“On my way, Gloria—I’m close. Those apartments aren’t even safe. You shouldn’t be there to begin with. And they’re not going to make it through the hurricane unscathed. Those units are owned by a slumlord and have been falling apart for years.”
Through the phone, she heard the siren on Rigo’s truck begin to wail. “That’s why I called you.”
“Tanna?” Gloria called down the small hallway of the dingy apartment as she disconnected the call. “Are you ready? It’s time to go.”
* * *
In his years patrolling a beat around the streets of Port Provident, Rigo Vasquez had been through some of the island’s seediest crack houses, had shot criminals and had wound up with a few holes of his own, and ultimately watched as his best friend and patrol partner died.
But he’d never felt the slick, icy fear running through his veins like he did now, knowing Lieutenant Felipe Rodriguez’s widow waited on the other side of the door at the top of the stairs.
Rigo looked around the parking lot. Even as the new head of Port Provident’s Beach Patrol—a division of the police force that wasn’t just responsible for lifeguards and water safety, but also for keeping the island’s beaches safe and mischief-free—Rigo couldn’t keep from always assessing the scene. He was always on patrol. Rigo knew to trust his instincts, and he was thankful to have something small to keep his mind off what he was about to do.
He was about to face Gloria for the first time since the night his carelessness took everything away from her. Rigo knew he could never give her back her husband or her unborn child, and his gut squeezed tightly at the bitter memories.
But if he kept his focus and did his job, maybe he could get her out of here safely.
He owed that much to Felipe.
He owed that much to himself.
“Gloria! Open up.” He knocked on the door with his free hand, still gripping his weapon in the other.
Rigo felt his mouth go dry as he saw Gloria for the first time in almost seven hundred and thirty days. Not that he’d been counting. She’d changed, yet still looked completely the same.
Her hair used to come down to her shoulders, but now it fell in layers just past her chin. It seemed lighter, too, with more honey than mocha. But with the summer days just now beginning to fade away, Rigo figured those highlights were the work of hours spent with sun and sand, not in a salon.
Or maybe it was just the glow of the yellow bug light overhead. He didn’t want to think about it too much.
He looked past her into the small, dark apartment. Noticing her hair was okay, he figured, but Rigo didn’t want to see her eyes, didn’t want to remember all the tears. He wanted to get her and her patient to safety, tell himself it made up for the years of pain he’d caused and go back to his carefully orchestrated plan of quietly making amends while living separate lives on the small island.
“You ready?”
“Yes.” She let out a soft breath, like a feather floating away on the breeze. He wondered if she’d been holding it as she listened to his footsteps come up the stairs.
“Tanna? Come on, honey, we’ve got to go.” Gloria put her arm around a slightly built, very pregnant teenager. A scuffed-up suitcase rested at the girl’s feet. “Felipe will keep us safe.”
She’d called him Felipe.
He didn’t think anything could have hurt more than two years ago when the ER physician came out to tell him that his lifelong best friend, his partner on the force, was dead on arrival at the hospital. But now he knew he’d been wrong.
It was hearing Gloria call him Felipe.
It was hearing the love of his life calling for someone who’d been gone for years.
It was knowing that he couldn’t protect Felipe then, he couldn’t protect Gloria now and he couldn’t protect his heart ever.
“Rigo. I meant Rigo,” Gloria said as they stopped in front of his beach patrol truck. She looked up at him, then just as quickly looked away. “This hurricane has me distracted. Thank you for coming when I called.”
“Gloria, you know I’d do anything for you.”
She stared at him, unblinking.
“Really? So where have you been the last two years?”
She never missed a beat, and she was clearly still as direct as ever.
Rigo took a breath and stared into his cupped hands. He just wanted to get her and the young mother in his truck and get out of there, but he knew he owed her an answer that had already been put off for two years.
“A couple of steps behind, Gloria.”
“What? I had no idea what your answer would be, but I at least expected it to make sense.”
He promised himself a long time ago in a poorly lit, practically bare room that he wouldn’t run from his past anymore. He wanted to break that promise now. Badly. But he’d already broken too many promises where Gloria Garcia Rodriguez was concerned.
“I’ve been around, Gloria. I’ve just tried to stay out of your way since I’ve been back in town.”
“Are you saying you’ve been avoiding me?”
Rigo shrugged. “It hasn’t been coincidence that you didn’t see me, Glo. But it hasn’t been some ulterior motive, either.”
“Then what is it?”
The rain began to fall more steadily from the solid wall of gray overhead.
“It’s complicated, Gloria.” The left corner of his mouth twisted bitterly. “Can we just leave it at that for now? The only thing you need to do is get out of here and off this island. You still have about an hour to get your things and go before they close the causeway. This isn’t the time to conduct an interrogation.”
She started to say something, but Rigo raised a hand and cut her off. “Not that you’re not the best I’ve ever known at it. The CIA should have posted a recruiter at your door before you went to nursing school. They lost out.”
Gloria rolled her eyes. “I don’t know about that.”
“I do. I know a lot about you, remember?”
Rigo’s mind did a quick rewind past recent history and stopped on a sunny day in the late spring almost fifteen years ago. Had it really been that long?
In his mind’s eye, he could see a version of the woman standing in front of him now, with hair teased a few inches higher and lipstick a few shades brighter. She stood at the end of the baseball dugout at Provident High School, just before practice was about to start. His arms wrapped around her waist, and he could almost feel the softness of her curves again under his tight arms, muscular from hours in the weight room and swing after swing that sent baseballs flying over the outfield fence. He remembered her saying something completely serious about where they’d be in the future, and as usual, he’d laughed it off.
“Glo...I’ve told you a thousand times. You’re not going to be happy taking over your parents’ restaurant. You just need to be around babies. Lots of them.” He leaned down and kissed her lightly on the mouth, teasing her out of her scowl and back into a smile. “Preferably mine. After I make it to the big leagues, you can stay home, knee-deep in being a mom, and we’ll pay someone to take over the restaurant. Just because being a madre is a traditional role, it doesn’t mean what’s in your heart is less valuable than being some big-shot career woman. Just be who God made you to be—and He didn’t make you to be a restaurant owner. Don’t let anyone tell you what’s in your heart is wrong. Trust me. I know you. I know you better than you know yourself, Gloria Garcia.”
“Maybe you