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Gemma came over and sat beside me. “That’s okay. There’ll be other days.”
“What were you doing when Holly called?” I asked, shifting my eyes to her. She looked like she’d come from walking the beach, but I’d learned that she looked that way whether she’d just pulled off a twelve-hour stint in the ER, got done with a workout, or was drinking coffee in the morning. She had an effortless beauty to her that only enhanced her gentle but steady spirit.
“Nothing super important. I’ve got this idea in my head to grow a little herb garden. See, in Chicago, I lived in a high-rise apartment. I didn’t even have window boxes. But here, I’m renting a little beach cottage and the previous tenant must have had a green thumb, because there are these little garden spots all over the back yard. I just kind of want to keep that going, and figured, my first foray would be herbs and spices.”
“You like to cook?”
“When I have time. Usually on my days off, I’ll cook up a big batch of something to pop in the freezer and get me through the busy workdays.”
“Smart.”
“What about you?” She asked, looking down at me. I could barely keep my eyes open but stared at her through the hazy slits my eyelids had become as they drooped lower and lower. “You like to cook?”
I shook my head but couldn’t tell if it actually moved. Everything felt heavy and light at the same time. “Not really. My mom though…she was a chef. Like, I’m talking a real master.”
Gemma bit her lip and I could see the question in her mind. I forced my eyes open again. “She’s been gone for fifteen years,” I said quietly. “Cancer.”
“I’m so sorry.”
I nodded. “Me too. She was the best.”
I must have drifted off entirely at some point, because when my eyes opened, Jack and Holly were sitting cross legged on the floor around the coffee table, digging into their burgers and fries.
“Hey Player, we got you a milkshake and a double combo with onion,” Jack called over to me. “Your favorite.”
“Where’s Gemma?” My voice came out scratchy like I’d been sleeping with my mouth open. Bet that was sexy.
“I’m right here,” her soft voice warmed me as she stepped back into the room. She grinned at me like she’d caught me with my hand in the cookie jar. “Did you think I’d abandon my favorite patient so suddenly?”
I laughed and shook my head.
I didn’t know what she was doing to me. All I knew was—I liked it.
18
“Open up Mr. Rosen! We need to speak with you! Open up.”
Shit. The day of reckoning had come. I rolled to my uninjured side and slowly worked my stiff muscles out of bed.
“Mr. Rosen.”
“I’m coming!” I bellowed in the general direction of the door. “Fuck,” I muttered irritably under my breath. “No fuckin’ patience…”
I slipped into my waiting pair of slippers and padded gingerly across the hardwood floors toward the front door. A peek through the security window confirmed my suspicion. The FAA agents had rooted me out and they weren’t going to leave without answers.
“Good morning, agents,” I sneered, flinging the door open.
There were two agents standing on the front porch. A stocky male, a few inches shorter than me, but about twice as wide. Then, to his left, a female agent with dark shades, dark hair, and a thin lipped smile that fell as soon as I glanced at her. “Mr. Rosen, my name is Gary, and this is Frankie,” he gestured to the woman. “We’re here to talk to you about the accident.”
I sighed. “All right. Come on in.”
They stepped into the living room and both took a quick, sweeping glance over the odd setup with my mattress taking up most of the space and the couches all pushed against the walls. “Stairs are tricky right now,” I explained.
“Right. How are you feeling?” Frankie asked.
“Been better. Been worse.” I shrugged. I wanted to cut to the chase as soon as possible. The last thing I felt like doing was rehashing the crash in graphic detail for them, but I knew it was a necessary evil. They wouldn’t leave me alone until they had their answers. “Let’s go to the dining room. That might be more comfortable.”
They followed as I led them into the kitchen that had a small dining room attached through a large arched opening. Gary and Frankie sat on one side of the table and I took a seat opposite Frankie. Gary pulled his phone out of his pocket, tapped the screen, and set the device on the table. “Mind if we record?”
I shrugged.
“I need an audible yes or no. For the record.”
“Okay, yes, you can record.”
“Great.” He punched one more button and a red light flashed on the center of the touch screen. “So, let’s start with the basics. You were flying the Cessna when the crash occurred?”
