Elle sat on the sofa trying to concentrate on the book in front of her. It was impossible, the words swimming on the page as her mind ran away with her, wondering about Locke, where he was.

If he was safe.

They’d had dinner in town before he left, and she’d made a point to ask questions about his approach to Glover’s estate, not wanting him to feel like he had to downplay the mission. They couldn’t hide from that part of his life.

She couldn’t hide from it.

Loving him meant embracing all of him, and while she wasn’t exactly enjoying this first taste of worry, she would have to make peace with it.

She’d given him a long kiss by the jeep before he left. It was her only nod to the potential danger, and she’d forced herself to keep her expression placid, her voice steady. Then she’d gone into the house and poured herself a big glass of wine.

She’d called her mother to pass the time and had been happy to hear the joy in her voice. Her mom found only good memories in working at the store. She’d downplayed the day’s slow revenue, focusing instead on the fact that Abby and her father had come in to choose a new book. Elle considered it a small victory. There was no guarantee they would avoid Bolton’s, but at least their awkward encounter outside the superstore hadn’t soured them on Matheson and Matheson.

She was still thinking about the conversation with her mom when her cell phone rang from the coffee table. She sat up so quickly her book slid to the floor and reached for the phone, half-expecting it to be Locke.

She was surprised to see her brother’s name and face appear on the screen. She picked it up quickly when she realized it was him. Her brother could be anywhere, and his phone service could give out in a heartbeat.

“Patrick!” she said into the phone. “Hey!”

“Hey, yourself!” His voice was warm and familiar. “What’s up, sis?”

She laughed, then stood and walked onto the terrace where she could see the Pacific stretched out in the moonlight. “What’s up? More like where are you and when are you coming home?”

“I’m still in Iceland,” he said. “I think I’m going to stay put for awhile actually. It’s amazing here.”

“It looks like it.” She’d been following his pictures on Instagram as he worked his way around the world. At first he’d relied on his savings, but eventually he’d developed a network of contacts that provided him with work when he needed it. He’d supported his travels by working on an olive farm in Greece, tending bar in Dublin, and giving private English lessons in Japan, among other things. “The pictures are amazing.”

“It’s better in person,” he said. “You should totally meet up with me.”

He’d made the offer before, but she’d been too focused on getting the store up and running, and then on keeping it up and running, to take the offer seriously. Now there was Locke to consider, and she found she had no desire to be anywhere but with him. Maybe they would both go someday.

“Actually I’m in Mexico right now,” she said.

It was as good a segue as any into the fact that Locke was back in her life, and she had no intention of lying to Patrick about it, not even by omission.

“Mexico!” She could hear his smile through the phone and she had a sudden image of him as a pudgy three-year-old, following her around the original Matheson and Matheson, getting into things and being a pest. “That’s awesome. What are you doing there?”

She hesitated. “You’re not going to believe me when I tell you.”

“Try me.”

She drew in a breath. “I’m with Lachlan Hunt.”

She winced into the long pause. She had no idea how Patrick would react to the news. He’d loved Lachlan when Elle had been in college, had looked up to him like the older brother he’d never had. The knowledge that Lachlan’s parents were behind Hathaway Holding had been painful, and after their father died, Patrick had shut down completely. He’d remained distant as he finished college and six months later had announced that he was leaving the country. She’d only seen him a handful of times since.

“Lachlan…” She could hear his conflicting emotions across the miles. “Wow.”

“Yeah… he goes by Locke now actually,” she said, as if the new name meant he wasn’t the same person whose family had destroyed theirs. As if he wasn’t the same person who had lied to her about it.

“How did that happen?” he asked.

“It was kind of random,” she said. “We just bumped into each other on the street.”

“So you’re back together?” Patrick asked.

“Yeah, I think we are,” she said.

I don’t know how I lived without him. I don’t know how I breathed.

“Are you happy?”

The question took her by surprise, but answering it was a no-brainer.

“Very,” she said. “I didn’t know how I felt about it at first, but everything just felt so… easy. It’s like no time has passed at all.”

“He’s rich now, right?” Patrick asked.

She laughed, taking in the house around her. “You could say that.”

“I’m happy for you, Elle,” he said. “Really.”

She smiled into the phone. “Because he’s rich?”

“No, dummy,” he said. “Because you never stopped loving him, and because what happened was as shitty for him as it was for us.”

“I think you’re right.” The evidence was all around her: in the work Locke chose at tremendous risk to himself, in the laws he broke even when she knew he believed in things like right and wrong, in the care with which he chose his targets and the fact that his goal was always to make amends to the innocent. “So you’re okay with it?”

“It’s not what I expected,” he said.

“But?”

He hesitated. “You now that big backpack I had when I first left?”

She shook her head, surprised by the detour. “How could I forget? You couldn’t even close the zipper all the way it was so stuffed.”

He laughed. “Exactly. I was worried I would need something and regret not packing it, so I packed everything.”

“And?”

“And two months later it was half-empty.”

“Because you’d gone through all the stuff you’d packed?” she asked, trying to follow his train of thought.

“Because I realized I didn’t need all that shit.” He laughed, then grew quiet. “Seriously, if it’s one thing I’ve learned hauling my shit around the world it’s that baggage just weighs you down. If you’ve found a way to let it go, I’m happy for you.”

She smiled into the phone. “Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me,” he said. “Just be happy. You deserve it. And you know what?”

“What?”

“I think Lachlan deserves it, too.”

She wondered if Patrick would still believe it if he knew about Locke’s brand of vigilante justice. It only took her a few seconds to come to the conclusion that he would. She would never be able to tell him, but she knew her brother almost as well as she knew herself. Her belief would have to be enough.

“I think you’re right.” She took a deep breath and switched gears. “Now tell me when you’re coming home!”

He laughed. “I don’t know, but you know I’m always here if you need me.”

“Same.”

Muffled voices sounded from the other end of the phone. There was a moment of confusion as Patrick said something to someone nearby.

“I have to go, Elle, but I’ll try to call again soon.”

“Sounds good,” she said. “Don’t forget to call Mom, too.”

He laughed. “I talk to Mom at least once a week.”

“You do?” She shouldn’t have been surprised. Her mother and Patrick had always been close.

“I do. Gotta go! Love you, Elle.”

“I love you, too. Be safe.”

Then he was gone. She imagined him in a bar in Iceland, surrounded by friends he’d met along the way, fellow wanderers looking for answers in the unfamiliar. She hoped they found them.

Her gaze snagged on movement at the perimeter of the property where the cliff leading to the beach began. She peered through the darkness and realized it was one of the new guards that had arrived earlier that evening. Locke insisted, and she had to admit that while they’d maintained a low profile, she was comforted by their presence. Malcolm Glover was just a man. There was no way he could know he’d been targeted by Locke. No way to know she was part of Locke’s life and staying less than two hours from his estate outside of Cancun.

But the extra precautions couldn’t hurt.