Page 29 of Deep Cover

She felt Stina’s stare and shifted in her chair. She used to be good at being around people. Had friends once, a whole group of them before…well, everything.

Over the years, that circle had dwindled to the occasional drink with a colleague. After Phillip died, even those stopped.

Jolie brought a steaming mug to the table and set it before Caryssa.

“Thank you.” She wrapped her fingers around it and brought it halfway to her mouth. The steam rising from it made her mind go right back to all the things she and Reid did only hours before.

“You must feel a little out of place.” Stina’s words came out a touch on the rough side, and Jolie jumped in to rescue the moment.

“She means being here, around the team. Believe me, we get it. Sometimes it can be rough, living with all this testosterone. But we have fun too. It’s close to a never-ending sleepover. And…we’re glad you can join us.” When she smiled this time, there was no question it was genuine.

Caryssa took a sip and set the mug down. “This is definitely different from my usual assignments.”

They both laughed softly.

“Truth be told, I haven’t gotten out much lately.” Or the past six years, to be exact.

“Didn’t you have friends in your office?” Again, Stina’s conversation could be construed as impolite or unkind, but Caryssa guessed she was more curious than anything. And she knew a bit about Stina’s life in Chicago. The woman hadn’t had it easy, working late nights and living in bad parts of the city.

“I had a few friends.” She turned to her tea again, trying to think of what to say to keep the conversation flowing while avoiding any talk about herself.

She wasn’t about to share that after Reid died, she turned inward. A grief that size didn’t leave room for much else, and she left Philadelphia soon after, unable to face their friends or people who would ask questions about what happened to him.

Pretty soon all her old friends turned to acquaintances and then drifted away altogether.

Jolie touched the back of Caryssa’s hand, startling her out of her deep thoughts. “How close were you two? You and Rivers?”

Her chest squeezed. “I thought he was going to propose.”

The women’s faces blanked and then seemed to melt with sympathy.

She went on, “He just had to go on one last mission first. That was the deal. One more, and then he was out, but then—” She swallowed hard, unable to finish the sentence in a way that didn’t end in a closed casket.

Jolie’s face crumpled with a sympathy so immediate and unguarded that Caryssa almost couldn’t bear to look at her.

“Oh, Caryssa.” She reached across the table and her hand landed lightly over Caryssa’s wrist. “I’m so sorry. That’s—I can’t even imagine.”

Caryssa managed a thin smile. “It was a long time ago.”

“Any time is a long time when you’ve spent it thinking someone is gone.”

Stina made a small noise and then pushed her chair away from the counter with sudden purpose. “Okay. This calls for ice cream. Immediately.”

She grabbed on to the announcement and ran with it.

“You know what goes with ice cream?” Caryssa pushed away from the counter too, grateful for the out. “Warm mug cakes.”

“Yes!” Jolie jumped up too, and the sadness in Caryssa split, just slightly, at the edges.

She talked them through how to make the cakes. Start with a mug, some flour, cocoa and sugar, a little milk and oil and a dash of vanilla. Ninety seconds in the microwave later, Jolie’s face lit up when hers came out fluffy and rich with steam curling off the top.

While Stina waited for hers to cook, she scooped three small dishes of ice cream for them.

Jolie was already digging into her cake with a spoon. As soon as she took a bite, her eyes lit up. “This is incredible. My brothers and sister would have loved this when they were kids. I’m going to text the recipe to all of them.”

Stina placed the ice cream back in the freezer and slammed the door shut. “It’s nicer to share a mug cake with friends or family, I’m sure.” She sent Caryssa another look. “Mug cakes are a bit sad on their own, if you think about it. Single serving. No sharing. It’s basically a dessert designed for people who’ve made peace with being alone.”

“I resent that,” Caryssa said with a flicker of teasing in her eyes. She issued a low laugh. “Mostly because it’s accurate.” She retrieved Stina’s mug from the microwave and set it on the counter for it to cool. Then she placed her own inside and started the timer.