I force the smirk into place. “Hello to you, too, buddy.” I lock the front door behind me.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“Nothing.” I drop my keys onto the bench like I’ve done countless times over the years and kick off my shoes.
“Where’s Declan?” he asks.
“I asked him to wait at my place for a while.”
I don’t sense any irritation, just confusion. “Oookaaay?”
“I want to talk.” I stand there, trying to figure out how to wade into this story.
“Are you going to come in so we can, or are you going to stand there scaring the crap out of me that you’re about to yank a rug out from under me?”
The two of them, Declan and George, are nearly identical in some ways, they really are.
Like this way.
They know me too well in some senses, and not at all in others.
I walk down the hall and stand in front of him. He’s barefoot, and took off his blazer and tie, but he’s still wearing his button-down, the top two buttons unfastened and his sleeves rolled up his forearms.
I remember after his return how we had to go shopping for a new suit for him before the memorial. How I paid extra for immediate tailoring, because none of his suits fit him anymore. Then, at four weeks back, Ifinallyconvinced him to go suit shopping to replace his others because while he’d regained weight, his pants were still loose on him, but his shirts and jackets were already getting tight across the shoulders from his workouts.
He is a fucking gorgeous goddamned man, and he always has been.
I can barely say it aloud, but I force it out. “You know Declan really belongs toyounow, right?”
He sighs and his gaze drops to the floor for a long moment before he finally nods.
I think about all the nights in college he carried me inside from the car and gently laid me in my bed, patting the top of my head, gently rubbing my scalp before turning and leaving my room.
All the times he told me he was worried about me. How he begged me to talk to him, to confide in him.
How I desperately wished I could be Ellen and curl up in his arms and feel that complete, total sense of safety I knew she felt with him.
Something she couldn’t feel with me, by default. Not because of me, but because of her worry about what her family would think of her.
I couldn’t make my girl feel safe. Not really.
He could.
Declan does. Feels safe with him, I mean.
I’ve never felt safe like that in my entire life, and I’m envious as fucking hell.
I reach out and finger one of the buttons on the front of his shirt. “Before we have this talk, I need you to make me a promise.”
“Anything, Case,” he quietly says. “I’ll give you anything. Name it.”
I make myself look him in the eyes. “Promise me, no matter what, you’llalwaysprotecthim. Inallways. Physically, emotionally, professionally. That you’ll centerhimin your life the way you centered Ellen. Especially if you win. That you’ll take any incoming fire and protecthim, no matter what the cost to you—orme—politicallyorprofessionally.”
He lays his hand over mine, gently curling his fingers around me. “I promise, Case. He’llalwayscome first. And so will you.”
I shake my head. “No.Hecomes first.Always. If you’re ever forced to choose between protecting him or protecting me,promiseme, George.Swearto me. Swear to me that, even if it means sacrificing me, you’ll protecthim.”
The furrows in his brow deepen. “Why can’t I protect you both?”
