Not because I had hurt him openly.
Because he had hidden the hurt.
I tightened my grip.
“I appreciate you now.”
Reid went motionless.
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
He looked toward the harbor windows.
I could see him refusing to turn the words into more than I had offered.
“I kissed you,” I added.
“I remember.”
“More than once.”
“Yes.”
“That implies some degree of appreciation.”
“Or impaired judgment.”
I smiled.
His eyes returned to me.
The warmth there moved through my chest.
“Do it.”
“What?”
“The whistle.”
He glanced at Marlowe, then gave the signal softly.
Two quick notes.
One long.
The dog’s head rose.
I closed my eye.
The response came immediately.
Something inside me turned.
Not the recollection of Reid.
The certainty of him.
