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Rebel jumped up when his car door creaked open, her ears pricking forward and tail wagging in recognition.
He smiled as he approached the porch. “Hey, girl. Did you have fun today?” he asked the dog, rubbing her ear, but his gaze was focused on Veronica.
“She did.” Her voice was quiet, but there was a strength that hadn’t been there before. “We did.”
“When did the guys leave?”
“Not long ago. Pierce and Raszta are still here, though.” She nodded toward the temporary camp at the end of the driveway. “Taking the bodyguard shift tonight.”
“Yeah, saw them when I came in.” He followed her gaze. Pierce sat on a log beside the tent, his mop dog sprawled at his feet as he strummed a guitar. He noticed them looking his way and raised a hand in two-finger a wave. Veronica waved back with a genuine smile.
He stared at her as the soothing sounds of Pierce’s guitar drifted on the ocean breeze. At that moment, she looked like the Veronica he knew from childhood— resilient, fearless, and vibrant. So different from the woman who had been locked inside herself for far too long.
Wow. Okay. What the hell had the Redwood Coast Rescue guys done or said to make her so comfortable, so open, so... at ease?
Relief warred briefly with a surprising spike of jealousy. Stupid to be jealous that she’d found comfort in the company of men who cared about her, but there it was.
“You’re different,” he said eventually, breaking their silence.
Veronica turned her smile toward him, and that selfish bit of jealousy evaporated. “In a good way?”
“I think so. You were okay with having them all here?”
“Not at first,” she admitted with a soft laugh. “Did you know they were coming?”
“Not until they showed up.”
She nodded. “I’m glad they didn’t tell you. You would’ve tried to stop them to protect me.”
“Yes, I would have.”
“But I needed it. Needed that push.”
“That’s what Zak said, too. He called it an intervention.”
“Of course he did. And I guess it was.”
Connelly stayed where he was a moment longer, trying to decipher what was going on behind those hazel eyes. He wished he could read her thoughts like he used to when they were kids. She had always been an open book back then, her emotions playing out across her expressive face for the whole world to see. Now, she was a fortress.
“So,” she said and shifted to face him again. “What did Alexis and Cal want to talk about?”
He joined her on the porch and sank onto the step beside her. He rubbed his hands over his face, trying to wipe away the memory of those photos. All those dead women...
He shook his head. “Tomorrow. I can’t talk about it anymore tonight. It’s... ugly.”
She reached out and laced her fingers through his. “I hate that I couldn’t go with you.”
“You could have.”
She shook her head and stared out over the lawn. “No, I couldn’t have. I wasn’t ready then.” Something in her tone was different—more certain, almost defiant. “This morning, I still wasn’t ready to face the world. But...”
“But what?” he prompted when she trailed off.
“But I threw a Frisbee today.” Her smile was back, sudden and blinding. “I hung out with friends and threw a Frisbee in my yard. And I think now...” She drew a breath. “Maybe we can try getting dinner in town tonight?”
Connelly watched her profile against the late afternoon light, hardly believing what she’d said. “Are you sure?”
She took a moment before answering. “I won’t know unless I try.”
