“What happened to him?” I asked.

She let out a shallow sigh. “Two years later, it all went to hell and we had to disappear without saying goodbye. I wanted to call him or send him a letter so he knew I was okay, but my mom told me I couldn’t because it was too dangerous. As the years went on, I guess finding him seemed to be less of a priority. I mean, I’m still not supposed to tell anyone who I really am, so it’s not like I could have called him up and said, ‘Hey, it’s Fi. Let’s go climb a tree.’” She smiled before her expression turned serious. “And now I think he’s in trouble.”

“What do you mean? You said you haven’t talked to him.”

“I haven’t,” she said. “While you were gone, apparently your brother sent one of his guys to keep an eye on me and make sure everything was okay. Well, Wyatt…although I’m pretty sure that’s not his real name…noticed a car tailing me and looked into it. It was an FBI agent who works with Damian. He said he’s been on a leave of absence from the FBI for nearly four months, but this agent thinks he’s missing.” She glanced at me as I did the math in my head, noticing my expression. “Exactly. The timing fits all this craziness a bit too perfectly. It could just be a coincidence, but if his FBI buddy thinks something’s not right and he’s in trouble…”

I stared ahead and thought about what she just told me. I no longer believed in coincidences, particularly where Mackenzie was concerned. “Do you want me to see if I can find him?”

Her eyes widened. “You would do that?”

“Sure,” I said. I would do anything for her. “We’ll at least follow-up with this FBI agent and see what he knows. Maybe if I take what I know and what he knows, I’ll be able to figure it out. Don’t worry. I’m sure he’s fine. I’ve worked with all kinds of federal agents. The job has a high burn-out rate. It’s not uncommon for someone to take a lengthy leave of absence to clear their head and recharge their batteries. I’m sure that’s all your friend is doing.”

She nodded and reached for my hand, grabbing it. “Thanks, Tyler.”

I remained still, praying she wouldn’t break the contact. All my focus was devoted solely to the heat of her skin on mine. It was beautiful, perfect, simple, yet more satisfying than I could possibly put into words. Her fingers intertwined with mine and she inched closer to me, the connection growing stronger as a gentle breeze wrapped around us. The silence wasn’t awkward like it was when I first came outside. Her anger had subsided and I was able to feel Mackenzie again…her heart, her spirit, her soul.

“Tell me a secret,” she murmured.

“A secret?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Her voice was sleepy and I could sense she was relaxed. “You know all mine. It’s only fair I know some of yours.”

“I want you to know all of mine,” I said gently.

She pulled away from me and searched my eyes. “Really? Even if I may not like them?”

“I meant what I said, Mackenzie. I want to start over again. I want you to know everything about me. I want you to know my darkness and my light. Love is all about sharing a piece of yourself with another human and I want to share all of me with you. If you don’t like what I’ve been hiding, well… That’s a risk I have to take. My top priority is complete honesty with you.”

She studied me as if trying to determine if she could believe my words. Apparently satisfied, she nodded slightly and rearranged her body, lying down and placing her head on my lap. I stroked her hair, gently massaging her scalp, and she closed her eyes.

“So, tell me a secret, Tyler.”

“What kind of secret do you want to know?”

“Something you’ve never told anyone else. Something you swore you would never tell another living soul.”

I stared at the sky, my fingers continuing to caress her hair.

“I still have that nightmare,” I whispered.

“The one where you’re treading water in a well?” She opened her eyes, looking at me. I nodded.

“When I was a little boy, I was scared to fall asleep most nights because of that dream. When it continued, Ma sent me to a shrink. The doctor did everything she could to try and get into my subconscious to figure out what it was.”

“But she couldn’t, could she?”

“No.” I shook my head. “Not right away. It got so bad, I couldn’t even take a shower, scared I would drown. We had tried to deal with what was going on without medication but, after a few months, my parents didn’t see any other option. Still, the medication didn’t take the nightmares away. I was convinced I was being punished for something. For what? I didn’t know.”

“Did you figure it out?”

Swallowing hard, I said, “Yes…after several years. My therapist tried different and somewhat controversial techniques, convinced there was something in my subconscious that was causing the nightmares and anxiety. It didn’t make sense to me. If it was a traumatic event, I would have remembered what it was. People don’t just forget things, right? But my dad was a combat vet and had seen stuff like that first-hand.”

“What caused it?”

My heart thumped in my chest and I stared down into her eyes, intrigue and compassion covering her expression. She reached up and cupped my cheek in her hand, the contact comforting me.

“It’s okay,” she said.

“The first few years of my life, I lived in Connecticut. Did I ever tell you that?”

“You may have mentioned it.”

I grabbed her hand in mine, finding peace in her support. “We lived in Mystic. It’s on the shore, an old seaport. My family was well-off and lived in a beautiful estate on the river that was a captain’s house during the nineteenth century. I spent my summer days playing with friends and causing trouble. One day, this green pick-up truck drove up to us. The driver rolled the window down and called out to my friend, Craig. We couldn’t have been more than seven or eight at the time. Craig didn’t recognize the guy, but the man said he was his uncle, that there was an accident and he had been sent to take him to the hospital to see his parents. When he heard that, Craig jumped in the car without hesitation, although something didn’t seem right to me. Growing up, your parents always tell you never talk to strangers, and that’s all good in theory, but when you think something horrible has happened to the only family you have, all sense of rationale and reason gets tossed out the window, doesn’t it?”

I could feel Mackenzie nod in agreement, although I didn’t see it. My eyes were closed, the scene of that moment in time playing out in front of me.

“There was a statewide search for Craig. His photo was flashed on the television, plastered on phone poles, printed in every newspaper. I remember asking my mom where his ‘uncle’ took him. I could only imagine how difficult it was for her to explain to me that his uncle didn’t take him. The weeks went on, the summer ended, and we went back to school. A desk in our classroom was left open for Craig in the hopes he’d come back.

“September in Connecticut could still be warm and, after school on a particularly hot day, a few of us decided to go for a swim in the river. There was a little alcove beneath a bridge we would always go to. I was the first to take a running leap, cannonballing into the water. I remember opening my eyes, swearing I felt a hand grab onto my leg.” I paused, needing a moment to collect myself. I had never shared the intricate details of that experience with anyone before, except for my therapist and parents years ago.

“What did you see?” Mackenzie asked softly.

“Craig’s body. His face was bloated and there were bruises all over him, but I knew it was him. I tried to get out of the river as fast as possible. In my head, I was treading water for an eternity, calling for help. In reality, it was probably only a matter of seconds. I felt helpless, like if I didn’t call someone that second, Craig would die, even though I knew he was already dead. I don’t remember what happened after that, but that night was the first time I had the nightmare.”