"Ghost,” Buck warned.
"She literally saved our asses by warning us about explosives,” Ghost said. Buck pinched the bridge of his nose because every point was valid, and that was the problem. Ghost looked entirely too pleased with himself.
"She's one of us,” he said. The statement settled heavily between them. Buck looked toward the maps again. Was she really one of them? She wasn’t a biker, a criminal, or a King, but still, she was one of them. She was their family now, and the realization felt surprisingly right.
"You're getting attached,” Buck grumbled.
Ghost laughed. "Brother, we're way past attached." Buck stared at the map of northern Manitoba and then toward the staircase, up to the room upstairs where Wren slept. It was the room she'd somehow taken over completely, not physically, but emotionally. The clubhouse felt different when she was there—lighter, warmer, and more alive.
Ghost followed his gaze and then smirked. "Oh."
Buck frowned. "What."
Ghost pointed dramatically. “You’re making the face.
Buck groaned. “Not this again.”
Ghost looked delighted. "You love her."
"Yeah, but that’s not a secret,” Buck insisted. The easy admission surprised both of them.
Ghost burst out laughing. "Well damn, I never thought I’d see the day when both of us were settled down—especially not with the same woman.” Buck laughed too, because apparently somewhere between the kidnapping and the warehouse fire, he'd stopped being afraid of saying it. He had stopped fighting it.
Ghost raised his beer. "Look at us growing emotionally." Buck flipped him off as the war room door suddenly opened. Both men looked up to find Wren standing there barefoot, wearing one of Buck's flannels. Her hair was messy from sleep, and she looked entirely too beautiful for the middle of the night. Buck's brain immediately stopped working. And the bastard sitting next to him smirked.
Wren looked between them. "What are you two doing?"
Ghost answered instantly. "Your boyfriend was staring longingly at the stairs, thinking about you." Buck nearly choked as Wren's cheeks turned pink.
Buck sighed. "Ignore him."
"No." Ghost pointed toward Buck. "He misses you," Ghost said. Wren laughed, and the sound hit Buck right in the chest. Ghost immediately pointed at her, too. "And you smile like that every time you look at him."
"You're enjoying this too much,” Buck grumbled.
"Correct,” Ghost admitted. Wren crossed the room and sat between Ghost and Buck, close enough that her knee brushed his. Buck immediately forgot what they were discussing. The second facility, the mission, and everything that they had been planning were gone. Wren leaned her head against his shoulder, and Buck wrapped an arm around her automatically. Ghostwatched the entire thing with suspiciously soft eyes as he took her hand into his own.
Then Wren ruined everything. "So when do we leave?" Buck groaned, and just like that, the argument started all over again. He had a feeling that he was fighting a losing battle, but taking Wren with them felt more dangerous than any other mission he and Ghost had ever been on—and that had everything to do with the possibility of losing the woman they loved.
An hour later, Buck stood outside beneath a sky full of stars as snow crunched beneath his boots while cold air filled his lungs. The north stretched endlessly around him, silent and beautiful. Sometimes, he forgot how dangerous it actually was.
Footsteps approached behind him, and he knew instantly that it was Wren. He knew her walk already, and that realization should've scared him. Instead, it felt right. She stopped beside him, and neither spoke for a moment. The silence felt comfortable now.
"You're going to say no, aren’t you?” she asked.
Buck looked over at her. "To what?"
"To me coming,” she said.
Buck smiled slightly. "You already know the answer."
She sighed dramatically. "I hate it when you're reasonable." Buck laughed softly.
Then his expression sobered. "Wren." She looked up at him, and Buck took her hand and held it. "I almost lost you." The words came out rougher than intended because the memory still hurt. It still terrified him.
Wren's expression softened instantly. "Buck?—"
"No." He squeezed her hand. "Listen." She did, because she understood this wasn't about control. It wasn't about ownership. It was fear—real fear. It was the kind that came from loving somebody too much.
