“Damn…haven’t seen him since he stopped by our place a few years back.” Mac returned the smile.
“Okay. So.” Frost ticked off his fingers. “Movie and dinner, then find that Motley Crew.”
Noah chuckled. “Sounds good. Let’s find rooms first.”
“I wonder what the op is?” Seth said, hooking his arm through his.
Frost huffed out a breath and shook his head.
“Genesis doesn’t need help unless it’s bad,” he said. “This is going to be a problem.”
Later that evening…
Time had dragged through the afternoon and into the evening. Damn, he was bone weary. His shoulders carried it, heavy and unrelenting.
Sage lifted his gaze from the coffee cup in his hands—the heat long gone. It left a dull, stale taste at the back of his tongue. He looked to where Law sat beside him.
Broad shoulders, steady and unmoving.
Those whiskey-colored eyes moved slowly, catching everything without looking like he was trying.
Close—protective, steady, impossible to ignore. Close enough to feel the heat of him.
Law had come for him.
His team was right. They were definitely a thing.
There was no denying it.
Sage’s pulse kicked once, hard, and he searched for something to say.
“A far cry from the Fourth, huh?” He grimaced.
“Hey.” Law’s mouth tipped into a faint smile that made Sage want to kiss him. “We’ll have more Fourths.”
“Yeah?” He smiled.
“Yeah.” Law’s eyes held his.
The doors to the surgical waiting area pushed open, dragging Sage’s gaze away from him. The air carried that sterile edge that never quite faded. Conversation stalled for a beat. Even the nurses behind the glass stilled for half a beat before the quiet titter started—low, not quite subtle as the space filled all at once.
Black came through first—dark, fluid, moving like a panther slipping into a space it already owned. Lethal without trying.
Behind him, Rip filled the doorway—big, powerful, his presence alone shifted the room again—and Boston slipped in at his side, lighter, sharper, eyes already moving, taking everything in.
Sage set the cup down without looking away.
Micah stepped in behind them, all long lines and quiet tension, willowy but wired tight—his focus snapping straight to Sage.
Black’s attention flicked once—Micah, quick check, no visible injuries—then shifted to Law.
Micah stepped around the group and held out a wrapped sandwich to Sage. “Got you something from the cafeteria.”
“Thanks.” Sage shot a glance toward Ashley. She looked like a ghost. Too still. Too pale.
“And for her too,” Micah said, already moving past him. He walked over and quietly offered Ashley a hot drink and a wrapped sandwich.
She looked startled for a moment, then gently took them.
