“Sound logic,” Leif replies, coughing. Once everyone is onboard he starts the engine and we head back to base. I debate going to visit Caroline at the airport office before my eyes get worse, before I’m more monster than human, but I actually have a bit of work to get done before I leave work for the day.
And I do need to work out.
Chapter Fourteen
Caroline
He looks like a female wet dream as he walks toward me. He has on a pair of cut off khaki shorts, flip flops, and a black tee that shows off every rippled muscle. I didn’t see him yesterday after work because he was busy, nor earlier today because we both had a busy schedule. I expected him to pop into the diner for lunch with a friend like he would do from time to time, but he didn’t. Tahoe did text me almost every waking second all night long. When I broached, as delicately as I could, the voice message I accidentally sent, he said he had no idea what I was talking about. I was relieved, yet suspicious. He called me three times today to make sure we were still on for the party at the spot tonight. While it’s not my typical choice for spending my free time, the fact that we’ll be together changes everything. I’m pretty confident he could lead me up to the gates of hell with ease. It’s not something I’m proud of.
Holding my door open, I lick my lips when he gets close enough to see my face. I want more of what he gives before we leave. It is part of my reasoning for having him come over so early. Tahoe is wearing a pair of dark, aviator sunglasses. That’s not something I’ve ever seen him in before, but we are in Florida where most of the inhabitants wear sunglasses 99 percent of their lives.
He grabs me in a bear hug, lifting me off the ground as he brings me in closer. “I’ve missed you so much,” he whispers into my ear. He inhales deeply and I can actually feel the relief wash over him.
“Don’t be so busy at work then. I missed you, too. Did you get those tickets?” He was trying to get tickets to seeWickedwhile we’re in N.Y.C when he called earlier today.
Pulling away, he grins. “I did. I can’t wait to see it with you,” he says. “How was your day?” He carries me through the entrance and sets my feet down on the stairs leading up to my house.
We walk up together as I tell him first about my boring shift at the diner, and then working on an engine when I got to the airport this afternoon. He closes the door behind us, still keeping the sunglasses on his face. When he notices me studying, he tells me about the work he’s getting done on his house, and the contact I gave him for the appliance man worked out great. He was able to snag top of the line kitchen appliances for next to nothing. He’s using distraction. “Hey, uh, you wear your sunglasses at night?” I sing, moving my shoulders.
“It’s afternoon,” he counters. “I have something to tell you,” he explains, moving his hands by his sides. “Or show you rather.” He clenches and unclenches his fists.
My heart starts hammering because this disposition is something I’ve never seen portrayed before. Not on him, anyways. His shoulders slump and his chin tucks into his chest. He’s sad. He has the sunglasses on because he’s been crying. That must be it. Which probably means something horrible happened. Someone died. And here I am asking about Broadway tickets like some jerk.
“Oh, God. Just tell me now. Spit it out,” I say.
“Sit down.”
I follow his directions, and put my hands on top of my knees. He sits next to me, but leans his back against the arm of the sofa so he’s facing me front on. “You’re scaring me,” I tell him, voice wavering. “Are you okay? Is everyone else okay?”
He clears his throat. “I’m fine. Everyone is fine. There’s, ah, nothing to be scared about,” he says. “I had a little bit of a diving accident when we went out on the boat. Fishing, remember?”
I look over his body up and down, at all of the exposed skin, looking for some kind of wound.
“I remember. And?” My voice quavers with unease.
“And I didn’t clear my mask while diving deep. Essentially, the best way to put it is I got a hickey on my eyeballs,” he says, taking off the sunglasses, keeping his eyes closed. “It’s called a mask squeeze and it will take a long time to go away,” he explains, and then his thick lashes flutter up.
I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this. I jump back, and cover my mouth. “Have you seen a doctor?” I wail behind my hand. It’s that bad. His blue eyes are in stark contrast next to the deep maroon color that used to be the whites of his eyes. “Doctor,” I say one more time, trying to swallow down my fear. He said he was okay. Said that it would go away on its own.
Tahoe winces. “That bad, huh?”
“You knew it was that bad!” I reply. Leaning in, I get a better look and then wish I didn’t. He closes his eyes.
“I’m an idiot. It happens to inexperienced divers a lot. I did see the doc, and the only tincture for my stupidity is time.”
I nod. “Okay. Okay,” I say again. “I can get used to it.”
“You can date a character from Dungeons and Dragons?” he asks. I make the mistake of looking at his eyes a touch longer than I should, so he shuts them.
“You’re not my boyfriend because of the scleral sections of your eyeballs, Tyler Holiday.”
My statement garners a laugh, but he slides his sunglasses back over his eyes. “You don’t have to wear those. Don’t be silly.” Even as I say it, I’m relieved I don’t have to look or not look. It’s awkward either way.
“Why were you diving deep anyways? Weren’t you fishing? I didn’t realize spear fishing involves depth diving.”
He swallows. “I was trying to see how far down I could get. Beat my best depth,” he explains, using his hands to talk.
I quirk one brow and look off to the side. “Sometimes you’re so predictable and then other times it’s like you’re a wild card. You probably almost die on a regular basis doing your job, and then do stupid stuff like that during your off hours? Seems ludicrous.”
