“Come on in, Sully,” I said.
He did, making the houseboat seem a lot smaller. Boomer, my alleged watchdog, nosed his hand. Sully’s mouth tugged, and he scratched my dog’s ears, meaning that from that point on, Sullivan Fletcher could’ve hacked me to pieces with a dull axe and Boomer would watch, wagging his tail, waiting for a belly rub.
“Um, do you want some wine or something? A beer?”
“No, thanks.” He glanced at my sling but said nothing. Was he assessing my weakness? My collarbone felt a lot better, but I wasn’t up for a fight.
Knock it off, Nora, I told myself. Sullivan had been perfectly pleasant at the bakery last week. I had no reason to be afraid. “Your daughter seems great,” I offered.
He smiled, and my fears dissipated by about 50 percent. “She is,” he said.
“Do you have other kids?”
“No.” He offered nothing more.
“You were pretty young when you had her.” Shit, Nora, none of your business.
“Ayuh.”
He didn’t mention who the mother was. I glanced at his left hand. No ring.
“So what brings you here, Sullivan?”
He glanced out the window. “Just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood, I guess,” he said.
“Thank you.”
“And give you the heads-up that Luke is staying at the boatyard for the time being.”
There was that painful buzz of fear, and my mouth got the best of me. “Yeah. My mom told me. How is he? How’s he been doing, I mean? Uh, is he married? Does he have kids, too? Or, I don’t know, a dog?”
Sullivan frowned slightly.
“Sorry,” I said. “I guess I worry that he still...resents me.”
“He does.”
Shit.
Boomer lay down at Sully’s feet and put his head on his shoe. Over here, dummy, I wanted to say. Mommy needs you. Fight to the death, remember?
“He never left the island after high school,” Sullivan said, rubbing the back of his head—maybe where he’d been injured. He looked out the window. “Well, he did a semester at UMaine, but he flunked out.”
I swallowed. “And you, Sully? What happened with you?”
He looked back at me. “Sorry, what did you say?”
“Were you okay? From the accident?”
“Oh. Yeah, more or less.”
What did that mean? “I was really sorry to hear about...you. Being hurt, I mean,” I said.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“Kind of felt like it.”
He shrugged. “Far as I can remember, my brother was the one who was coked up and driving, not you. Anyway, he heard you’re back, and it stirred up some stuff. He’ll probably have something ugly to say to you when you run into him.”
I stiffened. You know...screw that. I’d had enough ugly things said to me by hostile men. “Well, when you see him, tell him to fuck off for me, will you?”
There. That felt good. That was the brave me. Boomer wagged his tail in approval.
Sullivan gave me a long look. Then the corner of his mouth rose. “Sure thing, Nora,” he said. “But he is my brother, and he’s sleeping on the couch in the office, so he’ll be around.”
“Gotcha.”
“He’s had some drug and alcohol issues, but he’s getting clean now.”
Oh, fuckety fucking McFuckster. Not bad enough that he still had a chip on his shoulder. He was a drug addict, too. And lived just down the road. “Think he’s dangerous?”
“Think I’d let him be near my daughter if I did?”
“I have no idea. I haven’t seen you in seventeen years.”
“Well, I wouldn’t. He’s harmless. Pathetic more than dangerous, but he never did like you getting that scholarship.”
I nodded. Pathetic, sure. Also, I had a big dog who, despite outward appearances, had been trained to protect me. I also had my Smith & Wesson.
“You have a good night, now,” Sully said.
“You, too, Sullivan. Thanks for the warning.”
He nodded, turned away to leave, and that’s when I saw it.
A hearing aid. The BTE type—behind his left ear, encased in plastic.
“Sully?” I asked before I could stop myself.
He didn’t answer. Because he didn’t hear me. “Sullivan?” I said more loudly, putting my hand on his arm.
He turned. “Ayuh?”
“You have a hearing aid.”
He paused, then nodded.
“How bad is your hearing loss?”
He hesitated a second. “Full loss in the right, losing it in the left.”
A loon called, and I instantly wondered if he heard it.
“See you around,” he said and then left, closing the door gently behind him.
The second he was gone, I went to my laptop and Googled to confirm what I already knew.
Bilateral hearing loss after traumatic brain injury.
Luke was still mad at me. Big deal (I thought the words with great bravado). More important, Sullivan had been injured to the point where he was partially deaf. If what he said was right—I’d have to consult one of the ENTs I knew at Boston City—he’d be completely deaf eventually. Maybe soon.
While I knew it wasn’t technically my fault, I still felt like something that should be scraped off a shoe.
* * *
I woke up at 3:15 a.m. Wasn’t that the time that Harry Potter had gotten out of bed to sneak into the library in Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone? Or was it when the paranormal freak-out started every night in The Amityville Horror? Or was it when the twins from the hotel in The Shining... Okay, this was not a healthy train of thought.
However, it was not a reassuring time to be awake in a strange place where, just in case a recovering drug addict or rapist or psychopath decided to kill me, no one would hear me screaming.
Why had I taken this houseboat again? What exactly had been wrong with sharing a room with Poe?
Boomer snuggled a little closer, and I stroked his big head. The Dog of Dogs would protect me. Once, a man had approached us on the Boston Common, and Boomer snarled. The first and only time. I had a lot riding on the idea that my dog could sense people’s intentions. He liked Sullivan, and Sullivan seemed...well, not harmful.
I picked up my phone and texted Bobby. He’d be on call. Or asleep. Either way, I didn’t care. I missed him horribly all of a sudden.
Hey there. Alone in my new place. It’s gorgeous. Houseboat, wicked cool. Very quiet here.
A second later, three waving dots appeared. He was awake and answering, thank God. You doing okay?
A little freaked out, I typed.
You’re safe, sweetheart. I’m right here at the other end of the line.
Tears of gratitude rushed my eyes. He knew. Of course, he did. There are no lines with cell phones but thanks.
Another message from him popped up. Want to talk a little?
Thx. Anything new at the hospital?
A second later, his message appeared. Had a guy come in carrying his own arm. That was pretty cool.
Me: Did Ortho reattach?
Bobby: No, too much damage. Quite a sight, tho.
Me: I bet.
Him: Everyone misses you.
That was nice. That was good to hear.
Tell them I said hi, Maine is beautiful, I have an extra bedroom and can buy lobster fresh off the boat. Lily gets out August 5, so once I see her, I’ll head back to Beantown.
There was a longer pause. Was Jabrielle with him? Were they a couple now? Was she lying in bed next to him, naked and irritable that his ex-girlfriend was disturbing her sleep?