Julia
Sleep evaded me, regardless of how exhausted I was. I wasn’t sure if it was because I missed Lachlan, because of everything Agent Curran had shared, or because of Wes’ fears that we were missing some crucial piece in this convoluted puzzle. Perhaps a combination of all three.
After hours of trying and failing to fall asleep, I slipped out of bed and padded down to the kitchen to make some tea, hoping that would help.
But as I walked into the kitchen, I paused when I saw Nikko sitting at the island, the glow from the laptop in front of him illuminating his face.
“Trouble sleeping?” I asked.
He looked my way. “More like my body’s still on island time. It’s nearly five in the morning here. Not quite midnight on Oahu.”
“So you’re a night owl then?” I asked as I walked toward the stove and grabbed the kettle, filling it with water.
“I suppose I’m whatever I need to be at the moment.”
I lit the burner, then leaned against the counter, crossing my arms in front of my chest. “You should try to get some sleep, though. If you don’t, you’ll be exhausted all day. Unless you’re planning on heading home once Lachlan gets back.” I glanced at the clock on the microwave. “Which should be any minute now, since he hopped on a red-eye instead of flying home with the team in the morning.”
“I’m not leaving until I can be assured no harm will come to you or your daughter. No matter how long that takes.”
“Thank you. For being here. And spending time in the gym with Imogene today. It means a lot.”
“She’s a good kid. No wonder Lachlan loves her so much. She’s a lot like he was at her age. Strong-willed and a bit of a hothead.”
I laughed. “That’s most definitely Imogene.”
“And that was Pohili back then, too. After his father passed away, he had some…anger issues.”
“How did he die?”
Nikko hesitated, seemingly unsure what to tell me. I doubted Lachlan kept it from me for a reason. It simply never came up during conversation. There was enough tragedy in our present. No need to dig up more heartache from the past.
“Heart attack. Lachlan was only thirteen. Claire a year younger.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. How old was his father? He couldn’t have been that old.”
“Actually, he was in his sixties.”
“He was?” My eyes widened as I did the math. If he was in his sixties when he died, he had to be in his late forties or early fifties when Lachlan was born.
“His mother married an older man. Her parents didn’t like it at first. Not only because of the age difference, but also because his mom was a native islander and his father was a white man from Australia. And when I say he was white, I’m talking blond hair, blue eyes, pasty white skin that would turn bright red if exposed to the sun for even a few minutes.”
“I know all too well how that is,” I laughed under my breath, considering I suffered from the same problem.
When the kettle whistled, I removed it from the burner, poured some water into a cup, then added a bag of green tea. “Would you like some?”
“That would be nice. Thank you.”
“Green tea okay?” I grabbed another cup and saucer from the cupboard.
“Perfect.”
“Milk? Honey? Sugar?”
“Nothing for me. Just plain.”
“You got it.”
I finished preparing both cups, then placed them on the island before scooting around to the other side, hoisting myself onto the barstool beside him.