She’s probably dating Derek now, he told himself. But that dark thought didn’t bring logic. It shredded it.

“Intimidating Luke Dempsey is never nice,” she said.

“Never.”

“I understand. You’re like Lady Gaga. You—”

“I’m nothing like Lady Gaga.”

“—have an image to maintain. No need to worry. Your secret niceness is safe with me.”

“I have no secret niceness.”

“That’s because it’s secret even from you. Don’t be alarmed.” She lifted her hands in front of her like a person showing the police they held no weapons. “I’m not going to make any sudden movements, but I am going to give you a hug. A friendly one.”

He wanted to feel her body against his so badly that it made him angry at himself.

“May I?” she asked.

He tipped his chin. She wrapped her arms around him and laid her head against his chest.

His arms had a mind of their own. They banded around her. His chin rested gently on the top of her head. She was warm, her body fit and soft at the same time. He closed his eyes, trying to memorize the feel of her.

They breathed together, and a hard knot inside of him loosened.

Holding her like this was less sexual but more emotional. Back in the day, he’d been able to compartmentalize sex. This, he couldn’t.

“I’d been worried,” she murmured against his shirt, “that the Dewey decimal number was a dead end . . . that we wouldn’t be able to finish this hunt. And I couldn’t stand the thought that you wouldn’t receive closure.”

“Me? This is your hunt.”

“This is our hunt.”

“This is your hunt.”

“Fine. This is my hunt. But the completion of it fulfills your promise. It’s important to me that you have the chance to make good on what you told my dad you’d do.”

They stood there for a few more minutes. He heard dog nails on hardwood and the ice maker dropping new cubes in the freezer.

Eventually, Finley parted from him and returned her attention to the calendar page on the table. “April twentieth fell on a Saturday almost nine years ago. I know that because Sunday, April twenty-first, is a day that will always be seared into my consciousness. That’s the day Dad shot Carla and his whole world came tumbling down.”

She’d easily transitioned from hugging him back to the treasure hunt. He had no ability to transition from holding her to anything else. The contact between them had dazed his brain.

She chewed the edge of her lip. “This day, this Saturday, should have been the last normal, uneventful day of Dad’s life. But he’s asking us to go to Robbie and inquire about it. Why?”