Page 23 of Shades of You (Calypso Key #4)

Chapter Twenty-Three

Brenna

As I turned the key in the ignition, the familiar rattle of my old sedan filled the air. I glanced at Hunter, his tall frame folded into the passenger seat, and couldn’t help the bubbly excitement that surged through me. “Ready for an adventure?”

“Never knew deer were an adventure,” Hunter replied, his voice as easy as his smile, the smile I’d seen more of this morning. He’d worked on a new case all day yesterday, so this was the first chance we’d had to be together since his get-together with Evan. Other than a quick text exchange telling me his catch session with his brother had gone really well, I’d let my curiosity simmer. But now I could detect a clear change in him, how his broad shoulders were more relaxed, his posture in the seat more at ease.

Soon, we left behind the familiarity of Dove Key as we headed toward Big Pine Key and our eventual destination—No Name Key. There was always something thrilling about searching for the elusive Key deer. No matter how many times I glimpsed the tiny creatures, I always loved it.

As we crossed onto No Name Key, Hunter let out a low whistle as he peered out the window at the expanding rows of houses and canals, the freshly paved roads. “Looks like progress is trying to swallow up this place too. I can’t believe how much this has changed.”

I nodded but couldn’t suppress my sly grin. “A lot of the Keys are getting developed, but I know some secret places that are still wild.”

He turned and laughed at me—actually laughed!—and winked at my innuendo. Steering the car off the main road and onto a sandy trail, I wound through dense, scrubby foliage. The car jostled over the uneven terrain, the undercarriage scraping ominously against a hidden rock.

“We should’ve brought my four-wheel-drive,” Hunter said, gripping the upper door grab as if bracing for impact. “Your little ride might not forgive you for this.”

“Ah, she’s tougher than she looks,” I shot back.

We bounced along the path, stirring up clouds of dust that clung to the rear window. Moments later, I eased the car to a stop, nestling it between two stunted trees whose branches were twisted together in solidarity against the encroaching development.

“We’re here,” I declared, killing the engine, which gave one last protesting shudder before falling silent.

Hunter’s gaze met mine, a spark of that bad-boy charm still flickering there. It was a look that said he was ready for whatever challenge lay ahead. A look that made my adventurous heart beat a little faster.

“Lead the way,” he said, popping open the door and unfolding himself from the car with the grace of a man who had spent years learning how to move efficiently.

We ventured into the thick of No Name Key, the calls of distant birds echoing over the soft rustling of leaves. Above us, sea grape trees with their broad, rounded leaves sheltered us from the glaring sun.

“Look at this,” I murmured, guiding Hunter’s gaze to the vibrant yellow petals of a beach sunflower thriving in the sandy soil. A green anole lizard flicked its red dewlap at us from a nearby rock.

“I forgot about this,” Hunter mused, his voice low as he panned his eyes around us. “How tenacious life is here in the Keys.”

As we walked farther into the wilderness, the sounds of civilization faded into the background, replaced by the gentle rustling of leaves and the occasional splash of water as we passed by a hidden creek. Hunter stooped to examine a delicate wild orchid tucked away in the shade, his expression one of quiet fascination.

We followed a narrow trail that wound its way through the thick foliage, where the air was heavy with the scent of saltwater and earth. As we rounded a bend in the path, a flash of movement caught my eye. I held out a hand to stop Hunter, my heart racing with anticipation. Ahead, a small group of Key deer grazed peacefully in a sun-dappled clearing. Their tiny, delicate frames moved gracefully as they nibbled on the sparse vegetation. My breath caught in my throat at the sight, a surge of joy and wonder filling me as I observed the rare and beautiful creatures.

Hunter stood beside me, his gaze fixed on the deer with a softness that mirrored my own awe. For a moment, we simply stood there, sharing this magical moment.

“Move quietly,” I said, tiptoeing in front of him and heading toward them. “If we’re quiet enough, we can get close.” I placed my steps with care, barely daring to breathe. But hearing nothing behind me, I scowled.

He’s not coming with me?

I’d thought he was as entranced as me, but maybe I was wrong. Unable to help the irritation flickering through me, I spun around with a huff.

And smashed right into a solid wall of hard, male flesh. I squeaked, a high-pitched sound that sent the deer bounding away.

“Dammit, Hunter!” I tried to scold him, but my annoyance melted as soon as I saw the surprise on his face.

“Sorry,” he said with a sheepish grin. “I wasn’t expecting you to stop like that. You need to hold your fist up and give me a little warning, okay?”

Several military and action movies flitted through my mind. Scenes where the characters had done exactly that to warn each other. “Oh,” I said, regaining my composure. “I didn’t realize you were such a ghost.” Which brought another realization. He’d been behind me, completely silent, the whole time. The man was contradiction after contradiction, all wrapped up in an intoxicating, utterly handsome bundle.

Hunter’s smile turned sly, and his dark eyes glinted with mischief. “It was part of my job to move quietly. Being light on my feet has its advantages, you know? Such as crashing into beautiful women.”

The humor in his tone was infectious, and I laughed. It was a reminder of how much we had both changed, yet the connection between us felt as warm as ever. “Guess you still have some bad-boy tricks up your sleeve,” I teased, and my heartbeat quickened at his proximity. His black shirt was sleeveless and showcased his huge, tattooed arms.

“Only the useful ones,” he said softly, and the way his gaze lingered on mine sent a clear message—that he’d picked up on my inventory of his assets.

We resumed our walk along the sandy path that wound through the scrubby habitat. Hunter joined me to walk alongside as the track widened, and above us, the cry of a lone osprey pierced the serene sky. The sound of waves grew louder as we headed toward the shore. Now that we’d scared off the deer, I searched for another topic and settled on the obvious. “How did it go with Evan? The catch session?”

A wide, unguarded smile broke across Hunter’s face, lighting up his eyes. “It was good. Better than good.” He kicked at a small shell on the path, sending it skittering into the brush. “I mean, there were a few moments when it felt like the old days.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. There was this one pitch…” His expression turned wistful for a second as he recounted a fastball Evan had thrown.

My heart unfurled at his obvious relief. As if with every word he spoke, Hunter was rebuilding the bridge between his present and the past he’d tried so hard to outrun. Which brought me to the other subject I’d wanted to broach since the day he’d walked back into my life. Now was the perfect time, though this topic was sure to eliminate the happy smile on his face.

As we passed through two stunted pine trees, we emerged onto a shelly, coarse beach. “Can I ask”—I paused to swallow before pressing on—“about that day with Evan. The diving accident. I’d like to hear your side if you’re okay talking about it.”

Sure enough, the smile plummeted off his chiseled face, and for a moment, I regretted asking. But that day was also an ordeal he needed to work through if he was ever to move past it. He nodded. “Yeah. Let’s sit down.”

We found a driftwood log that time and tides had smoothed, nestled on the fringe where beach met thicket. As we settled onto the sun-bleached wood, the rhythmic lapping of the gentle waves played a soothing, contrasting backdrop to the silence stretching between us. I held my breath, waiting for him to fill it with his truth.

“The whole thing was supposed to be a surprise for Evan. He was expecting to make his Major League debut that season.” Not looking at me, his fingers toyed with a splinter on the log. “I wanted to give him something special, you know? Something to show how damn proud I was.”

I studied his profile, the way his jaw tightened. There was so much love there, mixed with an ache that seemed to stretch across the years. “So I had this MVP trophy made at a local shop. Shiny and grand, just like Evan’s future was supposed to be.” A bitter laugh escaped him, and he finally met my eyes. They were filled with so many shades of regret. “I gave it to this guy I knew, Bruce, who did commercial diving, and we set up a plan. He was to place it in the deep room of the Benson wreck for me. Evan and I loved diving that thing, and I’d always wanted to enter the deep room at the stern. Bruce and I figured out the day he’d place the trophy, and I scheduled the trip on our backup boat, Indigo Heaven , for the following day with Evan. During the dive, I was going to present it to him. Like a secret celebration beneath the sea, just between us.”

The image painted itself in my mind—the two brothers, suspended in the silence of a wreck I’d dived many times myself, sharing a moment of triumph. It should have been perfect .

“But that’s not what happened,” Hunter said, his voice hushed and tight now.

The weight of those words hung heavy in the air between us. I felt it in my chest, a pressure that made it hard to breathe. The pain in Hunter’s expression was raw, and it cracked something open inside me—something warm and fierce. I reached for his hand, threading my fingers through his. Rough and calloused, they closed around mine with gentle strength.

“Hey,” I said softly, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I’m here for you.”

He turned his hand to clasp mine fully, his thumb brushing against my skin. His defenses eased to reveal the boy I once knew—the one who had both a shy, caring nature and a devil-may-care attitude. But I also saw the man he had become, the one multiple tragic experiences had shaped.

And with stunning clarity, I realized I was falling in love. Not with the boy from my memories or the idea of a second chance. I was falling for the real, flawed, incredible man in front of me.

“We reached the deep room… but the trophy wasn’t there.” Hunter’s voice held a note of bewilderment, even now. He lost himself in the memory, his free hand idly working a stick around his fingers as he stared at the horizon. “I looked everywhere, Brenna. It was supposed to be right there and easily visible. That deep room is over one hundred fifty feet down, so Bruce made a point to tell me our air would go quickly and we needed to grab the trophy and get back out. But all I found was empty space and the eerie, dark quiet of the wreck.”

“Then what?” I urged gently, my heart beating a steady, fast rhythm.

Hunter eased out a long sigh, still weaving the stick around his fingers. “I went deeper into the ship, thinking maybe Bruce had put it somewhere else. Hell, I don’t know what I thought. Evan followed. But the farther we went, the more twisted the corridors became. Before I knew it, we were lost.”

His eyes reflected the shadowed ocean depths where fear had once ruled. “Evan panicked, darting into another room to look for a way out. I might have been only eighteen years old, but I was the better diver. My brother’s life was in my hands, so I had to keep it together and get us out.”

Instinctively, I moved closer to him on our driftwood perch and pressed the length of my arm against his. I wanted to absorb some of his pain, to offer solace in the silent language of touch.

Hunter’s voice trembled slightly as he spoke, like he was diving back into that day with each word. “Finally, I saw a blue glow and we made it out of the ship. Except we were almost out of air and one hundred fifty feet below the surface. Evan… he just lost it. He took off for the surface.”

My stomach clenched at the thought of their desperation in the dark water. Evan was less than a year older than Hunter, part of the reason why they’d been so close. Both had been so young to have to face something so terrible.

“Of course, panicking at that depth can be deadly. I tried to catch him, to slow him down.” His hand clenched into a fist on his thigh, knuckles white. The stick broke and he tossed it onto the sand.

“Everything I knew about diving safety, all the rules, were screaming at me from inside my head. But none of that mattered. All I could think about was saving my brother. So I went up after him, as fast as I could. And then…”

Hunter paused to ease out a long sigh, almost a hiss. “I ran out of air. Nothing but locked pressure of an empty regulator in my mouth when I tried to breathe. I kept my cool, though. I had to. Evan was all that mattered.”

My breath caught as I envisioned him racing for the surface, lungs burning and heart pounding in the shadowy depths of the ocean. Silence enveloped us, the only sound the gentle waves against the shore. My heart no longer beat—it thundered and sweat broke out on my brow. “Oh my God. What happened next?”