eat most of my meals at the hotel these days.”

He stirred the pot. “How’s everything going there?”

Claire shrugged. “Pretty good. No more visits from the FBI, at least.”

He let out a laugh. “That’s good.”

“Have I told you about my friend Margie? She lives on San Juan Island. Her brother was in the FBI, so maybe he could help?”

“I appreciate the thought, but it won’t work.” Marty turned around to face her. “I have to get evidence before I can talk to them.”

“What if that’s not possible?”

He let out a sigh. “It’ll be a lot less possible to prove anything if I’m behind bars.”

Oof. Claire knew he was right, but it was still hard to think about. “Fair enough. Is the venture capital company going forward with buying SureFired?”

“As far as I know, yes.” He rubbed his forehead. “I never thought that working on something so cool could go so wrong. People could lose their lives.”

The timer dinged. Marty turned the oven off and brought the pot of rice to the table.

“How much rice would you like?” he asked, putting a heaping spoon onto her plate.

“That’s good, thanks,” Claire said.

He nodded, then served rice for himself before taking a seat. “It’s wild. I don’t think anyone else realizes how dangerous it’ll be if the model misrepresents how much time people have to escape.”

Claire looked up at him. “No pressure, huh?”

“Yeah, exactly.” Marty took his seat. “Thanks again for letting me crash here. It’s given me some time to think.”

“I’m glad I could help,” Claire said, smiling at him before taking her first bite of salmon. “Hey, this is pretty good, Marty!”

“Thanks! Yeah, it turned out okay.”

Claire smiled to herself. What a scene this was. Sitting and having dinner with Becca’s son. If only her mom and dad were still alive. They would’ve loved to meet him.

“Are you going back to the hotel tonight?” Marty asked.

“I wasn’t planning to. I have a, uh, thing at seven.”