“Oh, no you don’t.” I found my legs and narrowed the distance between us, seizing his chin in a vicious grip. “Do you honestly thinkoneperfectly justified meltdown is getting you out of this? Do you have any idea how manyunjustified tantrums I’ve had, and Nash still loves me to the moon and back?”
“You’re easy to love.”
“So are you. But it wouldn’t matter if it was difficult, sweetheart. You’reoursfor as long as you want to be, and nothing you throw at us will ever change that.”
Distress danced in Locke’s potent gaze. “I was a dick to him.”
“He doesn’t see it that way.”
“I know.”
“You read his texts?”
Nodding, Locke pried my hand from his jaw and laced his battle-scarred fingers with mine. “Every ten minutes. It’s hard to believe he’s real, especially right now.”
Locke tapped his temple, reminding me, as if I needed it, that this miscommunication might not have happened if he’d been in his right mind. That the scars on his body barely scratched the surface of the damage the last decade had left behind.
I stretched up to kiss his cheek. “How are you? Really?”
“Better,” Locke said without hesitation. “I’ve had the full Whitlock treatment and Embry wants me to read a book.”
“Oh. Yeah, he does that. Embry and his books. Is that why you’re here? To hide from him?”
“I’m here because I can’t be away from you a minute fuckin’ longer.” Locke tucked a wayward section of hair behind my ear. “I’ve been out of my head for days, just trying to hold it together enough to see the kids and handle Logan. Then I woke up this morning, freaking out because the door was closed, and I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t surgically attached to the two people on this planet who make me feel like I can survive anything.”
After days andweeksof silence, it was a lot to absorb. “Even video-calling your brother?”
Locke grimaced. “Still haven’t done that.”
“Then do it now.” I pointed at my chair. “While I’m right here to hold your hand.”
Mild panic cinched Locke’s brow. “You going somewhere?”
“Without you? I don’t think I could.”
Locke squeezed my hands, then folded himself into the office chair and propped his phone on the desk.
He took a deep breath and hit the call button for his twin, the fluttering beep of the connection tone filling the office before it was answered.
The screen blurred, then cleared to show the face of Logan Halliwell, his features so familiar and yet he was still a stranger to me.
Backing off to give them space, I grabbed some paperwork I didn’t care about and moved to the filing cabinet, cursing at the disorder that Rubi left behind on purpose, ignoring the rush of emotion in my chest at how, after a month of devastating chaos, having Locke at my desk felt so normal. As if he hadn’t been absent from our day-to-day lives so long that his close proximity now left me dizzy.
His deep voice kept me upright. Logan’s too, but I tried not to listen, and Rubi had left enough administrative distractions in his wake to keep me occupied.
I squatted to remove the vegetable-themed stickers he’d attached to every invoice, calling him every name under the sun, plotting revenge that was far more violent than stationery vandalism.
With my other hand, I messaged Nash.
Orla:You need to get back.
Nash:what’s wrong?
Orla:He’s here. He came to see me.
Nash:everything okay?
Orla:Think so. He’s on FT with Logan