Accidental Shield (Marriage Mistake #6)(24)

She’s in the passenger seat when I climb in behind the wheel, handing her the shoes before starting the truck and hitting the garage door opener.

“So, where’d I run my turtle tours out of?” she asks once we’re on the asphalt. “Or was the whole thing a joke?”

Shit.

“Various beaches, mostly up the road,” I say, rather than admit I was straight up lying. “You want to see for yourself?”

She studies me for a second, then nods.

Fine. Letting her think sea turtles were her reality might help her from thinking too hard about her two-faced family.

There’s a private beach I know up on the North Shore. Always see plenty of turtles there flopped down on the sands, sunning themselves, so I head north once we hit the highway.

The road takes us further inland for a stretch, through the hills and valleys covered with green, lots of monkey pod trees and rainbow eucalyptus.

“Wow. Who could get tired of this landscape?” she asks, after we’ve been driving for a while. “The island has it all. Mountains, seashore, trees, and pretty flowers.”

She’s not wrong.

Having lived on the mainland and been stationed near Seattle at one point, I don’t consider the hills around here mountains, but everyone else does. She’s right, though, about there being nearly every landscape imaginable packed into Hawaiian clay—from mountains to beaches to arid, rocky areas, and everything in between.

Sans the fucking snow. Which, I swear to God, I still haven’t missed and never will.

My old man’s years in the service had us traveling from state to state, base to base, which is part of the reason I didn’t re-up after I’d done my time. Spending the better part of a decade doing my patriotic duty was enough.

Plus, I didn’t want Bryce turning into a nomad. Didn’t want him living in danger or wondering if I’d come home alive, either, which is partly why Cash and I dissolved our old security business. Cornaro was the other reason.

“We’re going to the North Shore, aren’t we?” she asks, perking up.

I unclench my teeth, chasing back dark memories, and turn with a smile. “Glad you noticed. There’s a great shrimp truck in Haleiwa.”

She nods. “I feel like I couldn’t forget it.”

No surprise. Everybody and their dog on Oahu knows about the food trucks up here. I’ll never get how the folks running them produce the masterpieces they do in such hot, cramped spaces, but damn if I don’t appreciate it.

My mouth starts watering, just thinking about that scampi. I consider asking her which shrimp is her favorite, but that’s something a husband should know by heart.

Instead, I say, “Think I’ll go with the classic garlic butter today.”

“Yum! That sounds good, but so does the lemony kind. Oh, and the spicy shrimp! Love, love, love a little heat. Don’t forget the rice and mac salad, too.”

For once, I grin. It’s nice to see all the classic Hawaiian flavors are still there in her brain.

“Can’t go wrong with any of them,” I say, realizing it’s not just classic North Shore fare, but their menu, specifically.

No cause for alarm. She’s known other things, obviously, like her aloha spirit spiel this morning.

Fucking weird. No rhyme or reason behind what she knows and doesn’t. I can only imagine how frustrating it is for her.

“You know, I’m good with any kind of shrimp, Flint, but promise me one thing?” She runs her hand to her stomach. “We’ll save room for the frozen cheesecake on a stick dipped in chocolate.”

I actually laugh. The malasadas should’ve been a big hint she’s got a sweet tooth to rival Santa Claus.

She frowns. “You know what’s weird? I love that cheesecake. It seems like the only things I don’t know, can’t remember, are so personal. Like the simple, easy stuff comes back faster. Is that how amnesia is?”

My tongue flicks against my teeth, assessing my choice of words. I can’t see any good relaying what Cash told me.

“Don’t know, Val,” I answer honestly. “It’s freaky shit. Cash said there’s plenty they still don’t know about how the human mind spins its hamsters in their wheels.”

She rolls her eyes. “So helpful. Wish I had my cell phone, I’d just Google it.”

The muscles in my neck tighten. The last thing she needs is to start Googling things on her own.

When I’d left this morning because we ran out of pain relievers and I thought she might need them after her sleepless night, I’d given her Bryce’s old phone. I’d bought him a new one a few months ago.

It only took a few minutes to wipe the data and install some new apps. The only number I’d programmed in was mine.

I also installed a logging app in the background to help me see what the hell she’s dredging up.

Yeah, yeah, dick move. Like I told Cash, this smoke and mirrors shit isn’t easy.

Part of me feels like a royal ass, keeping her from so much, but it’s all for her safety. I can’t risk her freaking out, finding out who she’s related to, and blabbing where she is.

That’s the lie I keep telling myself.

I swallow a sigh. When all this shit’s finally over, I’m gonna need a priest and a bartender to help get my morals sorted again.