“Okay,” Caspian said, opening the door. “Thanks for the update, and let me know when you find more.”
“Sure thing. I’ll call you tomorrow. Just ... watch yourself, Caspian. This Mia is a capable lady.”
The screen door of his parents’ house creaked, and Caspian’s gaze drifted back in that direction. His parents, Nelson, and Clara were inside now, but another figure stepped into view.
Caspian’s heart skipped a beat.
Liesel leaned against the railing, her arms crossed casually. She wore dark jeans and a red, baggy sweatshirt. Her dark hair was tousled from the breeze coming from the bay. Her eyes were fixed on him, unreadable. But her expression wasn’t hard, just cautious.
And maybe a little hopeful?
For a long moment, Caspian didn’t move, happy to only stare at her. Then, all the tension in his body subsided, like a muscleunclenching. Just seeing Liesel smoothed the hard edge he’d felt since the last time he’d seen her. Somehow, he felt lighter on his feet. The way she hadn’t replied to his emails or to his calls, and how she’d pulled back after Istanbul and let the distance, and silence, grow between them, had bothered him. But he hadn’t realized how much weight it had added on his shoulders until now.
But damn was he happy to see her.
“Caspian?” Ranger’s voice crackled. “You still there?”
“Yes,” he murmured. “I gotta go, Sam.”
He ended the call and fully stepped out of the Jeep. The sea breeze hit him, and cool air filled his lungs. Liesel was the one thing in his life he hadn’t been able to file into a compartment. She was the risk, and the exception to every rule he’d set for himself.
“Hey, Casp,” Liesel said, her soft, familiar voice anchoring him.
He shoved his phone into his pocket and found himself grinning.
“Hey,” he said, then started toward the steps.
Chapter Fifty-One
Portland, Maine
The sunroom’s tall windows caught the last stretch of light as the sun slanted low across the Casco Bay. Inside, the air carried the salty tang of low tide from the breeze that snuck in through the cracked-open window. The room, which was in a quiet corner of the house, had always been Caspian’s mother’s favorite. From the kitchen at the far end of the hall, Caspian could hear laughter and the clink of cutlery being set on plates.
Dinner was imminent, but he wasn’t hungry. Far from it.
He sat in a love seat, elbows on his knees, shoulders hunched. Across from him, Liesel leaned into the cushions of the settee, a throw blanket covering her legs.
“My wounds are healing fast,” she said, answering his question. “The stitches are out. Still a little sore, though, but every day is better than the last.”
“You look good,” he said.
“Thanks.”
The laughter coming from the kitchen rose again. Someone had told a joke, probably his father, and it only deepened the contrast with the silence in the sunroom.
“I thought about staying in Germany,” Liesel said.
Caspian’s throat turned dry. “Because of work?”
“No.” She shook her head. “You know it has nothing to do with that. I love my job as a liaison officer with SSU. It’s a good challenge.”
His chest tightened. “Then what is it?”
She exhaled loudly, folding her arms. “It’s about us. About me, really.”
Caspian sat forward, uncertain where this conversation was going. He drew in a breath, and doing his best to keep his voice even, he said, “I called you. I emailed and texted, too, but you didn’t reply. For days.”
“I know.”
