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“That’s true,” Christy confirmed. “That’s a rock solid group, and we’d definitely be getting off the island.”
A customer entered the shop, and Tancy stepped away from the counter. “Can’t wait for tomorrow’s question.”
Christy gave them a wave, and she followed Hayle to a table in the back. “That was fun.”
Hayle slipped off her jacket and dropped into a chair. “Should I be worried about your brother? Do you think one of my crazy cousins will allow him to get pulled into something he may not survive?”
“Forget pull. He’s running at it with his hair on fire.” She slouched against the soft velvet chair that threatened to swallow her. “He has a taste for high-risk stunts, and given our family history, that is not a good thing.”
“At least he’s trying to use his brains and skills for good and not evil,” Hayle added helpfully.
“There is a thin line separating the two, and his supercomputer MIT-trained brain doesn’t always detect the difference.” She crossed her legs. “Our parents were charlatans that justified the most abhorrent choices without blinking an eye. I worry that the whole nature vs. nurture thing won’t tip in our favor, and we’ll be unable to overcome those early influences.”
“That’s hogwash.” Hayle leaned forward. “You and Nathan will not wake up one morning and suddenly become larcenous, grabby-handed grifters. You’ve spent more time under the care of Sadie Foster than the people who gave birth to you. And believe me, it shows. You and your brother may not always follow the rules, but youalwaysdo the right thing for the right reasons.”
“Thanks for saying that.” Their drinks were delivered in blue glazed cups, and Tancy filled her lungs with the smell of chocolate and coffee.
“What’s brought all this up anyway? You never talk about your parents.”
She sipped her mocha latte and sighed. “Teague asked me why I was such a relentless do-gooder, and it made me think about all the things I’ve allowed to influence my choices.”
“And what have you come up with?”
“The bottom line is that I never want to be like my parents and worry that those pesky criminal genetics might take root if I’m not vigilant.” She wrinkled her nose. “Which is clearly the driving force behind my need to blanket so many people in unwanted benevolence.”
“That’s not the worst coping mechanism that you could’ve chosen. So don’t be so hard on yourself.”
“I guess that’s true.” She looked out the window. “I’ve been through enough therapy to understand the early trauma’s mechanics, so it’s just a matter of accessing the best tool and not choosing the most familiar one. Even though acting like an avenging angel is so much easier than sitting in my feelings and picking them apart one by one.
“Just being able to make a statement like that tells me you’re headed in the right direction,” Hayle said firmly. “Look that trauma straight in the eye and let it know you’re the boss and writing a new narrative.”
“Amen.” She clinked her cup against Hayley’s. “And since I love being a boss, those old traumas don’t stand a chance.”
“Either does, my cousin, if the other night at the bar was any indication. He looked like he wanted to harm any man who got with a foot of you.”
Pursing her lips, she sat back. “I see you’ve taken off your psychologist hat and put on your matchmaker one.”
“I can’t help myself. I love, love, and think you and Teague might be perfect for one another.”
“Are you saying that because we have complimentary quirks?”
“Partly. But what will work in your favor the most is that you’re essentially best friends. There’s no artifice or trying to be on your best behavior. You’ve seen the worst of one another and still seek each other’s company most days.” Which makes the whole argument about marrying your best friend one to pay attention to.”
She nodded faintly and knew that matchmaker Hayle was spot on. Not that she was ready to do anything about it.
Teague finished mowing the lawn and saw Miles park in front of his house. Studying his friend as he climbed out of his truck made him wonder if the years on the Teams were exacting their price. The tight lines around Miles’s eyes and flat smile were familiar and something he’d seen regularly in the mirror when he returned home. “Hey, man.”
Miles pointed to the lawn. “That’s some nice cross-hatching. Did it take you long to perfect it?”
“At least six months,” he replied with a chuckle. “How are you doing?”
“As good as can be expected.”
“How did the last assignment with Rorke go? Was the protection gig as dull as you assumed?”
“It was a cake walk and believe it or not, I kinda liked the lack of bullets flying.”
“A sure sign that you retired at just the right time.”
