“Can’t do it, Chief.” Tears are streaming down Liam’s face. “I gotta take a minute and rejoice. Ty is allgrowedup and wreaking havoc as seamlessly as I ever have. I’m just so damn proud. Plus, it’s a rare fucking day that I’m not the one you’re going all Chief on.”
That was the wrong thing to say. Wells is unamused. His temple is visibly throbbing. It’s a gift to me though. Sitting here quietly is a winning strategy because Liam will end up poking the bear and taking the heat upon himself. As if that same thought occurs to Gage, he bobs his head at me on his way back to assist Ivy, right as Celeste drops her eyes and smirks knowingly.
Wells finally hauls his attention back to me. “What do you have to say?”
Denying my culpability or apologizing for it will piss him off, so I don’t do either. Instead, I venture into an even greater concern that needs addressed. “I will double back to my reasoning for all the shit mentioned in a moment. But first things first. Let’s get one thing straight, Wells. That is my wife you are talking about. And she’ll be treated with respect even if she’s not in the damn room. So, there’s no discussion with any of you regarding mefuckingher.And after this, there will not be one word uttered that makes her feel unwelcome, frightened, or like a goddamn burden. Keep her separate from the shitstorm.”
For a beat, no one makes a sound. The exhaust fan on the stove hood is suddenly deafening, drowning movements and breaths and responses as the room spins around me.
Felicity squawks, and Wells smiles, but his gaze is glued to me, his green eyes glistening with what appears to be pride.
He saunters toward me and grips the back of my neck, so I stand to meet him eye to eye, and he drags me into a hug, smacking my back. “We love you both, Ty. I’m not going to pretend it didn’t hurt to miss this because … well … it’s been a rough road, and I would’ve liked to be here, to support you, to celebrate this. But you happy, connected to a woman who will love you well … We’ll figure this out.”
Here’s the scoop on Wells and me. When I was in the Navy, one of my superiors felt my past was psychologically damaging and insisted I see a counselor. Suicide rates were high in the Military, and they weren’t willing to take any chances with a guy who’d endured all I had. It was evident that my trauma scared the shit out of most of them. Eventually, the counselor suggested I be assigned to Chief Folsom—Wells’s name at the time—because apparently, he was some sort of orphan or messed-up-childhood whisperer.
She wasn’t wrong. After our first one-on-one conversation, I knew he’d be more than just my commander. He made me his familywhen I had none. Understood the loss because his entire family had died in a tornado. And dedicated his spare moments to building me up, making me stronger, ensuring me I’d never be alone.
He asked me once why I’d joined the Navy, and when I told him it was because I wanted to be somewhere that I wouldn’t go to jail for killing people, he simply cocked his head and said, “You came to the right place.”
Not once did he pity me like others had. And he never batted an eye at the demons I harbored.
But he feels like he’s failing when I spiral.
There’s no doubt in my mind that he is beyond irate over how I handled this, but true to form, he pushes that all aside to celebrate the good. For me. It all wrenches my gut. I considered how Rena was feeling without her brothers and how much it would pain them to miss it, but I was so anxious, so in the zone of protecting her, that it didn’t occur to me how hurt my family would be to miss our nuptials.
So, I respond with the one sentence that will help Wells understand without issuing an apology he’d abhor. “Waiting means loss, Chief.”
He pulls back and studies my face, nodding in agreement and so choked up. Fatherhood has done a number on him, or maybe it’s just Ivy. He’s also aware of the torment laced through those words. Witnessed it. Held it.
When he releases me, the room erupts into a cacophony of cheers. This is far from over, but the tension is broken. They all rush for me, enfolding me in hugs and congratulations and a blanket of warmth and acceptance. The Navy wasn’t out of line with their assessment of my well-being all those years ago. Without the people in this room, I’d have undoubtedly chosen to join my mom and sisters.
Ivy serves up lunch—paninis and fries—and we all sit at the kitchen table to hash this out. I walk them through most of the details from the last couple of days—which feels far more like weeks. Even last night, when Rena protested the marriage based on us only being together three days, it felt off. Maybe because she’d been minein one way or another for years, and we’d been dancing around the idea of it being more for weeks—since that day at La Lune Noire when, in my drunken state, I couldn’t stay away. So much has been packed into these few fleeting days together too.
Once I’m finished, the questions fly.
“What made Noire so pissed that she took off on you that night, and how the fuck did she disarm the security system without you waking?” Liam asks between bites, sliding a slice of bacon out of his sandwich to indulge in it separately.
One of the details I omitted was the blow-job escape plan because that shit is embarrassing. So, I deflect. “She was upset because there was obviously something happening between us, but I was keeping my dick in my pants, as ordered, and insisting that we reach out to her brothers. I took a hit off her joint, which left me groggy, and went to bed, and she texted with the girls.”
That’s a little shitty of me, but I saw that thread, and they encouraged Rena to make me chase her. No doubt that what she did is not what they’d had in mind, but they can absorb some of this heat all the same.
Wells glances between Ivy and Celeste while Gage and Liam chuckle, knowing I threw the girls under the bus, but they would’ve done the same. I learned my shady diversion techniques from the best.
“So, spill it,” Wells demands. “What the hell happened in the texts?”
Ivy takes that one, skin pink in indignation, jaw set. “We commiserated with her because men are sometimes dense. That is all.”
I laugh, admiring her uncanny ability to throw back whatever is shoved her way. “Thanks, Freckles.”
Celeste sighs and shrugs a nonchalant shoulder. “I may have suggested she make Ty work for her, and I stand by that. It did, in fact, pay off. But neither of us told her to run out on him.”
Liam chuckles, eyeing his wife. “Showing all your cards, Ace.”
“That’s true. Neither of them told her to do that. But I can’t blame her, and it’s not important anyway.” I push my plate asideand wipe my hands. “All that matters is that she did take off and I couldn’t breathe.”
That’s all the explanation they need for why I made my decisions.
“The Noires will be here tonight,” Wells informs, and my head pounds as he voices my inner thoughts. “That’s going to be a fucking disaster. Axel will be explosive … hell, Ryker too. Worse. They will not take kindly to you finding her, hiding her, marrying her, and claiming her without a word to them. Which brings us to KORT and this goddamn—”
