I hadn’t heard that teasing, light tone for what seemed like forever. But it wasn’t. It had been mere weeks. Every day our estrangement continued, however, felt like a year. It was only through Thane I heard the detective inspectors from Lucy’s case had spoken with Arro. There was nothing anyone could do for now because the note was clean of prints, the envelope hadn’t been hand delivered, and no other note had shown up so far.
With Billy’s warning hanging over my head, I worried I was the reason for all this. My rational mind told me it wasn’t possible. I’d investigated the deaths surrounding the others, and no one else had been hurt—just the men who’d been there the day of Craig Kilmany’s murder. It made little sense that if these notes were about Craig that they’d target Arro instead of me, so I didn’t mention it.
Still, I wished like hell she’d let me near her so I could be there to protect her.
A week had passed since the first note, and I’d tried calling Arro every day.
She never called back.
“Arro, it’s me. Call me.” I hung up and winced at how belligerent I’d sounded. Why could I never find the right bloody words to say to her?
She always had the right words for me.
Always.
My memories drifted to the night I fell in love with her …
* * *
These kinds of nights were my favorite on the beach. Cold, but not Baltic, because spring was nearing its end and summer drew closer. The days were growing longer, and the sun still glowed where it met the horizon. The skies above it darkened, bleeding orange into pink to mauve and then to a purple that was almost black.
It was a calm night, so the waves merely lapped at the shore, and it was all I could hear.
All I could feel was the chilly breeze and the wet, cool sand squeezing between my bare toes as I carried my boots.
I thought that missing Robyn would grow easier with time, but these past six months, I’d struggled. I didn’t know what had prompted the dark spiral of thoughts, but every day was a fight to keep myself from going under.
The feeling had worsened since New Year’s Eve. I wanted to tell myself it was because I’d kissed Arrochar, who, as Lachlan’s wee sister and thirteen years my junior, was well and truly off-limits. But the truth was, it was because I’d hardly seen her since the kiss.
I missed her.
And that scared the shit out of me, even more than the fact that she’d given me the best kiss of my life.
As if my thoughts had produced her, a figure in the distance walked down the beach toward the shore. The sway of her hips, her build, the light hair in the last glow of the sun, told me it was Arrochar.
Anger flushed through me when I realized she was alone.
The sun was about to go down, and she was at this beach on her own?
Was she mad?
I picked up my stride, and as I neared her, she neared the shore. She waded in barefoot and placed a bunch of flowers in the water. Realization dawned as she watched the bouquet float out to sea.
Today was the anniversary of Stuart Adair’s death.
My fear for her safety and subsequent anger dimmed. I couldn’t lecture her about coming out here alone.
“Arro.”
She startled, her eyes round with surprise as she glanced over her shoulder at me. “Mackennon?”
My heart lurched at hearing my name on her lips. No one called me Mackennon. The last person who ever had was my gran, and she was long gone.
I didn’t understand why Arro using my full name pleased me so much. I didn’t want to analyze it.
“Are you okay?” I held out my free hand to help her from the water.
Arro glanced down at my palm, and for a moment, I was afraid she wouldn’t take it. While nothing romantic could ever happen between us, I couldn’t stand the thought of us no longer being friends.