The air is cold, but it brings some color back into his cheeks as he creeps along the edge of the bushes, completely absorbed in his task of looking for bugs to show to Nico.
My shoulders ache from holding so much tension.
Every instinct I have screams to hover near him, to pull him close, or to lock him inside where nothing can touch him. But I don’t. I force myself to stay put and watch him be a six-year-old kid instead of a piece of collateral that men like Lorcan or Adrian could use.
Scout looks over his shoulder and spots me watching. He waves, and I lift my hand in return, my mouth curving into a smile despite myself before he goes back to his bug hunting like nothing in the world has ever gone wrong.
How I wish I could live there with him…
Footsteps approach behind me, but I don’t look around, mostly because I don’t want to take my eyes off my son for even a second.
“If you keep staring like that, he’s going to think he’s in trouble.” Brennan drops down onto the step beside me and stretches out his long legs in front of him. “Here,” he offers me a mug of coffee.
From the steam curling around the top, it must be fresh.
“I didn’t know you knew how to operate the coffee machine.”
“All right, you caught me. One of the maids was bringing it out, and I may or may not have intercepted it.”
I snort. “The brunette or the blonde?”
Brennan grins. “Blonde.”
“Of course.”
“I can’t help it if women love a man with battle scars,” he taps the side of his head.
The stitches have dissolved, leaving a nasty red scar that should fade in time.
For Scout’s sake, I hope it does. He doesn’t need another reminder of the nightmare he went through every time he looks at his uncle's face.
The two of us sit in silence for a moment, watching Scout, though I can sense the underlying questions that Brennan is about to ask.
But he doesn’t rush me to talk. He never does. It’s one of the reasons he’s good at what he does, and one of the reasons he gets under my skin.
“He’s different,” Brennan says finally.
I nod once. “He’s quieter.”
“But…still him,” Brennan finishes.
“For now,” I take a sip of coffee.
I can feel Brennan’s eyes on me the entire time.
“What?”
“You haven’t slept.”
“I sleep.”
“Youdoze,” he corrects.
I don’t bother denying it.
My eyes stay locked on Scout as he darts across the lawn, triumphant now that he’s found a new bug.
“I keep thinking if I look away, something’s going to happen.”
