I lay still afterward, breathing.
He moved back up beside me and lay against my right side, careful of the shoulder, with one hand resting on my chest.
I pulled him close and worked around the sling. He let me find the angle, and I took my time the way he had taken his, one hand against his stomach, feeling the muscles tighten and release. He wasn’t quiet. I had learned that about him, too.
He said my name.
Not Thiago—Santiago, the one he now favored.
I held him closer, and he pressed his forehead against my neck, whispering my name again. When he reached his orgasm, he shuddered against me.
I had spent twelve years running checklists in the quiet after military assignments: exits secured, client status confirmed, and departure window calculated. I ran my latest version of a checklist in my head and arrived at nothing that needed doing.
Looking up at the ceiling, I understood what I had to say, and that it was going to change my world. It was the truth, and I couldn’t leave it unsaid.
“Luca.”
He lifted his head and looked at me.
“I love you,” I said.
The words came out plain. They didn’t require elaboration.
He studied me for a moment. Then he raised up onto his elbow and looked at me.
“I love you,” he said.
Not a mirror. It was his own statement. I pulled him back down.
He settled against my side, and his breathing slowly evened out. I slept.
I was asleep for nearly twelve hours, but I woke before sunrise.
The early morning waking was an older habit than anything else I could name—older than the Rangers or New York. It was built into my bones, the pre-dawn readiness of a body preparing to move before the rest of the world.
I heard coffee grinding in the kitchen. Dominic was awake, too. I listened and heard the courtyard gate creaking in the morning breeze.
Luca was asleep beside me with one arm across my chest and his face turned toward my shoulder. His breathing was slow.
I lay still.
My go-bag was flat in my room under the bed. I could pack it again.
Instead, I settled back against the pillow and pulled Luca a little closer. He shifted without waking, and his hand moved to my ribs.
Morning arrived slowly, the light changing by degrees from gray to pale gold, filtering through the live oaks until it fell in patterns across the floor. Dominic’s footsteps moved through the kitchen below. Luca breathed slowly at my side.
As the sun rose, I stayed.
Epilogue - Luca
“Not that one,” I said. “That one goes in the dining room.”
Thiago, holding two serving bowls and looking as if I’d handed him live ammunition, turned his head toward the table. “The blue-rimmed one?”
“Yes.”
“The one I’m not currently holding.”
