I drove alongside the ocean to meet Marisol for coffee. I hadn’t told her yet about my deal with Grady because I didn’t want to deal with her negativity. She would no doubt be apprehensive about me heading to some mystery cabin with some dangerous Marine I barely knew. I also couldn’t risk details of my agreement with Grady being leaked to the press. I refused to do anything to jeopardize my dad’s book deal. But I needed to confide in someone, and despite her tendency to gossip, I did trust her.

I sat at Bird Rock Coffee in La Jolla, people-watching through my dark sunglasses. Young mothers dressed in their Lululemon leggings strolled by pushing their kids in BOB strollers. Businessmen dressed in surf clothes and Reef sandals held meetings on their laptops.

When I’d left Grady’s place and the fog of lust disappeared, I was livid. How dare he demand sex in exchange for letting my dad write his book? But I’d since calmed down and attempted to see it from his perspective. We’d hooked up, I’d stolen his bullet and left. When I’d finally contacted him, it was to ask for a favor. I secretly hoped his demands would be for more than just sex, that he wanted to get to know me. I guess I would know soon enough.

Marisol finally showed up, fifteen minutes late as usual. We hugged and took our place in line to order our lattes. Since there was nowhere to sit at the café, we took our drinks down to Calumet Park, a little area that overlooked the ocean and sat on a small cement bench.

I sipped my drink, the nutty macadamia flavor transporting me back to Hawaii. Last time I’d been on the island was for a Dancing under the Stars tour, only months before my mother died. And now, I’d be attending the ball there with Grady.

“So, girl, what’s up? What’s so urgent?”

“Not much, just studying for the GRE. You?”

She sipped her beverage. “Oh, just spending time with Paloma and working at my dad’s restaurant trying to save up money.”

Marisol definitely liked to have a good time, but that girl worked harder than anyone I’d ever met. She didn’t even learn English until she was six years old, and she graduated top of her class in high school. In order to pay for college and medical school, she’d joined the Navy ROTC program. A year later, she found out she was pregnant. After she graduated from undergrad and medical school, she would serve in the Navy.

“Did I ever tell you how cool I think you are to join the Navy?”

She gave me the side eye. “Is this about Grady again? Are you still thinking about him?”

She knew me too well. “Yes, actually it is. I saw him again. Well, I wrote him first. And I’m going to visit him in Tahoe next weekend.”

Her eyes widened and her long lashes blinked. “You’re kidding me. Why did you write him?”

Marisol knew everything about my mom, my father, and me. I could tell her what was really going on. “The truth is my dad is in debt, going to lose our house.” I paused. “Don’t tell anyone, but he stole my tuition money trying to stop the bank from foreclosing.”

“He stole from you? Damn, chica. I know he’s your dad, but that’s straight fucked up.”

“I know. I’m pissed. But it’s in the past—getting mad isn’t going to bring the money back. What could I do? Press charges?”

“Uh, yeah. He should figure this out, not you. Why do you have to always clean up everyone’s messes?”

Good question. “That’s not the point. I don’t want to lose the house either.”

“Fine, but what does this have to do with going to Lake Tahoe with Grady? Oh my God! Did you hook up with him again?”

“Uh. . .yeah. I can’t help myself when I’m around him. He’s so sexy—like electric. I actually asked Grady to let my dad write his memoir. He said yes—if I went to Lake Tahoe and the ball with him.”

Marisol grabbed my shoulder. “And you agreed? Are you nuts? Are you forgetting the fact that this dude had a flashback at the party, threw you to the ground, and then you found a loaded gun at his house? I’ve been around some of these PTSD vets at the VA, and some of them are nuts.”

She had excellent points.

“I’ve thought this out. I even admitted to him that I stole his bullet. But here’s the thing—I can’t stop thinking about him.”

A toddler boy played with his dog in the grass. I smiled at him, hoping his nanny hadn’t overheard our conversation. She seemed to be staring at me but maybe I was just being paranoid.

“I call bullshit, Isa. I don’t care how amazingly he fucked you, and believe me, I’m no saint. And I’m not judging you. But he’s dangerous. He’s unstable. He’s a recluse. So you go away with him, he fucks your brains out, you go to the ball with him, and your dad writes his book. Then what? You pretend you never met him? You’re playing with fire.”

“It’s more than that. I like him; he’s fascinating. I mean, what kind of guy throws himself on a grenade?”

“A crazy one. Dude’s got a death wish. If I saw a grenade, I’d run away.”

“Right. That’s the thing. He was willing to die to save his friends. He has to be a good man, just messed up.”

Mirasol pursed her lips. “I guess. And let’s be real . . . his scars don’t bother you at all?”

I gulped. “I mean, yeah, his scars are horrific. But it doesn’t matter. He’s still incredibly sexy.”

She downed the rest of her latte like it was a shot. “I know you admire him. But—and I don’t mean to be a bitch, honey—he’s not your mom. You can’t save him. After all the crap you’ve been through with your mom, you can’t be in a situation like that again. It wouldn’t be healthy. From what you told me, Grady needs help. Real help. I’m not saying that you guys could never find common ground, but I just don’t want you in danger.”

I turned my head away from her and stared out to the ocean, fixating on a rock with a bunch of brown pelicans perched on it. Marisol was right. I’d fought so hard to overcome my depression and fear, to stop blaming myself for not realizing my mom was hurting. But my healing came from within. Grady needed to find a way to live with his injuries and his memories. Playing house with him wouldn’t solve anything.