The Millionaire's Homecoming

A long time since she had come first. Not that it was personal. It was an emergency responder prioritizing.

She cast David a glance. Thankfully, he had turned his attention back to the road. He was an excellent driver, alert and relaxed at the same time, fast but controlled. His face had a stubborn set to it. He had, in that infernally aggravating way of his, put his priorities in order, and a dog was not among them!

“Can I borrow your cell phone?” Her voice came out faintly slurred over a thick tongue, and much as the admission hurt, Kayla knew he had made the right decision.

He fished the phone out of his pocket and tossed it to her casually.

Who to call about the dog? She barely knew anyone here anymore. The neighbors across the street had their name on their mailbox. And children home for the summer.

She navigated his phone to a local directory, looked up her neighbor’s number and asked whether her kids could look for the dog. She offered a reward, and then as an afterthought, payment if they would go collect her bike and belongings.

“I said I’d look after it,” he said when she clicked off.

She gave him a frosty look that she hoped, despite the swollen brow, let him know she would look after her own life, thank you very much.

Despite her discomfort, Kayla could not help but notice the details of the gorgeous vehicle. Sleek and posh, the subtle statement of a man who had parlayed his substantial talent for being able to discern the right thing into a sizable fortune and an amazing success story.

Not like Kevin.

Again, the thought came from nowhere, as if somehow David’s close proximity was coaxing to the surface feelings she did not want to acknowledge about her late husband.

Guilt washed over her. And then she just felt angry. She had tried so, so hard to put Kevin back together again, and not a word from David.

The ride with him was mercifully short given that his scent—masculine and clean—was mingling with the scent of sun on leather, and tickling at her nostrils. In minutes, his driving fast, controlled and superb, they arrived at the small village emergency clinic.

For practical purposes it was located adjacent to the public beach where the huge influx of summer visitors didn’t always recognize the dangers hidden beneath the benign scene of a perfect summer.

But David knew them. He knew those dangers intimately. Kayla was aware of David’s shoulders tightening as he pulled into the parking lot.

He got out of the car and she followed, watching as he went still and gazed out over the nearby beach.

Fried onion and cooking French fries smells wafted out of the concession and the sand was dotted with the yellow-striped sun umbrellas rented from a stand. Out on the water, people who didn’t have a clue what they were doing paddled rented kayaks and canoes.

Teenagers had laid claim to the floats that swayed on sparkling waters, and bikini-clad girls shrieked as boys splashed them or tried to toss them in the water.

Toddlers played with sand buckets, mothers handed out sandy potato chips and farther back, among the cottonwoods, grandmothers sat in the deep shade engrossed in books or crossword puzzles.

The lifeguards, alone, were not in fun mode. They sat in high chairs, watching, watching, watching.

She hadn’t been there that day it had happened. The day that had changed all of them forever. David was looking at one of the lifeguards, frowning.

What did David see? She saw a young man who was slouched in his chair, looking faintly bored behind sunglasses, as he endlessly scanned the waters between the sand and the buoys that ended the designated swimming area.

For a moment the expression on David’s face was unguarded, and she could see sorrow swim in the depths of those amazing eyes. Her animosity toward him flagged. Was it possible that like Kevin, he could not put it behind him?

“David?” She touched his arm.

He broke his gaze and looked at her, momentarily puzzled, as if he didn’t know who she was or where he was.

“It was a long time ago,” she said softly.

He flinched, and then shook off her arm. “I don’t need your pity,” he said quietly, his voice cold and hard-edged.

“It wasn’t pity,” she said, stung.

“What was it, then?” His voice sounded harsh.

She hesitated. “A wish, I guess.”

“A wish?”

“That it could somehow be undone. That we could have been the same people we were before it happened.”

For a moment he looked like he was going to say something, and that he bit it back with great effort.

“Wishes are for children,” he said grimly.

“And that’s the day childhood ended for you,” she noted softly.

“No, it isn’t. I wasn’t a child anymore.” He didn’t say neither was Kevin, but she heard it as clearly as if he had spoken it. “It was the day childhood ended for her. Not us. That little girl who drowned.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“No,” he said firmly, “It wasn’t.”

Which left the cold, hard truth about whose fault it had been. It had been an accident. A terrible tragedy.

But somehow he had always blamed Kevin, never forgiven him. David’s hard attitude had been part of what destroyed him.

That’s what Kayla needed to remember when she was leaning toward him, thinking illicit thoughts about his lips and admiring how posh his car was.

“It was an accident,” she said, “There was a full investigation. Ultimately, it was an accident. Her parents should have been watching more closely.”

His eyes narrowed on her. “How long did he tell you that before you started believing it?”

“Excuse me?”

His tone was furious. “Her parents weren’t trained lifeguards. How would they know that drowning isn’t the way it is in the movies? Would they know sometimes there is not a single sound? Not a scream? Not a splash? Not a hand waving frantically in the air?

“He knew that. He knew that, but you know what? He wasn’t watching.”

Kayla could feel the color draining from her face. “You’ve always blamed him,” she whispered. “Everything changed between the two of you after that. How could you do that? You were his best friend. He needed you.”

“He needed to do his job!”

“He was young. He was distracted. Anybody could be distracted for a second.”

“The end of our friendship doesn’t just fall on my shoulders,” David said quietly. “Kevin wouldn’t talk to me after the investigation. He was mad because I told the truth.”