“Because I won’teverlet you feel like you don’t have a choice. I won’t pressure you. Ican’tbecause I know how I can be. I have more than two decades of absolute certainty in me. More than twelve years in command. What happens with us…don’t misunderstand. I absolutelywillfight for us. But I’ll also fight for you. I’ll fight so that you always have a choice. So you always feel heard. Respected. By others, but especially by me.”
Mikayla’s eyes shine in the sunlight, and she offers me a smile. “Too good to be true. Again.” After another kiss that leaves me aching, my dick throbbing against my zipper, she slings the strap of her messenger bag over her shoulder and gets out of the SUV.
“Tell Trevor I can’t wait to meet him,” she says. “And don’t worry about me. I’ll lock myself in the lab and let you know when I’m done.”
And then she’s walking away, her ass swaying in ways that make me want to run after her, scoop her up in my arms, and bring her right back home. Our home.
But then Trev sends me a message with more expletives than anything else, and I thumb out a reply.
I’m five minutes away.
The ideaof having a painful conversation in a Dunkin’ Donuts doesn’t sit well with me, so as soon as I walk in and see Trev, I jerk my thumb towards the parking lot.
Coffee cup in hand, he follows, scowling the whole time. “What the fuck, man?” he says when I unlock the SUV.
“Just thought we should have this convo somewhere else.” I pull out my phone and text him Mik’s address. “It’s ten minutes away.”
“Austin.” The look on his face stops me cold. “Just tell me you’re all right.”
“I’m good, brother.” Smiling feels…odd. The last time we were together, we were both in such a bad place, I couldn’t imagine a world in which we’d both be anything approaching happy.
But under Trev’s worry, there’s a hint of contentment in his gaze, one I recognize. Because for the first time in my life, I feel it too. It’s love.
“Where are we going?” he asks as he fiddles with the key fob for his rental car.
“Mikayla’s house. She’s at the Smithsonian with Ronan parked outside. The kid’s pissed as hell we keep making him sit in a black SUV in this heat.” I offer Trev a wry smile. “But he’s grown up a lot since Venezuela.”
“He’s still an angry son of a bitch,” Trevor says.
There’s respect in his tone, though, and when we get to Mik’s house, he’s shed some of the frustration from the coffee shop.
“Nice place.” He scans up and down the street, then zeroes in on one of the trees lining her driveway. “Clive did a good job with the cameras.”
“I walked the whole property yesterday.” Unlocking the door, I step inside with my hand on the butt of my gun, but we’ve only been gone half an hour, and I know without a doubt Trev’s carrying too. “Could only find two of the five cameras, and I’ve been checking the feeds. I know exactly where they should be.”
Trevor peers out the sliding glass door into the backyard. “This’d be a good place to raise a family, y’know.”
“A family?” I say, shock roughening my tone. “Trev…are you and Dani?”
“No. I meant you, asshole.” With a snort, he joins me at the kitchen island where I’m starting a fresh pot of coffee. “Kind of hard to be ‘dad’ material when you never had one.”
I want to say something. Offer him some kernel of wisdom that might help him see that growing up as an orphan might actually make him agreatfather. But the look on his face tells me he’s not ready to hear anything I might have to say.
“I spent more than half of my life serving my country,” I say, watching the coffee start to drip into the pot. “What the hell am I supposed to do now?”
Shoving his hands into his pockets, Trev leans against the marble. “Could always come work with us. Dax would hire you in a heartbeat.”
“Not moving to Boston.” Removing two mugs from the cabinet, I chuckle. One of them has the UC Berkeley logo on it, the other’s from the Smithsonian. “I’m staying in Edgewater. With Mikayla.”
His eyebrows shoot up, and he stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. “You’ve known this woman how long?”
Shrugging, I fill our mugs, then slide one across the counter for him. “A week? But does it really matter? Look at everyone around us, Trev. Dax and Evianna, Ryker and Wren. Ripper and Cara. How long did any of them know one another? And fuck. How long did you know Dani? How long did youloveDani before you finally pried your head out of your ass and told her?”
“Too long.” He runs a hand through his hair, and as the air conditioner kicks on, he shudders and moves out of the way of the vent. When I meet his gaze, he shakes his head. “Can’t stand cold air blowing on me most of the time.”
I kick myself, even though I couldn’t have known. Trev spent three days in a prison cell in Caracas so small, he couldn’t sit up or straighten his legs. Lying on a frigid concrete slab. Chained. Unbearably cold. Bright lights that never dimmed. Not even allowed to sleep.
Gesturing to the couch where the vents don’t reach, I search for the right words, but they won’t come. So I settle for something…simple. “How are you, Trev?”
