“Do you miss it?”
“I’m proud of what I did, but I knew when it was time to step away.”
Kira nods. “And then you founded Sentinel Security?”
“More or less. The three of us got out at different times and eventually drifted back together. We bought this land and built what we needed. Work gave us purpose.” I rub the back of my neck. “Still does.”
She continues to look thoughtful. “Makes sense.”
“What we do now isn’t combat, but our skills carry over.”
We sit and drink in silence for a few minutes until the energy shifts and Kira fidgets, changing position. “Atlas … I’ve noticed you wear a wedding band.”
I stiffen, then force myself to take a breath and exhale. “My wife’s name was Sarah.” Saying her name aloud is both warm and painful at the same time. “I met her at one of Sentinel’s first clients, a nonprofit in the city. Shortly after our fifth wedding anniversary, she collapsed during a hike.”
Kira’s hand goes to her mouth. Her eyes pinch in sympathy. “I’m so sorry. What happened?”
“She had a heart issue we had no idea about, until it was too late.”
Kira’s voice is a whisper when she speaks again. “Were you with her when it happened?”
I lock down that part of my brain, refusing to let the images of that morning replay, but a few break through anyway. I swallow down the pain, grateful for its bitter taste. “Yeah.”
Kira sets her mug on the coffee table and slides across the couch to where she can reach me. She squeezes my forearm and lets her hand rest there. “I’m so sorry, Atlas.”
I mumble thanks, biting back the objections I want to voice. I don’t deserve the sympathy.I failed Sarah. I couldn’t save her. I couldn’t protect the person who mattered most.
Grizz and Viper have argued with me about the guilt many times. They say sometimes there are situations where nothing can be done, no matter how prepared you are.
I understand the logic. Believing it is another matter.
After a minute of companionable silence, Kira’s hand still on my arm, she gives another squeeze and pulls away. “What was she like, if you don’t mind talking about her?” Her voice is gentle, nearly a whisper.
I’m always glad to talk about Sarah, even though it hurts. “She was kind. Brave. Smarter than me by a mile.”
“I can’t imagine how hard it must have been to lose her.”
“Work keeps me going. Provides structure. Purpose.”
Kira nods her head. “I understand wanting structure. Maybe because of my mom dying, I’ve always grabbed onto whatever seemed stable. Preston seemed solid and safe when we first dated.”
Hearing the man’s name makes me tense.
“When I found out I was pregnant, he proposed right away.” Kira’s hand goes to her stomach. “He said he wanted to do the right thing, but he rushed the wedding with the hope I wouldn’t be showing yet. He said he needed to ‘keep things clean’ for his image.”
“That’s not a proposal. That’s strategy.”
“I know, but I didn’t see it at the time. Or maybe I didn’t want to.”
She’s been full of sympathy for me, but her story makes me sad. A young woman as vibrant and beautiful as Kira deserves romance. She deserves a man who’ll move heaven and earth for her, not someone who expects her to fit into his life in the ways he wants.
The room goes quiet again, with only the fire occasionally crackling. A log shifts. The clock on the wall, another of Grizz’s handiworks, ticks into the silence.
Kira’s still resting her hand on her stomach when suddenly, a smile spreads across her face. “I’m starting to feel the babysometimes,” she says.
“Really?” The baby can’t be very big. Her pregnancy is barely visible.
“Little flutters.” She glances at me. “They’re faint, but they’re unmistakable.”
