Page 27 of Rebel

I nodded toward it.“Meaning behind that?”

For a moment, I thought she wouldn’t answer.Her fingers curled around her wrist, covering the mark.

“Had a sister once.Her name was Blossom,” she finally said.

I nodded, not pushing for more.Some truths were like wild animals -- approach them too directly and they’d bolt.Shade hadn’t mentioned a sister.I wasn’t sure if it was a biological one, or maybe one she’d met in foster care after her mom died.It wouldn’t do me any favors to tell her everything I’d learned about her through Shade’s abilities.I needed to hear it all in her words in her own time.

We finished eating as the tide began to rise, waves creeping closer to the stilts beneath us.The rhythmic sound formed a backdrop to our silence, comfortable now rather than wary.Rio leaned back in her chair, one hand resting on the table while the other held her beer.It was the most relaxed I’d seen her.

The moment felt balanced -- not tense, but not fragile either.Like finding perfect equilibrium on a turn, that split second where everything aligns exactly right.Push too hard in any direction and you’d lose it.So I just let it be, storing the memory of her face in that rare moment of peace.

The old fishermen paid their tabs and left, nodding to us as they passed.The net-mender had vanished without me noticing.

“Thank you,” Rio said suddenly, her voice quiet but clear.“For this.”She gestured vaguely at the remains of our meal, but I understood she meant more than just the food.

I nodded once.“Anytime.”

She smiled then, a real one that reached her eyes and transformed her face.It was brief -- there and gone -- but genuine.More valuable for its rarity.

We’d have to leave soon, head back before traffic got bad.But for now, I was content to sit across from this woman with her warrior’s eyes and rare smile.

The last oyster shell sat empty between us, trails of butter and hot sauce drying on the newspaper.Rio had one hand on the table beside mine.Close enough that I could feel the heat from her skin, but not touching.That moment of almost-contact felt more intimate than if she’d grabbed my hand.Like a decision being weighed.Neither of us spoke.We didn’t need to.

Rio’s eyes had lost their constant vigilance, focused now on the water.Her breathing had slowed, matching the cadence of the surf.

My phone shattered it all.

The harsh electronic ring cut through our bubble of peace.Rio’s hand jerked back instantly, her body tensing as if the sound itself might be a threat.I pulled the phone from my pocket, ready to silence it and deal with whoever it was later.

Then I saw Shade’s name on the screen.

Shade didn’t call unless it mattered.More importantly, he didn’t call when I was off the grid unless something had gone seriously wrong.The relaxation of the past hour evaporated.

I met Rio’s now-alert eyes.“Need to take this.”

She nodded once, already scanning the room, the exits, the other patrons.Back to soldier mode in the space of a heartbeat.

I swiped to answer.“What’s up?”

“Where are you?”Shade’s voice had the clipped precision he used when time was a factor.

“Coastal road.That seafood place with the stilts.”I kept my tone neutral, giving nothing away to Rio, who watched me with narrowed eyes.

“How fast can you get back?”Shade didn’t waste words on niceties.

“Forty-five minutes if we push it.Why?”

The line went silent for a beat.Bad sign.Shade only paused when he was deciding how much to say over an open line.

“Those men Rio mentioned.”His voice dropped lower.

My fingers tightened around the phone.“What about them?”

“They’re in town.”Shade’s typing created a backdrop to his words.“Showed up atThe Rusty Nailabout an hour ago, asking questions.Vince called it in.”

“What kind of questions?”I turned slightly away from Rio, but I could feel her attention like a physical weight.

“About a strawberry blonde matching Rio’s description.Said she was their friend, they’d lost touch after the Army.”More typing.“Vince stalled them, said he might’ve seen her a few days ago, but she looked to be heading out of town.”

---