Page 48 of Dissonance

Habit’s a damn hard thing to break.

My glass of soda sweats under my hand. Jerry, the regular who’s essentially part of the furniture, nurses a pint at the bar. Normal, easy, routine. The one thing I love about this place.

Lifting my glass, my gaze moves to the hallway on instinct, Cooper strolling out of the manager’s office looking far too pleased with himself for a man who was supposedly “helping his husband check inventory” thirty minutes ago. His curls are messed up—not unusual for the hard-to-tame locks—but I know that particular grin. Behind him, Declan appears, tugging his shirt like he forgot what buttons were for, faint color rising in his cheeks.

Not the first time I’ve walked in on something I shouldn’t have. Probably won’t be the last, either. I stopped being surprised by them years ago.

Rolling my eyes, I take a slow sip of my drink. Insatiable, the pair of them.

Cooper slides into the booth across from me like he owns the place, which, technically, I suppose he does.

“Evening,” he says, cheerful and undeterred by my grunt, grabbing the menu he knows by heart from the middle of the table. “Declan’s mom made lasagna, so I shouldn’t eat anything now. Buuuut I am starving.”

“Heard sucking dick can do that to you,” I deadpan, eyes cutting to Declan as he sets a drink in front of Cooper. The brilliant shade of red that climbs his face is almost worth knowing what they’ve been up to.

“It really does.” Cooper doesn’t bother hiding the smug grin, hearts practically shining in his eyes as he follows Declan back behind the bar. “You joining us for dinner?”

“No.”

He hums like he expected that, leaning back and starting to talk. About Ziggy, a photoshoot, the ridiculous number of emails in his inbox, the assistant he keeps saying he needs to hire. I nod when appropriate, grunt when something warrants a response, but even I can tell it’s half-assed.

“And I was thinking about getting a full back tattoo,” he muses, head tilting toward the ceiling like he’s picturing it. “You should see Wyatt, my pilot. Covered in them, like head to toe. And I bet he’d know the best artist to do it. Or maybe Eli could draw something up. Yeah… Dec wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off me whenever I was shirtless.”

I take another sip, eyes on the door.

“Could do something big. Angel wings? Nah, that’s kind of cliché. A snake or a dragon, maybe? Heard they’re in right now.”

I turn slowly to stare at him, my expression saying everything.

“Ah,” he says, satisfied. “You are listening.”

“I’m always listening.”

He drops the act, arms folding across his chest, that easy smile replaced with a frown.

“Okay, what’s going on? You’ve been like this for days now.”

“Like what?”

“This.” He gestures toward me vaguely. “This quiet thing.”

“I’m always quiet.”

“Not like this.” He leans forward, elbows on the table. “Spill, Lockie. Because you’re starting to freak me out.”

Normally, I’d shut it down, tell him he’s wrong. I’m not exactly an open book. But the way his eyebrows pull together, the genuine worry in his eyes, I can’t do that. Cooper isn’t just the guy I work for. He stopped being that somewhere between the third tour and the night Declan nearly walked away from him for good. Now, he’s…family. And I can’t lie to family.

I look at the condensation ring my glass has left on the table and try to find the words. The front door swings open before I get the chance, cool air rushing in with it, followed by a burst of laughter that’s small, high pitched, and unmistakably delighted, and Cooper’s entire face transforms.

“There’s my boy,” he coos as his mom steps inside, Ziggy on her hip, his whole body wriggling with excitement at the sight of his dad. Cooper’s out of the booth before she’s halfway across the room, scooping him up and holding him above his head, earning a shriek of delight in return. “Were you a good boy for Grandma?”

Ziggy grabs fistfuls of Cooper’s hair as he peppers kisses all over his cheeks.

“We tried sweet potato today,” Holly says, setting the diaper bag on the table.

“Is that why you’re covered in orange?” Cooper asks, nuzzling his nose into soft curls.

Declan appears from behind the bar with a bottle, grinning when Ziggy lunges for it. They press together, Ziggy gulping down milk, Cooper leaning into Declan’s side, both of them watching their son with a look made entirely for him.