Hot damn! Liv was right—this trip to the beach was exactly what she needed.
Chapter Seven
WhileAddy’spouletbasquaisebraised in the rental cottage’s oven, she stretched out on the squashy sofa, propped her feet on the sea chest coffee table, and opened the journal Liv had assigned her—still mostly empty, except for a few pages devoted to Kieran.
If this sweet little cottage were home, she could take her time figuring out her feelings about him, her next steps, and her pain-in-the-ass family. But “home” was a bland, golf-course condo chosen for its proximity to the base. Funny how this rental made her feel more at home than she ever had in that ultra-modern building.
A line at the top of an empty journal page caught her eye:The decisions you make are a choice of values that reflect your life in every way. – Alice Waters
What a weird coincidence, to encounter a quote by a famous chef on the first day in ages she indulged her love of cooking. An eerie tingle danced down Addy’s spine.
She tapped her pen on the page. “Okay then, values.”
Snoot looked up and thumped his tail on the floor.
“Right you are, my love. I value…”
The dog held her gaze, his liquid brown eyes rapt.
“Time with Snoot.” Grinning, she jotted that down. “What else?”
Her buddy heaved a noisy sigh and rested his chin on his crossed forelegs.
“Big help you are.” She clicked her pen rapidly for a moment before adding
Service
Duty
Loyalty
“Yeah, but to whom?”
She scribbledfamily, then scratched it out. Then wrote it again.
Since honesty was another of her values, putting family on this list grated like sand in her undies. She chewed on her pen. “Not family per se, but…community? Family of the heart?”
With a snarl of frustration, she scratched throughfamilyyet again, pressing so hard she tore a hole in the paper.
“Damn it,” she growled, then turned the page and printedSELF CAREin block letters. After all, Liv insisted she indulge herself on this trip. But what counted as self-care?
Last night had left her feeling very cared for indeed—also seen, heard, even protected. Other than Liv, no one had made her feel that way in ages—not her therapist, and definitely not the hospital’s PTSD support group that clammed up as soon as a Lieutenant Colonel entered their circle.
But she couldn’t drag Kieran to her next assignment. The sweet, hunky lighthouse keeper had already found his home, and she needed to find hers.
Ironic—cruel, even—how the universe threw a “keeper” like Kieran across her path at a juncture where keeping him was out of the question. If she let herself linger on that thought, she’d get so bogged down in regret she’d be unable to tackle the urgent problems before her.
She nibbled her pen. “I dunno, Snoot. What makes me feel cared for besides hanging out with you?”
The dog sprang up, fetched his tennis ball, and dropped it at her feet.
“Exercise. Good one.” She jotted down the word, twisted in her seat, and tossed the ball down the short hallway. Snoot scrabbled after it.
Outdoor time,she added to the list. Didn’t get much of that with her long hours in the operating room.
Connection? Friendship?
When the timer dinged, she tucked her journal away and returned to the kitchen, opening drawers until she found a pair of oven mitts shaped like sharks. Cute.
