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He asked you out for a dinner date before the end of the night. Before the end of that date, he’d already secured another, and so on and so forth. Now, it was nearly two years later and you wore his ring and carried his name.

Things had been busy in and out of the station lately and he hadn’t had the time to spend with you as he wished. It had been weeks since he’d been able to take you on anything resembling a date. So, he’d told you he was all yours for the night, to pick where you wanted to go and he’d make it happen.

You’d texted him midday. Got it handled baby. Text when you’re on the way.

He frowned at that, wanting to take care of you. To treat you. But he’d said it was your choice so he’d kept his mouth shut and followed instructions.

When he arrived home, a bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand, he found you curled up on the couch in your comfortable clothes. You stood to greet him with a wide smile. “Hey, baby. Those for me?”

“Of course,” he said before pressing his lips to yours. “You don’t look ready to go anywhere.”

You twined your arms around his neck. “That’s because we are staying right here where I don’t have to share you with anyone. Dinner was delivered about five minutes ago. I will dish it up. All I need you to do is get comfortable and light the fire.”

He studied your face, making sure this was what you really wanted. Realizing it was, he smiled. “Sounds perfect.” He kissed you again before pulling back and handing you your flowers. “Better get those in water, sweetheart.”

Fifteen minutes later found the two of you curled up together on the couch while you ate your dinner, flames crackling in the fireplace and an old movie on the TV. Charlie leaned over and pressed a kiss to your head. “I wanted to take you out and treat you tonight, but this is so much better. My girl’s so smart.”

You shot him a grin that quickly faded when his phone buzzed on the table beside him. He glanced at the screen and frowned. He’d made it abundantly clear to everyone he was not to be disturbed for anything short of an apocalypse. He answered. “What part of ‘do not bother me’ was unclear in the communication I sent out?”

There was a beat of silence. “I’m sorry, sir. I just—”

“Has there been an officer involved shooting?”

“No, sir.”

“Here’s what’s going to happen. I am going to hang up. Then you are going to send out a new department wide communication that states Deputy Chief Reid’s phone is off until sometime tomorrow. If there is an emergency, send a car to the house. And it better be a fucking goddamned emergency. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.” The answer was so quiet, Charlie barely heard it.

“Good.” And then Charlie did precisely what he said he would. He hung up and turned off the phone. He left the burner on as he rarely got calls that weren’t emergencies on it anyway.

He dropped the phone on the table and kissed your head, before digging back into his meal. After a moment, he realized you were still just sitting there looking at him. “What’s wrong?”

“You didn’t have to do that, Charlie,” you said, but you had that soft look you got when he’d done something that pleased you greatly.

“Don’t get touchy. I was just asking,” she insisted as she moved closer.

Clint crossed his arms on the desk and rested his chin on top of them to look at her. “You remember when everybody hated me because I never got to see my girl and I turned into an asshole?”

“Technically you didn’t get to see her because you broke up with her, but yes.”

He just stared at her for a beat. “Really?”

She simply gave him a sweet smile in response.

He leaned back in his chair with a sigh. “Yeah, well, I’m about to become an asshole again. I’ve barely had any time to spend with her.”

Natasha grimaced before smoothing her features.

“What?” Clint asked, instantly suspicious.

“You have a meeting in forty-five minutes.”

This could not be happening. He was going to scream. He thought he might have actually been able to get out of here on time for once. “How important?”

“Very. One of the investors Fury wants on board is in town only for the night. Wants to meet with you,” she said. At least she looked mildly apologetic about it.

Clint stood and grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair where he’d draped it earlier. “Where?”

“His hotel. Dinner in his suite. I already gave the details to Scott and I’ll send the room number to your phone.” She walked with him to the elevator.

“Great. Fantastic. So looking forward to this,” he said as they waited. “I’m going to need to buy out half the flower shop for my girl at this rate.”

“As if you wouldn’t do that anyway.” Natasha gave him a wave as the elevator doors closed between them.

Clint arrived at the hotel early but didn’t particularly care. Hopefully it just meant he could finish early as well. He made his way to the presidential suite on the top floor. When he arrived, he found the door open with a note that instructed him to come on in. He took the note off the door and stepped inside.

A table was set for dinner near the large window that showcased the city. A room service cart sat nearby and…was that champagne chilling on the table? The lights were dimmed and candles illuminated the room. This seemed very intimate for an investor meeting. After double checking the information Natasha had sent him, Clint called out a timid, “Hello?”

He heard the click of a lock and spun back to the door to find you smiling at him. “You’re early,” you said with a smile.

His gaze ran the length of you, taking in the dress he’d never seen before. You were wearing the necklace he’d bought you for your first event together and your feet were bare. “And you’re stunning.”

Your smile widened as you closed the distance between you. “Hi,” you said when you came to a stop in front of him, hands finding the lapels of his jacket.

His smile mirrored your own. “Hi.” His hands settled on your hips as he gave you a quick kiss. “What is this?”

“This is me conspiring with your best friend to get you all to myself for 36 hours or so.”

“Is that so?” His grip shifted as he wrapped you in his arms and pulled you into him. His lips traced a trail starting just beneath your ear and running the length of your neck.

You hummed in agreement as your arms looped around his neck. “Happy?”

Except the tightness in his chest had gotten worse. And the cough drops weren’t doing a damn thing. Every time he tried to take a deep breath, it felt like an invisible band was squeezing his lungs. His voice had taken on a rougher edge and he’d start wheezing if he tried to say more than few words at a time.

“You look like shit,” said a familiar voice behind him.

Jack turned to find Robby standing there, coffee in hand, ready to start his shift. “Good morning to you, too. Some of us have been up all night.”

Robby hummed. “And some of us are clearly coming down with something. Seriously, Jack, you don’t look good. Are you okay?”

Jack waved a hand through the air in dismissal. “Fine. Just a little under the weather.”

“Is that why you’re breathing like you just ran a marathon?” Robby took a step closer. “You’re wheezing and I’m not the only one that noticed. I got three texts from night shift.”

“It’s just a cold.” Jack tried to take a deep breath to prove his point but it caught in his throat, triggering another coughing fit. This one was worse than the others and had him gripping the edge of the counter for support.

When the coughing subsided, Robby’s gaze was stern. “That doesn’t sound like a cold to me.”

“It’s nothing,” Jack insisted, though the pain in his chest suggested otherwise. “Probably just moved to my chest is all.”

Robby sat his coffee down and crossed his arms. “That is not nothing. I want labs and a chest x-ray.”

“Christ, Mike. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“I’m not asking, Jack. You’re a doctor. You know better than to ignore stuff like this.” His tone left no room for argument.

Jack recognized the look his friend was giving him. He wasn’t getting out of this. He sighed. “Fine. One x-ray. Then I’m going home to sleep.”

“Deal,” Robby said, already putting in the order for the portable chest x-ray into the system. He glanced at Dana who hadn’t even pretended she wasn’t listening.

“Eight’s open.”

“A room, man? Come on,” Jack complained but headed in that direction.

“Quit complaining,” Robby said as he trailed behind him, signaling the radiology tech with the machine to follow him. “Shirt off, Abbot.”

“Buy me dinner first,” Jack snarked even as he did as told. He laid down and the machine was positioned over the top of him.

“Take a deep breath and hold it,” Marcia the tech instructed.

The first time he attempted to follow instructions, he devolved into a coughing fit. “Sorry,” he apologized once he caught his breath.

“It’s fine. Just do the best you can.” The tech took three shots from different angles.

Robby slid on his glasses and stepped up to the machine while Jack put his t-shirt back on, forgoing the scrub top since his shift was over anyway.

“Let me guess. Nothing but a little inflammation. Can I go home now?”

“Leave us for a minute,” Robby said to Marcia, voice low.

Jack’s head snapped up, his gaze darting from his friend to the screen he was looking at and back again. “What is it?”

Robby turned the screen toward Jack so he could see for himself. Even from across the room, he could see the large white mass shadowing his right lung.

He swallowed hard. “That could be pneumonia. Or an abscess or something.”

“It could be,” Robby agreed but his tone suggested he didn’t believe it. “I’ve sent it up to pulmonary.” His phone rang before he could say anything else. He glanced at the screen. “That was fast.”

Jack shifted his weight as he listened to Robby’s one-sided conversation with pulmonary. When he hung up, he turned to look at Jack.

“Dr. Tanaka wants to see you immediately.” He paused and looked at Jack as if the name should mean something to him. It didn’t. After a moment, Robby took a breath. “He’s sent an order to CT. You’re to report there and then head to his office.”

“Right now?” Jack’s voice was little more than a whisper. The words having to be forced past the lump in his throat. This was all happening too fast. One moment he’d been dismissing his persistent cough and the next he was being scheduled for immediate appointments with pulmonary. “It’s probably nothing. Just a weird artefact in the imaging or something,” he said more to himself than Robby.

“I’m sure you’re right,” Robby agreed, but the worry in his eyes said something else entirely. “But you’re going to get checked out thoroughly just to be sure.”

Within half an hour, Jack was laying on the table in a gown as the CT hummed around him. The contrast dye made him feel warm and vaguely nauseous, but it was nothing compared to the cold fear settling in his stomach.

The tech entered the room. “All finished. By the time you get changed and to his office, Dr. Tanaka should have the images.”

Jack cleared his throat. “That’s fast.”

“You’re a VIP patient today, Dr. Abbot.”

There was nothing Jack wanted to be less. He didn’t want to be here. Didn’t want to be doing this. He wanted to go home, go to bed and pretend none of this ever happened.

He made his way to the pulmonary floor trying to prepare himself for whatever Dr. Tanaka might say. He’d delivered bad news to patients and their families plenty of times, but he hadn’t been on the receiving end since Mari died.

The waiting room was empty when he arrived, the early hour meaning most patients hadn’t arrived for the appointments yet. The receptionist smiled as he approached. “Dr. Abbot? Dr. Tanaka is ready for you. Third door on the right.”

Jack took a deep breath, or tried to, and headed down the hall. Whatever was waiting for him, he would face it like he did everything else. Head on. Even if, for the first time in years, he was truly afraid.

When he entered the room, Jack was surprised to find himself in an office instead of an exam room. Tanaka rose to greet him. “Dr. Abbot,” he held out a hand to shake Jack’s.

“Just Jack,” he said with a nod before taking one of the chairs in front of the desk.

“Very well. Jack, then.” Tanaka stayed standing and pressed a couple of buttons on his computer and the large screen behind him lit up with an image of what Jack assumed were his lungs. He pointed at the mass that seemed to branch out from the right lung. “Do you know what you’re looking at here?”

Jack studied the image noting the abnormal density, the way it seemed to branch through his lung tissue like the roots of a plant. The mass was larger than it had appeared in the x-ray, more defined.

Jack swallowed. “A tumor. Probably malignant given the irregularities and the rapid growth.” He’d seen the symptoms enough in his patients to recognize the pattern. The cough, the tight chest, the fatigue. Classic presentation for lung cancer.

Tanaka shook his head. “I had my suspicions from your x-ray but the CT confirms.” He used a finger to indicate several areas on the scan. “Do you see these fine lines extending from the main mass?”

Jack leaned forward. Now that the doctor pointed it out, he could see delicate lines spreading through his lung tissue. “Vascularization?” he guessed.

“Not exactly.” Tanaka took a seat at his desk. “What you’re seeing is consistent with the presentation of Hanahaki disease.”

Jack physically jerked back in his seat. That wasn’t… “That’s impossible. I want a second opinion.”

“You are certainly entitled to one, but I am the leading expert in Hanahaki in the state.” He wasn’t bragging, just stating a fact.

The look Robby had given him when he’d said the name suddenly made so much sense. “I’ve only ever loved my wife, and she’s dead. Has been for years.”

Jack had seen Hanahaki before, of course he had. The condition was rare and still not well understood. Unrequited love manifesting physically with the growth of flowers in the lungs. But it was something that happened to young romantics or the occasional middle-age yearner, not to someone like him. Not to an old, broken ER attending who’d buried his heart with his wife six years ago.

“I’m sorry, but the blood tests confirm.” He clicked on his screen and Jack’s results populated the screen.

Jack shook his head, unable to process what he was hearing. “Run more tests. There has to be a mistake.”

“Dr. Abbot, Jack, we can run additional tests, but given your symptoms and the findings, Hanahaki is our working diagnosis.” He paused, studying Jack’s face. “I suggest you do some soul searching. You’re in love whether you want to admit it to yourself or not.”

Jack opened his mouth to argue but another coughing fit seized him, doubling him over. His lungs burned as he struggled to draw breath. When it finally subsided, he was surprised to find Tanaka standing in front of him holding a tissue. Only when he took it did he understand why. Delicate pink petals filled his palm.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispered, staring at the evidence in his hand.

“That’s confirmation enough for me,” Dr. Tanaka said quietly. “The small petals are consistent with early stage Hanahaki. They’ll become larger and more numerous as the disease progresses, until you are expelling full blooms.”

Jack couldn’t tear his gaze away from the petals. Each one was perfect, like they’d been plucked from some unseen garden growing inside him. And he supposed in a way they had. “How long?” he managed to ask.

“Hard to say without knowing how fast it’s progressing. We’ll do another scan in a week and go from there.” Tanaka paused then added, “I assume you are aware of your options.”

Jack nodded once. “Surgery or…death.” He had to force the last word past his lips. He’d engaged in reckless behavior, volunteering for SWAT, standing on the edge of the roof while he thought about how easy it would be to just not have to deal with it all anymore. To not be alone every fucking day of his life. But now that the very real possibility of his death was looming in the shadows he suddenly found he didn’t want it.

“As you are aware, the surgery would remove any feelings for the person in question. You may forget them entirely though that is very rare. There is also always the possibility that the person you love will return your affections. Then no intervention would be needed,” Tanaka said, voice soft. “The matter would resolve on its own. It’s quite remarkable really.”

Jack looked down at the petals again. The idea that his body had somehow conjured flowers from a love he wasn’t even aware of seemed impossible. Yet the evidence was literally in his hand.

“You have a lot to think about,” Tanaka said, standing. “I’ll schedule another scan for next week and we can talk about options.”

“Thank you,” Jack said as he stood as well.

“You should take it easy until then. The coughing may worsen, particularly if you’re stressed or physically exerted. I’d recommend time off work.”

“I’ll think about it,” Jack said, but the thought of sitting alone at home with his thoughts was not one he wanted to contemplate at the moment.

Dr. Tanaka seemed to sense his turmoil. “This is a lot to process. Many patients find it helpful to talk to someone. A therapist or a family member. And I suggest a discussion with the person—”

“There is no person,” Jack cut him off sharply. “My wife has been dead for six years. There’s been no one since.”

The other man didn’t argue, but his expression made it clear he wasn’t convinced. “I’ll see you next week. Call if you have any questions or concerns before then.”

“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.” Jack turned and hurried from the room, closing the door behind him. In the hall, he pressed his back against the wall. He took the deepest breath he had since entering the office. The tightness in his chest reminded him of the flowers blooming where they had no right to be.

Love.

The word echoed in his head. He’d buried that part of himself when Mari died. The idea that his body had somehow betrayed him, had grown flowers for someone else…It was too much. He couldn’t accept it. Wouldn’t.

He pushed off the wall and headed for the elevator. One foot in front of the other. That’s how he’d gotten through the worst days after Mari’s death and that’s how he would get through this.

Jack made it back to the ER on autopilot, his mind still reeling. Day shift was in full swing. Jack just stood for a minute, trying to orientate himself, feeling oddly disconnected from the familiar chaos.

“Jack!”

He turned to find Robby hurrying toward him. His face was creased with worry, eyes scanning Jack’s features as if searching for visible changes.

“Well? What did he say?”

Jack opened his mouth, then closed it again. How did he possibly explain he was coughing up petals for someone he was supposedly in love with? It was stupid. Ridiculous. And just the sort of thing that would happen to him. Of course it was.

“It’s not possible,” he finally forced out. “It’s not…Mike, I…” His voice cracked, another cough building in his chest.

“Okay, okay,” Robby said, his tone shifting from urgent to soothing. “Let’s sit down, huh? You look like you’re about ready to fall over.”

Before Jack could protest, Robby led him through the department toward the breakroom. He deposited him in a chair at one of the tables, then turned to fill a cup with water. “Here, drink,” he instructed as he sat it in front of Jack.

Jack obeyed mechanically, the cool liquid soothing his raw throat. The simple act centered him somewhat, anchoring him to the present moment.

Robby pulled out a chair and sat down. “Now, what did Tanaka say?”

Jack stared at the cup in his hands. “Hanahaki,” he said finally.

“Shit. I thought it might be when they said Tanaka wanted to see you.” Robby sighed and ran a hand over his mouth. “He’s the best, so there’s that at least.”

Jack shook his head. “It doesn’t make any sense, man. I haven’t been in love with anyone since Mari died.”

An expression he couldn’t place flicked across Robby’s face before shifting to disbelief. “Are you serious right now?”

Jack frowned. “What’s with the tone? Why are you making it sound like I’m stupid?”

“Because you are,” Robby said without hesitation. When Jack just stared at him, Robby pinched the bridge of his nose, took a deep breath, then crossed his arms over his chest. “You really don’t know?”

“Know what?” Jack demanded, irritation briefly overriding his confusion.

Your name was the only thing that left Robby’s lips.

Jack blinked and repeated it like a question. Like your face hadn’t just appeared in his brain. Like he didn’t instantly think about your smile, hear your laugh.

“Yes!” Robby threw his hands up in exasperation. “The woman you’ve been staring at with a besotted expression for the past eight months? The one you look for anytime you enter the department? The one whose coffee order you have memorized?”

No, no. That couldn’t be right. “But she’s—”

“Brilliant,” Robby stated. “Funny. Kind. Beautiful. Should I continue to list off everything you said to me the last time we went out? You talked about her all night, man.”

“I mean…I respect her.” The words felt inadequate even as he said them. Images of you flashed through his mind. The way you laughed at your own jokes even if no one else did, how you always remembered small details about people, that furrow that appeared between your brows when you were concentrating.

“She’s dedicated,” he continued. “Compassionate. She doesn’t take shit from anyone, but she’s never mean about it. And she’s…” He trailed off, suddenly realizing he could continue talking about you for the rest of the day.

“She’s what?” Robby prompted, a knowing look on his face.

Jack shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t love her. I can’t.”

“Why not? Because you loved Mari? Loving someone else doesn’t erase what you had with her.”

“It’s not that simple,” Jack argued, though he couldn’t have explained why if someone pressed.

“It actually is,” Robby replied, not unkindly. “You loved your wife. She died and it broke you. For a long time, I wasn’t certain you’d ever put yourself back together. But you have. And against all odds you found someone who makes you feel something again. Instead of being grateful, instead of grasping it with both hands, you’re literally making yourself sick denying it.”

“It’s not…I haven’t—”

“You have,” Robby interrupted. “Everyone knows you’re in love with her except you and her, apparently.” He sighed and ran a hand down his face. “Just think about it, okay? Really think about it.”

As if on cue, another coughing fit seized Jack, this one stronger than the last. He doubled over, hand braced against the table as his chest contracted painfully. When it finally subsided, he found his palm filled with more petals, the edges tinged with blood.

“Holy shit.” Robby stared at the evidence in front of him.

Jack closed his hand around the petals, as if hiding them from view would make them cease to exist. “I need to get out of here. I need to go home.” He pushed himself to his feet. The room titled slightly, his vision blurring at the edges.

“You’re in no condition to drive,” Robby said standing as well, typing on his phone. “Let me have someone run you home.”

“I’m fine,” Jack insisted though the wheeze in his voice undermined his claim. “I just need some sleep. I need to rest.” He needed to get you out of his brain.

“You need to figure this out, Jack. Finding out you have Hanahaki would throw anyone for a loop, especially when you didn’t even realize you were in love. But this isn’t something you can ignore. It won’t just go away, it will only get worse.

Robby was right, Jack knew he was. He’d been ignoring what was happening for weeks, dismissing symptoms, making excuses. And now he was paying the price.

“I know. I’ll think about what you said. I promise.”

“Good. That’s a start. Now get your things together. Your ride should be here in a minute.”

Now, when Robby said ride, Jack assumed he meant an intern. An uber perhaps. What he did not expect to see when he stepped through the doors was you. You’d pulled your car to the side where it wouldn’t impede any ambulances and you leaned against it. It took him longer than he’d admit to realize you were waiting for him.

Jack spun on his heel to glare at his former best friend. “What the fuck did you do?” he hissed.

Robby gave him a look of feigned innocence. “Got you a ride.”

“You asked her?”

At that he grinned. “Actually, I sent a message to the group chat. She volunteered.”

“Oh.” He looked over to find you in the same position, your gaze moving between the two attendings. He lifted a hand in greeting and to let you know he’d be right there.

You nodded, waved at Robby and got behind the wheel.

“What do I do?” Jack asked, suddenly at a loss.

Robby rested a heavy hand on Jack’s shoulder. “You don’t have to do anything, brother. Just let her take you home. Think about how you really feel about her. That’s all.”

“Yeah, yeah, I can do that,” Jack agreed with a nod of his head. “I’ll see you later.”

“Not tonight you won’t,” Robby corrected. “You’re off until Friday at the earliest. Doctor’s orders.”

Jack didn’t bother to argue. Knew there would be no point. And honestly, he could use a few days to get his head straight. He held up a hand in goodbye as he made his way to your car, his mind churning. What if Robby was right? What if he’d fallen in love without realizing it, what then? You had never given any indication you felt the same. The idea of confessing feelings that might not be returned…

Another cough built in his chest as if his body was responding to the thought. He swallowed hard, forcing it down. One problem at a time. First, he needed to get home. Then he needed to figure out if Robby was right.

As if sensing Jack was lost his head, you didn’t attempt to make conversation after your initial greeting once he got in the car. When you arrived at his house, he finally turned to look at you. “Thanks for the ride. I would have been fine driving but Robby insisted.”

“I didn’t mind, Jack. However, I’m afraid you can’t be rid of me just yet.”

His brows shot up into his hairline. “Excuse me?”

“Bossman said, and I quote, ‘get his ass inside and into bed with a glass of water and trashcan nearby.’ So that’s what I’m going to do. Let’s go.” You climbed out of the car and waited for him to exit before locking the doors.

“I assure you that his is not necessary,” Jack argued. More than that, it could be catastrophic. Having you in his house, where he’d now be able to picture you clearly instead of relying solely on his imagination? That sounded like a horrible idea. Not that he’d ever pictured you in his house. Sitting across from him at the table, nestled into his side as you watched TV. That would be absurd.

You took his bag from his loose hold and ignored his protests as you carried it up to the door. Jack stared at you hopeless for another moment before sighing and following after you. “Keys are in the front pocket.”

You pulled them out and handed them over. He unlocked the door, leaving it open for you to follow after. He gestured at the hooks just inside the door. “You can hang the bag there.”

You did and kicked off your shoes, nudging them to line up against the wall. “Robby didn’t exactly say what was wrong with you.” You paused, but Jack didn’t offer any clarification. No, that would be a monumentally stupid thing to do. You cleared your throat. “Are you hungry? I could make you something.”

“No, sweetheart, I’m fine.” The endearment slipped out without thought. He suddenly wondered when the first time was he had called you that. And when had that become the norm instead of your name? Christ. He wiped a hand down his face. “I’m fucking exhausted. I just want to go to bed.”

You nodded. “Sure. Let me get you that water at least.”

Jack just nodded and headed down the hall toward his bedroom to fish out something to change into after his shower. You stepped into the doorway just as he finished taking off his leg. He froze and swallowed. “Sorry. Forgot you’d be coming back here.”

You smiled and Jack had to glance away. “It’s your home, Jack, and I’ve seen you without the leg before. It’s not like you were nude. Here.” You sat the glass on the nightstand. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No. I’ve got it. Thank you.” You had seen him without the leg precisely once when it started rubbing wrong on a shift and you’d made him sit down and get an exam. You’d also bullied him into supervising from a wheelchair for the rest of the night when you saw his red, raw flesh by threatening to call Robby and tattle on him.

Your gaze ran over him, assessing. He could feel it. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

His eyes found yours again but he said nothing.

“You just seem off.” Worry shone in your eyes and he forced himself to look away once more.

“I’m fine. Just tired.”

After a moment, you stepped toward the door. “Call me if you need anything, okay? Anything at all.” When he only nodded, you added, “Promise?”

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat when he heard the gravel in his voice. “Promise.”

“Okay. Bye, Jack.” And with that, you left without waiting for a response.

Tension immediately flowed from Jack’s entire body. Jesus, Robby couldn’t have found literally anyone else to bring him home? He pushed thoughts of you from his head as he finished stripping. Using his crutches, he moved into the shower, ready to rinse the night off so he could get some sleep.

Not thinking of you lasted approximately two and a half minutes after he turned the water on. He’d turned the temp up on the water hoping it would help clear his lungs. His chest ached with each breath, a constant reminder of the flowers blooming in his lungs.

Flowers.

For you.

It was ridiculous. Yes, he enjoyed working with you. You were competent, smart, quick to smile and to make others laugh. You had a way with patients that made even the most difficult cases manageable. And so what if he’d noticed the way your eyes crinkled at the corners when you smiled, or that you tapped your fingers when you were thinking?

But that didn’t mean he was in love with you. Love was what he’d had with Mari. All consuming, life-altering, the kind that left you devastated and broken when it was no longer yours. What he felt for you was…appreciation. Admiration, perhaps. Friendship. That was it. He loved you like a very dear friend.

Except friends didn’t keep mental lists of your favorite foods, or notice when you changed your shampoo, or come in on their nights off because you were working. Friends didn’t feel their mood lift the moment you walked into a room or find themselves replaying conversations long after they’d ended.

Jack groaned, rinsing the last of the shampoo out of his hair. This was insane. He was a grown man, not some teenager with a crush. He’d been married, for fuck’s sake. He knew what love felt like.

Or he had once. Before Mari died, leaving him hollowed out and certain he would never feel that way again. He’d adjusted to his solitude. To the bed being too big and the house too quiet.

But lately…

He sucked in a shaky breath as he finally admitted to himself that he’d been pursuing you without even realizing it. No wonder Robby had looked at him like he was an idiot. He was.

“I’m fond of her,” he said aloud, testing the words. “That’s all it is. A fondness.” It couldn’t be love, because if it was that meant—

His chest contracted sharply, another cough building. This one came on faster than the others, stealing his breath before he could prepare. He curled forward, one hand pressed to his sternum as his lungs spasmed. The coughing fit seemed to last forever, each breath harder than the last, until finally, blessedly, it subsided.

When he could breathe again, he opened his eyes to see dozens of petals swirling toward the drain. Proof, if he’d needed it that Tanaka was right. That Robby was right.

He was in love with you. For far longer than he cared to admit.

Tears mixed with the water running down his cheeks as his shoulders shook in a silent sob. He’d fallen in love with you and hadn’t even realized because it was so subtle, so quiet, compared to what he’d had with his wife. He’d lost out on so much time with you because he was too afraid to examine his feelings. To admit to himself what everyone else had known all along.

But what difference did it make really? Because even if he loved you, what then? You’d never given any indication you felt the same. No lingering looks or soft touches. Nothing to suggest you saw him as anything more than a colleague.

And why would you? He was damaged goods. A widower with a missing leg and more baggage than most people would want to deal with. You were vibrant, fully engaged with life in a way he had long forgotten. You deserved someone whole, someone who could love you without reservation or complication. Someone who didn’t still wake reaching for a wife that would never be there again.

Jack closed his eyes and took another shaky breath as he turned off the water. As he dried off and headed for bed, he considered his options. He’d meet with Tanaka and schedule the surgery. But he should talk to you first. He knew he should. But he was so fucking scared.

He reached for his phone, thumb hovering over your name in his contacts. You’d told him to call if he needed anything, but what if he only needed you? He could hear your voice, ask you to come back. He could tell you everything and hope maybe you felt the same.

He moved to the call button, then stopped. He needed to sleep first. Needed to be fully about himself before he decided how to approach this. It took hours of tossing and turning before he finally found rest, but even that was fitful.

He glanced at the clock when he woke to find it nearing seven. At least he’d managed a few hours. You were working, so his grand confession would have to wait. Maybe he could meet you after shift and take you to breakfast.

He was so lost in his head when he opened the bedroom door that he almost disregarded the rich aroma filling the air and the soft sounds from his kitchen. He frowned and moved into the other room, calling a soft “Hello?” as he went.

As he stepped into the doorway, you glanced at him over your shoulder and he sucked in a breath. You were here. In his home. Making dinner.

“You stayed?” he asked, voice rougher than intended.

You shrugged and turned back to the stove. “You didn’t look okay. I wanted to be close, crashed on the couch. I hope I didn’t overstep.”

He swallowed down the words that rose in his throat. No. Never. Stay the night. Stay forever. “Don’t you have to work?”

“Bossman gave me the night off. Told me to take care of you if I was that worried. I wasn’t going to argue with him. Thought I’d make you some soup.” You didn’t look at him, but he could hear the concern in your tone, the worry that he would be upset with you for taking care of him.

He just watched you move in his space like you belonged there.

Finally, you glanced at him again and gave him a small smile when you found him watching. “Where’s your bowls?”

“I’ll get them,” he said, suddenly desperate to do something.

It was a simple task but before he could even open the cabinet, he was seized by another violent coughing fit. He bent over the sink, bracing against the edge for support. His chest burned and his vision blurred at the edge. He vaguely registered you saying his name and a hand landing on his back, warm even through the fabric of his shirt.

When the fit finally subsided, he was horrified to see the petals that littered the sink.

You went completely still beside him. “Jack, are those…”

“It’s not…” he started then trailed off. There was no explanation he could give you beside the truth.

“Oh,” you said softly, your fingers curling in as you removed your touch from his back. You took a step away. “Who is it?” You sounded resigned, maybe even a little hurt.

The question hung between you. Jack remained braced against the sink, unable to look at you. “When my wife died, I thought I would never love anyone again. That it would be impossible. So, when it happened, I didn’t even realize it. Or I suppose it’s more like I ignored it.” He risked a glance at your reflection in the window above the sink. “I guess my body didn’t like that. It’s making me face it.”

“That wasn’t my question, Jack.” Your voice was smaller than he’d ever heard it.

He turned to face you then, his hip leaning against the counter to take his weight. “Don’t you know, sweetheart? According to Robby, it’s obvious to everyone in the department that I’m crazy about you.”

Jack watched your face for your reaction. Anything. But your expression remained carefully blank aside from a slight widening of your eyes.

“Me?” you finally said, the word barely audible.

“Yeah.” Jack pushed off from the counter, using his crutches to move over to one of the chairs and dropping into it. He kept his gaze on anything but you. “But I don’t expect anything. You don’t owe me anything. I have options. I’ll be fine. I see the doctor again next week and I can get the surgery scheduled.”

 “Jack Abbot, if you have that surgery, I will never forgive you.” Your sharp tone had his head immediately snapping over to follow you as you stepped toward him.

“What? Why?”

“Because it is completely unnecessary, you idiot. I have been in love with you for ages.”

Time seemed to stop. Jack stared at you, certain he’d misheard. “What?”

You came to a stop in front of him. “I’ve loved you for months, probably longer. I just didn’t think that you would ever…that you could ever…”

The rest of your sentence was lost as Jack pulled you forward into his arms, one hand coming up to cradle your face. His thumb traced your lips as your eyes searched his. He leaned in, giving you every chance to pull away.

You didn’t.

His lips found yours hesitantly at first, then with growing certainty as you responded. He laughed against your mouth as you turned and sat sideways in his lap. When he finally pulled back completely, the first thing he noticed was your wide smile and the joy in your eyes.

The second was, that for the first time in weeks—in six years really—he could finally, simply, breathe.

You met him during routine business at one of his father’s companies, neither of them having any idea of your connection with Mr. Le Bail. That had been the point.

Damien had literally run into you in the lobby, an encounter—he told you later—that he had arranged, not sure how else to get your attention but desperately needing to talk to you. He’d pulled out all the stops, wining and dining you at all the best places. Whisking you away for weekend trips in various exotic locations.

None of it impressed you. How could it? But still you stayed. Continued to see him. Let him romance you. Perhaps, he was just that charming. Or perhaps, you were just that lonely.

You kept your true self hidden. Gave no indication you were anything but a wealthy heiress. Didn’t hint at your connection with Le Bail. You met his family, all smiles and warm welcomes. You didn’t trust it for a minute.

Sol joined you for dinner one night eight months into the relationship.

“He asked you to marry him.” It was a statement not a question.

You weren’t surprised they knew. You pursed your lips as you leaned back in your chair and sipped your wine. “He did.”

“You made him forget.” Amusement flashed in your oldest friend’s eyes. “Care to tell me why?”

“Because I’m not certain that he’s my choice.”

Sol arched a brow. “Then why waste your time with him?”

“I am not wasting my time,” you said and huffed with annoyance. “There’s something about him that doesn’t sit right. He’s hiding something.”

He hummed in agreement. “I’m certain he is. Is this why he knows literally nothing about you?” The knowing tone in his voice irritated you. Smug bastard.

You ran a hand down your face before pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. You rarely smoked unless it was to irritate others but this situation called for it. “I want a companion, Sol. Someone that sees me for who I am and still wants to wake up with me every morning for the rest of our lives. I’m not certain Damien Richards is up to the task.”

Sol stood, smoothing out his jacket as he did so. “Our benefactor suggests you pay your would be fiancé a visit. Tonight.”

Oh.

Well, that couldn’t mean anything good.

Rather than announce your presence by arriving via the front door, you appeared in the corner of Damien’s bedroom. He didn’t notice your entrance, too wrapped up in the redhead currently sucking his cock. Or maybe it was the blonde whose tits he was fondling. You weren’t hurt. You were angry, which answered any lingering questions you had about your feelings for the vermin.

You tilted your head and observed for a beat longer before snapping your fingers. The two women exploded in a satisfying rain of blood. The crimson liquid coated your ex’s naked form, drenching the bed around him. Blood dripped from his face and he sucked in a surprised breath before he screamed. When he continued to scream, pausing only to breathe, you snapped your fingers to keep the sound contained to the room.

The Lawyer appeared in the doorway, book in hand, as he surveyed the room in front of him. His gaze found you, taking a moment to assess your well-being. Apparently realizing you weren’t emotionally compromised, he turned back to face the bed. “Unfortunate.”

You hummed in agreement and moved to stand beside him. Damien quit screaming as he tracked the movement. His brow furrowed as he saw you beside The Lawyer looking like you belonged there.

“What do you wish to do? He is leaving the matter to your discretion,” Sol said.

“Is he now?” you asked, pleased but not entirely surprised. There were benefits to being the devil’s favorite.

“Yes. The family knew. They intended to have you sign over your assets and be rid of you whether there was a hunt or not. Though they were hoping for the hunt.” His voice was even, bored, as he explained the treachery of the Richards family.

You couldn’t blame them, you supposed. They were part of a devil worshipping cult and had no idea who you really were, but you didn’t care. And evidently neither did Mr. Le Bail. They would have been in for a rather nasty surprise on your wedding night had they attempted to sacrifice you. Well, you wouldn’t want to disappoint.

“They wished for a hunt. We should give them one.”

“Quite,” he agreed. “He’ll do nicely.”

“M-Me? You’re going to hunt me? You can’t do this. Do you have any idea who I am? I rule the world. I’ll have your head, you stupid—” Damien shouted, stopping only when you waved a hand, knocking him unconscious.

“And the rest of the family?” The Lawyer asked.

“Well, we do need a reason for the hunt.” Your tone was indifferent, matter of fact.

“Are you certain? Nathaniel Richards holds the high seat.” His tone matched yours almost exactly. One would have thought you were discussing the weather as opposed to the destruction of an entire bloodline.

“They knew what he was up to. They should have known I wasn’t to be trifled with regardless of who they thought I was.” You sighed. “Though I suppose I should ask permission for this one.”

He shook his head once. “Your discretion for all of them, he said.”

“Oh.” You blinked once in surprise before smiling and rubbing your hands together. “In that case, blood or fire?”

He tilted his head to the side in thought. “Fire would be easier to explain.”

You snapped your fingers again and screams drifted to you from deeper in the house. Those in public would find themselves with combustion issues of their own later in the day. Unlike Le Bail, you preferred less questions, all things considered.

You grabbed Damien’s wrist and the three of you disappeared.

The Danforths agreed to host the hunt with no questions. After all, their property was extensive and they were loyal enough to do as The Lawyer asked with no stipulations.

Once the families had gathered, you sat in the corner while Sol stood in front of them, prepared to reveal why they had been called.

“Who is she?” Chester Danforth asked, his father telling him to be silent almost immediately after.

You turned your head to look at him. When you just continued to stare, he fidgeted in his seat and turned his attention back to the front.

“As everyone is here, we can now begin,” The Lawyer said.

“What about Richards?” Harold Wilkinson said with a sneer. “Or are we not waiting for the High Seat?”

“The Richards family violated their contract. You will be hunting the remaining member. Whoever kills him, wins the seat.”

There was a stunned silence before everyone started speaking at once, drowning each other out. Sol held up his hand and they immediately fell quiet.

“We will follow the rules of a traditional hunt. If for any reason the eldest member of the family becomes incapacitated, the next in line will enter the field. Etcetera, etcetera. Any questions?”

“How did they violate their contract?” Wilkinson asked.

Sol met your gaze ever so briefly, the edges of his lips lifting slightly. “They conspired against one of his favored.”

There was a beat of silence before Le Domas asked, “Who are we hunting?”

“Damien Richards, the eldest son.”

“And if he lasts until dawn?” Chester asked.

Sol opened his mouth to answer but you beat him to it.

“He won’t.”

Your friends eyes sparked with mirth. “My…associate will be on the field. Do try not to injure her.”

“She’s not one of the families. What are the consequences if we do?” Chester. Again. Well, he was a curious thing, wasn’t he?

“She’ll get rather cross.”

Your lips curled into a smirk as you stood. “If you’ll excuse me. I have prey to prepare.”

Damien lasted longer than you thought he would, but you couldn’t say that you were disappointed. It was just that much longer for him to live in fear. The fact you kept appearing and disappearing from his line of sight wasn’t helping his paranoia. This was the most fun you’d had in ages.

You’d also had the opportunity to watch Chester Danforth ambush his father and take the chance to be rid of him. He left the field only long enough to sign the book then he was back.

“I like him,” Le Bail whispered in your ear.

“You would.”

A low chuckle was the only response.

You had appeared before Damien, taunting him again, when white hot pain lanced through your abdomen. Your hand pressed against your sudden injury and came back soaked red with blood.

Chester Danforth stepped into the clearing, moving his weapon from you to Damien. “He’s my kill. Not yours. Mine.” And then he placed a bullet between the other man’s eyes.

Chester Danforth had just won the high seat.

“You shot me,” you said finally, your tone a mixture of disbelief and fury.

“And yet, you’re still standing. I didn’t anticipate that.” He turned his ancient weapon in your direction again.

You snarled and flames danced in your eyes. “Take your prey or die with him, Chester Danforth. We’ve had one hunt. We can always have another.”

He backed away from you so fast that he tripped over his own feet. His eyes never left you as his hands scrabbled for purchase on his prize. Stayed locked on you as he dragged the larger man from the trees and into the open where his kill could be proclaimed.

“Asshole,” you muttered only to hear that low chuckle again. “Oh, fuck you, too.”

“My father shot you?” Titus asked in stunned disbelief.

The two of you were laying in bed in your hut on the water. You curled into Titus’ side, head on his chest while your fingers traced absent shapes on his skin. His arms were wrapped around you while he pressed the occasional kiss to your head.

“He did.”

He pulled back slightly to look down at you. “Where? Show me,” he demanded, frantic as if you’d just been shot rather than merely recounting the tale.

You rolled to the side and pointed at the unblemished flesh where the injury had been. Titus ran his fingers gently across your skin. “Nothing.”

You shook your head and returned to your original position. “There wouldn’t be. It healed almost instantly.”

Titus knew that weapon. Knew the damage it could do. His sister had been using it for most of their lives. It should have torn your insides to shreds. Not for the first time, he thanked Mr. Le Bail for his blessings when it came to you.

“And he didn’t remember you because…”

You shrugged. “Le Bail protects his own. None of them remembered me once the hunt was completed.”

His hand found yours and he linked your fingers together. His mind raced as he thought of everything you had told him. Of the trip the two of you were taking at the end of the week. Of the box hidden in the back of his drawer.

“Marry me.” The words slipped out before he could stop them. This was not how he intended to ask you. He had a plan.

You jerked back to look at him, eyes running over his face. “Are you serious?”

“Absolutely.”

“Is this because I scared the shit out of your father?”

He laughed and patted your back with his free hand. “Let me up, princess.”

You rolled your eyes at the nickname that had been Sol’s suggestion, telling Titus only “It’s fitting.”

You moved back, gaze never leaving him as he rolled out of the bed and headed to the dresser. He opened the second drawer down on his side and moved the clothes aside to retrieve the small velvet box tucked in the back corner.

He returned to the bed and sat with one leg folded, the other hanging off the side. Opening the box, he took out the ring and held it out to you. You plucked it from his fingers and examined it before looking back to him, a question in your eyes.

“I had a plan involving more clothing and me on one knee, but I don’t want to wait any longer.” If he was being honest, he’d admit it was a visceral reaction to hearing that you’d been shot with a weapon that should have killed you. “Say yes. Please.”

You hesitated just long enough that he started to panic. Then a wide grin covered your face and you slid the ring onto your finger. “It would be my honor to be your wife, Titus.”

He surged forward, pressing his lips to yours as he laid on top of you. Your laughter filled the air.

The decision was made to deliver the news to Chester in person. Titus had suggested a phone call. Maybe after the wedding. You’d insisted on the in person meeting with that little smile that said you knew more than you were letting on. So, the two of you headed to Rhode Island and the main family estate. Ursula was also in residence. Fantastic.

Once the two of you had placed your things in Titus’ room, he was ready to head to his father’s office. He just wanted this conversation out of the way. He linked his fingers with yours to pull you toward the door but you stopped him.

“You should do this on your own,” you told him as you patted his chest.

He blinked once. Twice. You were the one that insisted on this and now you were abandoning him to deal with his family on his own? “No.”

You smiled before kissing the corner of his mouth. “You’ll be fine. Trust me?”

“Always.” And because he did, he left you behind and made his way to his father’s study. He entered without knocking as he’d been expected since he stepped foot on the property. “Father. Ursula.”

“Titus. What are you doing here with that woman?” His father sat behind his desk, Ursula standing beside him with her hands clasped in front of her.

“That woman is my fiancée,” Titus answered with a small smile.

“Excuse me?” Fury threaded through his father’s words.

“My fiancée. The future Mrs. Danforth. So on and so forth.”

Chester slammed his fist onto the desk. Ursula startled and took a step away from him. “I won’t have it.”

“I’m afraid that’s not up to you. The union has already been approved by Mr. Le Bail.” At least that’s what you told him. And it wasn’t as if Chester could call up the devil and ask.

His father stood and Ursula stepped around the desk to put more distance between them. She was rarely the target of their father’s rage but she was smart enough to stay the fuck out of the way.

“I won’t stand for this defiance,” his father said. “I am the head of the council. I will contact The Lawyer and see that this engagement is dissolved at once.”

Titus stared at him for a moment and then he laughed. The sound was quiet at first, more of a chuckle than anything but quickly grew. “Oh, I wouldn’t do that, father. You have no idea what happens to those that get in her way.”

“Is that a threat?” Ursula snapped, taking Chester’s side as always.

Titus cut off his laughter and turned his gaze to her. “If needs be.”

She raised her arm to slap him as she had so many times before. Titus didn’t move to stop her but a voice coming from the chair in the corner of the room that had been empty moments before did.

“Don’t.” Your voice was ice cold, and Titus would swear that the temperature in the room dropped with it.

Ursula’s confused expression quickly morphed into fear when she shifted her gaze to find you sitting in the chair, legs crossed.

“How did you get in here? Who do you think—”

“Father.” Ursula’s voice held a barely detectable tremor as she moved back to stand beside him. “Perhaps we should simply congratulate Titus on his forthcoming nuptials.”

Ah. Ursula had been the one to talk to the others then, the families that you’d visited. The ones who had seen their own glimpses of who you were.

You moved to stand beside Titus, cigarette hanging from your lips. He pulled out a lighter and offered you the flame. You stared at Chester as you lit the end. And, for just a moment, his father looked horrified and Titus knew you’d shown him a flash of your true nature. The next moment his father shook it off, obviously convincing himself the flames in your eyes were merely a reflection from the lighter.

You took a deep pull of your cigarette and blew out the smoke before speaking. “By all means, call The Lawyer. I’m sure he has a few things to clarify for you.”

Titus’ lips twitched before he gave into a smile at the sight of his terrified sister and furious father. This went better than he could have hoped. He took your free hand in his and headed for the door. “We’re only here for the night, father. We’ll take dinner in our room.”

When you stepped into the hall, Titus spun you and pressed your back against the wall as he leaned into you. His lips brushed yours as he spoke. “I love you, princess. I should have known you’d have my back.”

You smiled against his mouth. “You’re mine now, Titus. You’ll never be alone again.”

Unfortunately for his ego, it was you that made the first move, writing your number on his coffee cup one day when he was in a rush. He didn’t even notice it until a couple of hours later. He’d called you that evening and asked you out for his next day off. You’d agreed immediately. When he got off the phone, he’d placed another call setting up what he hoped would be a first date you’d never forget.

Brett picked you up early, both of you used to those early morning hours. When he pulled up in front of a large private home, you turned to him in obvious confusion. “What are we doing here?”

He smiled wide in anticipation of the surprise he had in store for you. “You’ll see. Stay put,” he told you as he climbed out of his truck. He went around to your side to open your door, offering you a hand to help you out.

You gave him a brilliant smile. “Thank you.”

When you started for the front door, Brett took your hand in his to lead you around the side of the house. Once you arrived at the gate, he told you to close your eyes.

You just looked at him for a moment before sighing and doing as instructed. He opened the gate before lacing his fingers with yours to lead you through. He led you a few steps further before releasing your hand. “Okay. Open.”

The gasp you gave when you opened your eyes had him smiling again. His gaze never left you as you turned in a slow circle to take in the beauty around you. The house was owned by an old friend of his who had the most amazing garden Brett had ever seen. Flowers in every color of the rainbow sat amongst lush greenery, lining walkways that all met at a gazebo in the center where Brett had already set up breakfast before he came to pick you up.

“This is amazing.” Your voice was soft, your appreciation clear.

“I hoped you’d like it.”

You faced him then. “Like it? This is incredible. What is this place?”

“Belongs to an old friend of mine. He’s letting us borrow it,” he said with a little shrug.

“For how long?”

He stepped closer to you, liking the shy little smile that curved your lips at his proximity. “For as long as we want.” He laced his fingers with yours again and lifted your hand to place a kiss on the back of it. “I’ll give you the tour later, but first, breakfast. Don’t want it to get cold. Well, colder.”

You closed the small distance remaining between the two of you. Brett swallowed hard as his eyes traced the lines of your face, looking for some indication of what you were up to.

“You know, this looks like the perfect place for a first kiss.” Your voice was breathy and he swore he could feel your pulse racing where your wrists touched.

The corner of his lips twitched. “Funny. I was thinking the same thing.”

You sat on the edge of your bed and scrolled through the texts on your phone. You’d noticed their responses to your texts getting shorter if they weren’t being ignored completely. As you scrolled you realized you were always the one that initiated the conversation, always sent the first message. Maybe you were just annoying them.

All of you had your own rooms, but you were used to them climbing into bed with you or dragging you into their rooms to sleep with them. Jack hadn’t been getting home until midmorning and Robby was closer to midnight some nights. You were already at work in the home office by the time Jack arrived home but he hadn’t popped his head in to say hello once. Hadn’t found you to say goodbye. You’d tried to stay up for Robby one night and woke up on the couch shivering in the chill at the two in the morning, telling you he hadn’t even noticed. A quick glance in his room showed him passed out in his bed. You could have crawled in with him, with either of them, but you weren’t certain they wanted you to anymore.

The last time you’d seen them, Robby had just seemed irritated that you were in his space and Jack hadn’t listened to a word you said before saying “That’s nice, sweetheart. I’m gonna get some sleep.”

So, you decided to stop. Stop messaging them first, stop seeking them out at home, just stop. The days passed and they didn’t seem to notice. You continued taking care of them for a few days, leaving food to make sure they ate, washing their scrubs, etc. You knew these back to back shifts were hard on them but you were hurting mentally and physically and just so, so tired. You knew you should talk to them, make them see you, but you didn’t want to burden them with anything else.

So, you called your best friend and packed your things, biting back your tears as you walked out the door.

Jack was the first to notice that something was wrong.

He came home just after ten from an extended shift. The house was quiet but that wasn’t out of the norm as you shut yourself up in your office to work. He opened the microwave and frowned at finding it empty. You always left them something, worried they wouldn’t eat unless you fed them. He checked the fridge only to find it devoid of a meal as well. Maybe you were annoyed that he hadn’t eaten the meals the last couple of days, grabbing something at work to combat the hollow feeling in his stomach during his long shifts. He grabbed a protein shake, too tired to do anything else.

As he headed for his bedroom, he paused outside your office, hesitating, wanting to see you, wondering if perhaps you hadn’t been up to cooking today. When your condition flared, you didn’t feel like doing much of anything. But if that was the case, you were more likely to be curled up on the couch. He sighed and eventually moved on without knocking. He didn’t want to bother you just to say hello and goodnight. After a shower, he had just enough energy left to collapse into his bed and crash, far too exhausted to realize it was Saturday and you shouldn’t be working at all.

When he woke a few hours later, he went looking for you, wanting to apologize for not eating the meals you’d undoubtedly left him. Besides, he just missed you. These long shifts were killing him. You didn’t answer his gentle knock at your office or bedroom doors. A glance in the garage showed your car was gone. He looked in the kitchen to find no note. He frowned. None of this was like you. He glanced at the time and cursed under his breath. He couldn’t worry about it now. Half an hour later found him standing by the hub talking to Robby.

“I’m telling you man, something’s not right,” Jack said.

Robby huffed. “Why because she didn’t make you breakfast? Maybe she just forgot.”

“Okay, but she didn’t leave a note. She always leaves a note. She knows we worry.”

Dana looked between them as they talked wondering how two incredibly intelligent men could be so fucking stupid. You’d been in her guestroom for two days now and they were just noticing something was up? No wonder you left their asses. Idiots. She made a sound of disgust.

Both men’s heads snapped in her direction. “What?” they asked in unison.

She arched one brow and pursed her lips. “Nothing. Don’t mind me.”

Robby and Jack turned to look at one another and reassess. Dana was your best friend. If she was pissed off at them, that meant you were as well. Shit. “Okay, well what did she say the last time you talked to her?”

“I think she told me to have a good shift,” Jack said with a frown, pulling out his phone. That had been five days ago and he’d responded with a terse thanx. “Uh, Mike, when’s the last time she texted you?”

He pulled out his phone to find much the same scenario as Jack. You usually texted them multiple times a day just to let them know you were thinking of them. “Oh.”

Jack raked his hand through his hair. “Okay, okay. Did anything seem off when you saw her?”

Robby shook his head. “I’ve been too tired when I get home to do anything but shower and crawl in bed. My bed. Figured she’d come to my room if she wanted.”

Jack’s brain short circuited and he froze. “Michael, when is the last time you physically laid eyes on our girlfriend?”

Robby sighed and ran a hand down his face. “I don’t know. Earlier this week? I’ve just been so fried I haven’t been seeking her out. What about you? What’s she been like with you?”

“I haven’t seen her either.” His voice was quiet, worried.

Robby’s gaze sharpened. “Like since when?”

Jack bowed his head as he thought. “Jesus. It’s been a week. At least. She sat at the table with me while I ate but I was too tired to even process what she was saying. I didn’t stress about it because I figured she had you.”

“And I was the same way. Fuck.” Robby’s eyes went wide and he pressed the heels of his hands against his forehead. “Fuck!”

Dana hummed in acknowledgment of their idiocy.

Jack turned to her immediately. “She’s obviously said something to you. What did she say? How mad is she?”

She glanced over the top of her glasses, entirely unimpressed. “Since when has that ever worked with me, Jack Abbot? You want to know how mad she is, try talking to her. If she’ll listen. I’m going home. You two better get your shit together.”

Handoff with Lena complete, Dana grabbed her things and headed out the door without looking back, Robby and Jack’s eyes trailing her as she went.

“Oh, our girl must be furious,” Robby muttered.

“Yeah,” Jack agreed, swallowing the lump in his throat.

Robby left his shift when he was supposed to for the first time in two weeks. This matter with you was more pressing. Your car was still gone. He knocked at your office out of habit as he opened the door. Everything you needed for work was gone. Shit. His footsteps carried him quickly down the hall. He threw open the door to your bedroom to find a neatly made bed. Your suitcase and a large amount of your clothes were missing.

Robby pulled out his phone, nearly dropping it in his haste. He called Jack who answered immediately. “Is she home?”

“She’s gone, Jack.” Robby’s voice broke on the words. “Her office is empty. Half of her clothes are gone.”

“Shit,” Jack said. “Trauma’s coming in. See if you can reach her.”

Robby tried to call first. You sent the call to voicemail three times before he gave up.

Next, he sent you a text. Baby please pick up the phone. I want to talk to you. I need to make sure you’re alright.

I’m fine, came not even a minute later.

He heaved a sigh of relief. At least you responded. I don’t think you are. Please talk to me.

You haven’t cared if you talked to me in weeks. Why should now be any different?

God, you always knew exactly what to say to make your point in the sharpest way possible. Please. He didn’t know what else to say.

I moved out two days ago. You didn’t even notice.

Two days? That can’t be true surely. Jesus. He knew you well enough to know that he and Jack had been horribly wrong. You weren’t pissed. You were hurt. That was so much worse. They’d hurt you. They were going to lose you and they’d deserve it.

I don’t know what I can say to that. There’s no excuse for it. I’m sorry. I love you. I love you so much.

Okay. Goodnight Michael.

No, no, no. That couldn’t be your response. This couldn’t be the end of everything. What the fuck had they done?

Baby please. Just meet us at least. Let us sit down and talk about this. Please.

The two of you will never have the time for that. I can say yes but it will never happen so why bother. I’m done talking.

Please talk to me.

Please don’t leave us.

I love you.

Just give us a chance

All four messages were left on read.

Jack tried next.

Robby hadn’t told him how things had gone until handoff, not wanting Jack to dwell on it all night. While part of him understood Robby’s reasoning, the rest of him was pissed off. If he’d known, maybe he could have gotten you to respond. It wasn’t logical, you weren’t any more likely to talk to him than Robby but Jack couldn’t just give up.

He sent the first text as he walked to the truck.

Honey I am so sorry. Please talk to us.

He tossed his phone on the passenger seat. When he pulled in the drive, he was disappointed to find no response.

I love you. I miss you.

He took a shower to scrub the day away. When he got out, he found that you had responded to his texts with a link. He clicked on it and was taken to a local housekeeping service that did cleaning and laundry. His brows snapped together and a muscle twitched in his jaw.

What’s that?

Figured that’s what you were missing. You can probably find someone to make meals for you too. Or doordash.

Jack scowled. What the fuck? I don’t give a shit about any of that. I miss you. I want you. Not some fucking maid service. Why would you think that?

Are you telling me that you didn’t notice stuff wasn’t getting done before you noticed you hadn’t seen me? It’s been days Jack. Days.

Look I know things haven’t been ideal lately. Mike and I have both been working more than we should have. We just have to get through this and then things will go back to normal.

I don’t want normal.

What?

When was the last time either of you texted me first? Took me on a date? It was a long time before the flu.

Jack frantically scrolled through his texts knowing you had to be wrong. The two of you talked all the time. Another message from you came through.

You just got off shift. You should get some sleep. Goodbye Jack.

Jesus fucking Christ. Now he understood what Robby had been talking about. You were talking like this was over. He wasn’t ready for this to be done. Didn’t think he would ever be.

I’m fine Honey. I’m worried about you and hating myself for fucking this up.

I can’t do this anymore Jack. Not right now.

He tried to text you two more times before switching to phone calls. The third time he called he went straight to voicemail. He raked a hand through his hair and tossed his phone on the bed before dropping back to lay flat. He pressed the heels of both hands against his eyes. How the fuck were they going to fix this?

Two days passed of them trying to call or text and getting no further response from you. They’d managed to learn from Dana that you were staying with her and were ‘doing just fine. Now fuck off’. Jack and Robby stood at the hub just before seven going over the schedule, trying to figure out who would be willing to shift around so they could head over to Dana’s together to beg for forgiveness.

Dana hurried through the bay doors and made her way straight to them. Both of them turned at her unusual behavior. “What’s up with you?” Robby asked.

“I need you both to behave like fucking adults or I’ll get Gloria down here,” she snapped.

Jack’s brows shot up. “Who pissed in your cornflakes?”

“Stow it, Abbot.” She glanced over her shoulder, eyes scanning the department. “Whitaker, grab a chair. Patient being dropped off in the bay.”

Both men straightened at that. “Dana,” Robby said drawing out the word.

She pursed her lips and sighed. “She’s been in a flare for days. Meds triggered an intractable migraine. Neuro told her to come here.”

“Is she okay?” Robby asked then immediately said, “Don’t answer that. Stupid question.”

“How long?” Jack asked already heading for the doors.

She huffed out a breath knowing they weren’t going to like the answer. “Three days.”

Jack stopped and turned back. “Three fucking days? And she’s just now coming in?”

“I can’t imagine why she would be hesitant.” Dana rolled her eyes as she moved past him to meet Whitaker at the door.

“What’s open, Lena?” she called over her shoulder.

“Five is all yours.”

Robby and Jack froze as you were wheeled inside. You had an icepack pressed over your eyes, the elbow of the hand holding it resting on the arm of the chair. You were curled in on yourself and had an empty bucket in your lap. Dana shot them a look as she pushed you past them and into your room.

As much as they wanted to invade the room, to check on you themselves, they waited. Dana emerged nearly twenty minutes later. “I’ve got her in a gown and got an IV started for fluids. She’s checked in and waiting for a doctor. She said you can come in.”

They stepped forward and she held up a hand. “Don’t upset her or I’ll kick your ass.”

Entering the room quietly, their eyes immediately fell on you. You were curled on your side, icepack still laying on your head. They split, each one taking a different side of the bed. Jack sat on a stool and wheeled it to your side, clasping your hand in his. You sucked in a breath at the contact and immediately started to sob.

Robby had pulled a chair up on your other side, placing a heavy hand on your back. “Shh, baby. It’s okay.”

Jack touched the icepack to find it warm. He moved it aside so he could see your eyes. He wiped away your tears with his thumb. “Why are you crying, honey?”

“It hurts.” You practically whimpered the words. “It hurts so bad. Nothing is helping.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” he said.

Before he could say anything else, Dana came back into the room hands full. She sat the tray full of medication aside and hung a bag of saline to run into your IV. “Doc Reynolds sent in the order for a cocktail.”

“What’s he giving her?” Robby asked as he put on his glasses and headed over to the computer.

Dana ignored him and started filling syringes with meds.

“Well?” Jack asked.

Robby glanced over with a frown. “Toradol, Reglan, Zomig, and Decadron.”

“Jesus.” Jack watched Dana inject the drugs into your IV. “Must be particularly stubborn, huh?”

Another tear ran down your face in answer.

Dana glanced at Robby. “You working or calling someone in?”

Robby ran a hand down his face. “Shit. Yeah. I’ll take care of it.”

She nodded and moved to the computer to make her notes.

Robby went back to your side and kissed your temple. “I’ll be back, sweetheart. Just let me get things settled out there.”

“I need to do handoff,” Jack said, looking between you and Robby.

You turned away from him, careful not to tangle your IV. “I’m fine. Just go.”

The pain in your voice pierced through him. “Honey—”

“Go!” you yelled then winced.

Dana’s gaze snapped over to Jack. “You heard her. Out.”

When he hesitated, she said, “Now.”

“We’ll be back,” he said at the door, turning back to look at you. Dana had her hand resting on the side of your face, talking to you in a low tone. He sighed and left the room, sliding the door shut behind him.

“I feel like we just failed a test,” Robby said, voice tired.

“Yeah.”

You didn’t want to be a bitch, to be unreasonable. You knew your temper was shorter because of your migraine, because of the pain that you had been drowning in for days. The truth was you’d been in a flare for two weeks at this point. You’d been careful with your meds but eventually they’d caused the headache you’d had since you left their house. Stress undoubtedly playing a large part in both the flare and the migraine. You’d only admitted to it three days ago. If Dana knew you were going on five days, she’d beat your ass.

But you’d told the neuro the truth. He’d told you if the cocktail didn’t work, they’d have to admit you for stronger meds. You knew that of course, this wasn’t your first trip to the hospital for a stubborn migraine, but you hated it. All you’d wanted from the beginning was to curl up with one of your men and let them take care of you.

You missed them and they always seemed to make everything better. Well, they used to. It’s why you’d told Dana they could come into the room. You’d hoped they’d choose you. Take care of you. Prioritize you. But once again the Pitt won.

It wasn’t rational. They needed to do their jobs. They were attending physicians. Lives literally hung in the balance. But you didn’t want to be rational. You were tired of always being understanding. Of always letting yourself take a back seat. You were tired of always being the second choice.

Your heart ached when you thought about how long it took for them to even notice you were gone. They didn’t need you. Didn’t want you. Not really. You’d been crippled with pain for days and they hadn’t known, hadn’t cared. Had never once asked how you were doing. Dana had told you that you could stay as long as you wanted but you knew you were wearing out your welcome. No one wants a permanent houseguest.

You wondered how much money was in your savings. You didn’t check the balance often as you were afraid you’d spend it, so you left it and just added to it when you could. You’d need enough for a deposit and first and last month’s rent. Jesus, you hated apartment hunting. Hated apartments. You’d gotten used to the quiet neighborhood where you lived now. You didn’t want to think about it right now, it certainly wasn’t helping your headache.

Your head had that floaty feeling that told you the meds were working. Your thoughts were a little slow and time passed in weird increments but you were still aware.

Dana popped back in after almost an hour had passed. “How you doing, doll?”

“It’s definitely better, but it still hurts.”

She pulled you up on the computer. “Instructions here for another round. After that…”

“Yeah, I know.”

She patted your leg. “I’m going to get you some more fluids and something to drink. Need anything else?”

“Another icepack?”

“Sure. I can do that.” Her gaze ran over you as she crossed her arms over her chest. “They’ve stationed themselves in the hallway, you know.”

You frowned at her. You’d assumed they were working. Hell, Jack might have gone home for all you knew. “What?”

“I told them they couldn’t come back in, not after they made you cry.”

“They didn’t. I was crying because it hurt.”

She hummed in agreement. “And then you were crying because they told you they had to go back to work.”

“That’s not their fault.”

“It is. If they didn’t keep picking this place over you, you would be more understanding when they didn’t have a choice. And that’s okay. You’re allowed to be upset. They fucked up.” She sighed. “But they love you. And you miss them. That’s okay too.”

Another tear ran down your cheek.

“Do you want me to send them in?” Her voice had taken on that mom tone of hers that always made you feel comforted.

“Yes, please.”

She nodded once and patted your leg again. She stepped past the curtain and out the door. You heard her say, “I’m getting another bag of fluids. She needs water and an icepack. I’ll let you deliver them. Don’t upset her.” Then she shut the door.

Jack appeared first, cup of water with a straw in hand. “Just chilled. Don’t want to shock your system.”

“Thanks.” You licked your lips before leaning forward to take a sip. You hadn’t realized how dry your mouth was until then.

He sat it on the table when you finished, his hazel eyes running over you. His hands gripped the railing. “How are you feeling? You look better.”

“Still hurts but it’s better. Dana’s bringing me more drugs in a bit.”

Before he could respond, Robby came into the room. “Hey, sweetheart. One icepack as requested.” He snapped it to activate it and kneaded it before handing it over. You pressed it to the back of your neck with a sigh.

“Here,” he said and folded your pillow so it would keep the icepack pressed where you wanted without you having to hold it. Your eyes closed in relief.

“Where are you at on the pain scale?” Robby asked as his fingers found your pulse on your wrist.

You huffed out a breath without opening your eyes. “Already have a doctor, Robinavitch. If you’re going to stay, you can’t doctor me.”

You could feel him wanting to argue without looking at him. Could practically feel it vibrating under his skin.

“Okay,” he said instead, hand shifting to lay on yours instead.

You opened one eye to look at him in disbelief.

A small laugh fell from his lips and he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Honey, I would do about anything you asked to keep you talking to me.”

You hummed and closed your eye. They settled to either side of you, each of them holding one of your hands. Jack kissed the back of the one he held, then Robby kissed the inside of your wrist on the other. Your lips twitched in amusement.

“You can talk. I meant it when I said I was feeling better. Another dose should kill it completely.”

“I’m going to lecture about one thing, then I’ll shut up,” Jack said.

You cracked your eyes to look at him.

“I don’t care how upset you are with us, you don’t wait three days to come to the hospital when you’re hurting like this.”

Your nose wrinkled before you could stop it. Damn it.

Robby’s gaze immediately narrowed. “How long?”

“It started before I even left the house.”

“What?” Jack snapped, the sharpness in his tone making you wince. “Sorry, sorry,” he immediately apologized, rubbing your hand with his thumb.

“Your doctor know that?” Robby asked.

“Yes.”

You could tell there was so much he wanted to say but he simply nodded once and said, “Okay.”

“I kinda like the you that’s trying to stay in my good graces,” you said. Guilt flashed through his eyes but you couldn’t bring yourself to feel bad for your words. They’d earned them.

Dana came in and hung another bag of saline. Jack slid out of the way so she could give you the next dose of meds. She looked between the men when neither of them said anything before looking to you in question.

You grinned. “I told them they couldn’t doctor if they wanted to stay.”

She laughed. “Good for you,” she said before putting them out of their misery. “Same meds as last time. If it works, she can go home under supervision. If not, she’s heading upstairs.”

“Thanks, Dana,” Jack said, voice rough with worry.

She gave you a nod and left.

“Don’t you guys need to go back to work?” you asked, trying to keep your voice even.

“Nope.” Robby leaned back in his chair, hand still on yours. “We put in for some of our PTO.”

“And Gloria’s just going to let you do that?”

“She doesn’t have a choice. Told her to get some temps in if she needed,” Robby said. “Neither one of us uses our time. Plus, we’re way over the hours we were supposed to be working the last two weeks.”

Your eyelids began to feel heavy as the new meds swamped your system.

“Hey, open your eyes, baby,” Jack said.

You blinked at him.

“This round working? Can we take you home?”

“Yeah, Jack. Take me home.”

You weren’t certain how much time passed before you became aware of your surroundings again. As you blinked away the slumber, you realized you were in Robby’s bed. Huh. At least you weren’t in the hospital. Seeing a glass of water waiting for you on the nightstand, you pushed yourself up on your elbow. You were halfway done downing it when the door opened slightly, Robby’s head popping into the gap. His concerned expression melted into a relieved smile. “Hey, you’re awake.”

You didn’t answer as you finished your water. You felt so dehydrated which was stupid considering how much fluid they’d given you at the hospital. Robby stepped into the room tapping on his phone which he slid back into his pocket when he saw you’d finished the water. He took the cup from you and set it aside. His fingers instantly found your wrist but he paused, “Can I doctor you for a second?”

“Sure,” you said, a smile teasing your lips.

He’d just finished checking your pulse when Jack stepped into the room. His gaze ran over you, assessing before giving you a bright smile. “Hey, baby. How you feeling?”

“Better. Much better.”

“Good.” He held a fresh glass of water out to you. “Mike said you were thirsty.”

“Thank you.” You took a drink then set the glass on the table. Your attention shifted to Robby who sat on the edge of the bed, fingers still on your wrist. “Will I live, doc?”

He nodded his head but didn’t look at you.

You tilted your head with a frown. “Michael, are you okay?”

“I’m sorry.” The words were quiet, broken. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

Your brow furrowed as Jack sighed. “I thought we were going to give her a chance to get her bearings before we got into this.”

Robby sniffed, finally releasing his hold on you only to wipe the moisture from his eyes. “Sorry.”

“Let me go to the bathroom,” you said and Robby hopped up, offering you a hand to help you out. “We’ll talk when I get back.”

You took your time in the other room, taking the chance to wash your face and feel a bit more human. Despite the obvious pain fatigue, you looked better than you had in days. Finally, you took a breath and stepped back into the bedroom. Both men stopped talking as you opened the door and stood from where they’d been sitting on the edge of the bed.

Robby cleared his throat after Jack nudged him. “I’m, uh, sorry about before. I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s fine,” you said, cutting him off. “I’d rather get the conversation out of the way if it’s all the same to you.”

“Oh, thank god,” Jack said, shoulders dropping as tension flowed from him.

You pressed your lips together to keep from snorting a laugh at the incredulous look Robby gave him. He muttered under his breath while he shook his head. He took your hand and led you over to the chair that sat in the corner of the room. “Sit. We have a couple of questions and then several things to say.”

Your gaze moved between the two of them. “Did you practice this or something?”

“Well, you were asleep for almost twenty-two hours,” Jack said.

You were only slightly surprised by that information. The meds always knocked you out. Usually not quite that long but you’d expected it. Jack sat on the edge of the bed in front of you while Robby stayed standing.

“First, Dana said you were in a flare before the headache. How long?” Jack asked.

You sighed, knowing they weren’t going to like the answer. “A couple of weeks.”

“Jesus, sweetheart. Why didn’t you say anything?” Robby said.

“What was I supposed to say? Hey, I know you’re incredibly busy at the hospital right now and barely have time to sleep but could you take care of me?”

“Yes,” Jack said without hesitation. He slid forward on the bed a bit. “That’s exactly what you should have done.”

You rolled your eyes. “Be serious, Jack.”

“I am.”

His tone was so sincere you could do nothing but look at him.

“I don’t know when you started believing that you were less important than us or our jobs, but you are not. And we’re so incredibly sorry for anything we’ve done that made you feel that way,” Robby said.

Hot tears rolled down your face before you could stop them. He swooped in immediately making hushing sounds as he wiped the tears from your cheeks. “Don’t cry, baby. You’ll get another headache.”

You sucked in a breath and tried to regulate your emotions. “I know.”

“Listen,” Jack said. “Mike and I have talked about this. We don’t want to start over. We all have to much history for that. But we do want to prove to you that you’re still our priority if you’ll let us.”

You thought about it for a moment. You loved these men. Yes, they’d hurt you, but there was reason you’d fallen in love with them in the first place. Maybe you all just needed a reminder of what that was. Finally, you nodded. “I’d like that very much.”

And prove themselves they did. They cut their hours, focused on making your relationship a priority. As Robby said, the three of you were hopefully going to be together long after they retired. It wasn’t long before your relationship was stronger than it ever had been. To the point that, though you maintained your own rooms on the off chance you needed the space, you all slept in Robby’s king-sized bed most of the time, whether he was home or not.

“Hey, sweet girl.” His voice was gentle as always, soft. “How are you doing?”

You stared unseeing at the TV. “I’m okay.”

It was the same answer you always gave him. The same lie you told him and yourself every day. Your pain had dulled into something more manageable, but your life was still disrupted, too damaged for you to feel happy with it.

“I was calling because I wanted to see you. Maybe have you over for dinner tomorrow night? I can make your favorite.”

Your grip tightened on the phone as you considered the invitation. “At the house?” you finally asked.

“Yeah.”

“And will Robby be there?”

The silence stretched for a beat, then he said, “That’s the idea.”

“No.” The word came out sharp, irritated.

“No?” He managed to sound almost offended.

“Did I stutter?” You immediately regretted snapping and took a deep breath. “I’m not mad at you. I’m not upset with you. You did nothing wrong. I’m glad you went home and you and Robby made up. But if he wants to fix this, he has to fix it. Not you.”

You could picture him running a hand through his curls, the crease between his eyebrows deepening as he considered his response. “I’m just trying to—”

“Make things easier for him?” you finished for him, though you were positive that wasn’t what he was about to say. “That’s what you do when you love someone. You try to fix things. It’s one of the many things I love about you. But this actually has nothing to do with you. Something you made very clear when you went home. I accepted that and you need to as well. I’m sorry you’re stuck in the middle. If it’s too much, don’t feel like you owe me anything.” The words caught in your throat. “I need to go.”

“Wait—”

You ended the call before he could say anything else and dropped the phone into your lap. You turned off the TV, plunging the room into near-darkness, the only light in the room filtering in from the kitchen. The phone buzzed in your lap. You glanced down to see a text from Jack. I love you. We both do. You didn’t bother responding.

You tried to force your mind to think about anything but Jack telling you he was going home. But Robby’s angry face the last time you’d seen him. But your thoughts kept circling back. What else could you do when your whole world had collapsed but remember the end?

You’d gotten your revenge on Chelsea and her minions, publicly calling them out, making sure everyone knew what they had done. The boys had insisted on celebrating, so you’d sat at Sam’s bar and smiled and laughed at the appropriate moments. But it had all felt hollow. Because at the end of the day, you still went home to an empty apartment. Still woke up in the middle of the night reaching for someone that wasn’t there.

You weren’t angry at Jack for going home. For choosing his partner that he’d been with for years, that knew him more intimately than you could ever hope to. Not really. But sometimes, just sometimes, you wish he’d chosen to stay here with you. That you had been worth even a second’s hesitation on his part. Maybe it was time to just move on from it all.

Robby sat on the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees, head bowed as Jack paced the length of the living room. The call had gone as badly as Robby had feared it might. The silence that followed was thick with tension.

“This is all my fault,” he said finally, dragging a hand down his face. “Sit down, Jack. You’re going to hurt your leg.”

Jack stopped pacing and dropped into one of the chairs. “I shouldn’t have pushed her. We should have known she’d react like this.”

“It’s not your fault. She’s mad at me,” Robby insisted. “I’m the one who fucked up.”

“I knew she wasn’t ready. I just…” Jack sighed. “I miss her, man. I miss the three of us together. I thought if we could just get you two in the same room maybe you could start working things out.”

Robby leaned back. “I know. I was hoping for the same thing. What if I’ve lost her, Jack? What if she never forgives me?”

Jack was quiet for a long moment. “She loves you. I know she does. But what you did…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“I know. I know how bad it is.” Robby closed his eyes, shame washing over him. “I hurt her so badly. I hurt both of you because I was too terrified she would hurt me first.”

“Yeah, you did. But you want to fix it. You’re trying to fix it. That counts for something.”

Robby turned his head to face him. “Not enough, apparently. So, what do I do now if she won’t come over for dinner?”

“You need to show her you’re serious. That you’re willing to put in the work. Hell, we both do at this point. I’m pretty sure she’s no happier with me at the moment,” Jack said.

“So what? Flowers? Candy? Hell, I’ll buy her fucking pony at this point if you think it would help.” The words came out more bitter than Robby had intended.

Jack rolled his eyes. “No ponies. No animals period while we’re on the topic. Gestures. Things that show you’re thinking about her, that you listen to her. The kind of things she always does for us without being asked.” He leaned forward to make sure his partner was really listening. “She loves making people feel seen. That’s why what you did hurt so much. You made her feel invisible. Like everything she thought you knew about her was wrong.”

Robby swallowed hard. He had reduced you to the worst possible version of yourself based on nothing but his own insecurities. “Where do I start?” His voice was little more than a whisper.

“You start with little things. Show her you’re paying attention. That you’re thinking about her. That you’re trying to be better.”

“And then what?” Robby was desperate for a map, instructions that might get him back to where he’d been before he threw it all away.

Jack shrugged. “Then you hope it’s enough to get her to give you the chance to do the big things.”

“And if it’s not?”

“Then you keep trying.”

The knock came just after eight in the morning. You were already up and drinking your second cup of coffee. Sleep had been restless as of late, and you’d rolled out of bed just after five when it became clear you weren’t getting anymore rest. You grabbed Jack’s hoodie draped over the back of a chair and slid it on as you headed for the door. Through the peephole, you saw a delivery person holding a large bouquet of flowers. Your heart did that traitorous leap again as you opened the door.

The woman said your name and once you’d confirmed, handed over a massive arrangement of spring flowers. The scent of lilacs invaded your senses. “For you.”

“Thanks,” you managed, taking the flowers from her. “Just a second, let me get you a tip.”

She waved you off with a smile. “Already taken care of. Have a nice day.”

You stood in the doorway for a moment, arms full of flowers. You set the bouquet on the counter and searched for a card amongst the blooms. The only thing you found listed only your name and address, no greeting, no message. No apology. You snapped a picture and sent it to Jack. You or Robby?

Mike. Mine will be there later.

You rolled your eyes and set your phone on the counter beside the vase. The flowers were gorgeous, no question, but they meant nothing. Not really. A generic arrangement he could have ordered by calling almost any flower shop in town. A phone call where he’d evidently provided your name, address and his credit card number but couldn’t be bothered with a message.

You received another smaller arrangement of tea roses from Jack that afternoon. Peach and pink along with a lovely message apologizing for the dinner invitation. All of it signed off with an I love you, Jack. You sent a simple thank you text as your gaze turned once more to the arrangement from Robby. You sighed and wandered into the living room to get some work done.

The next morning started the same way, with a knock on the door and a delivery. Breakfast this time. You texted on and off with Jack and had a brief call with him before he started his shift.

Another morning and another knock. This time, when you opened the door, you were surprised to find your landlord. He handed you a piece of paper. “Here.”

You glanced at the paper and frowned. “What is this?”

“Rent’s paid. Three months.”

You blinked, certain you’d misheard. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Your rent. It’s been paid in full for the next three months.” He tapped his fingers on his thigh obviously already done with the conversation.

“By who?” you asked, though you were certain you already knew the answer.

He leaned forward and tapped the paper in your hand. “Says right there. M. Robinavitch.” You tried not to cringe as he horribly butchered the pronunciation of Robby’s name. “The boyfriend, right?”

“Not the boyfriend,” you corrected automatically. “Thanks for letting me know.”

He nodded but was already on his way down the hall. You closed your door and leaned against it, mind racing. “Michael Robinavitch, you’re a fucking idiot.” You grabbed your keys and headed out, pushing the thought from your mind. An apology delivered via money order wasn’t an apology at all.

In the days that followed, you continued to talk with Jack both by call and text. He didn’t mention Robby again, instead simply checking in, asking how you were, filling each other in on your days. Robby, by contrast, remained silent. No calls, no texts. Just more flowers and gifts that never seemed to quit coming. A first edition of your favorite book. A bottle of an expensive whiskey you’d mentioned loving the taste of. A scarf in your favorite color. You accepted them all, used them even. But you didn’t call. Didn’t text. Didn’t acknowledge the gifts in any way. It wasn’t out of spite or anger, not anymore. It was simpler than that. You were waiting. Waiting for the one thing you hadn’t received yet. A sincere apology.

A week after the flowers had arrived, a small package was delivered to your door. It was wrapped in plain brown paper with no shipping label, just your name written across the front in Robby’s distinctive handwriting. You took it inside, staring at it before curiosity won out. You tore open the paper to find a small box. Inside, nestled on a bed of black velvet was a silver chain with a small caduceus symbol.

You lifted it carefully, the metal cool against your fingers. It was beautiful, delicate. Simple but elegant and exactly the kind of thing you liked to wear every day. He certainly knew your taste. It was the kind of gift that showed thought, that acknowledged who you were and what mattered to you. You closed the lid and set the box on the shelf beside your tattoo fund jar that you kept for some reason despite no longer having a need for it. You left the gift there without another glance.

A knock sounded late afternoon of the next day. You’d gotten used to the pattern by now. A knock followed by a delivery with no note. You opened the door without checking the peephole first. Instead of a delivery person, you found a man in a suit holding a manilla envelope. He read your name off the front.

“That’s me,” you confirmed.

He handed you the envelope. No sooner had your fingers closed around it then he snapped a picture with his phone. “Consider yourself served. Have a nice day.”

He didn’t even give you a chance to respond before he turned and walked away. You closed the door and tore into the envelope, having a suspicion of what was inside and you were correct. Your family was suing you for what they felt was their due from your grandfather’s estate. They were alleging undue influence and diminished capacity claiming pops hadn’t been in his right mind when he changed his will to leave everything to you.

Your eyebrow ticked ever higher as you read through the papers. They were claiming you had isolated your grandfather from the rest of the family. That you’d manipulated him into changing the will. That you’d taken advantage of an elderly man’s confusion for your own gain.

Fucking assholes. You headed to the corner where you kept your printer/scanner and fed the papers into it. You called Max as you watched the document feed through the machine. He answered on the third ring.

“As anticipated, I’ve been served. They’re contesting the will.”

There was a moment of silence before he sighed. “I see. They’re stupider than I thought. Was there anything surprising in the filing?”

“Not that I could see. I’m scanning it to send to you as we speak.”

“Good. I’ll read over it and get back to you. Like I said, this is nothing to be concerned about. There were provisions in place for all of this. Your grandfather was thorough.” After a beat, he added, “I am sorry for this, though. You deserve better.”

You hummed in acknowledgement. “The universe seems to disagree with you at the moment. I’ll get this sent to you in just a bit. Thanks, Max.”

Your phone rang just after ten that night, Jack’s name lighting up the screen. You didn’t hesitate to answer, knowing he was at work and likely wouldn’t have long to talk. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself, sweetheart. How are you doing?” His voice was warm, though he sounded tired.

“I’m okay. Just a lot going on.” You had no intention of sharing any details about your grandfather’s estate. Not when they were still unaware you’d even inherited it.

Someone called his name in the background. “Just a minute,” he said before returning his attention to you. “Listen, I just have a second but I was wondering if you wanted to meet for breakfast tomorrow after my shift.”

“Just us?” you asked.

“Yeah. Just me and my girl.”

“Seven thirty at the usual place?” you asked, not even thinking of declining. You’d missed him.

“Sounds great. See you then.”

The diner looked the same as always, not that you’d expected anything different. You’d arrived a little early, content to get in an extra cup of coffee. You just taken the first sip of your second cup when Jack walked in. He’d stripped his scrub top leaving him in cargos and his t-shirt. He looked tired but his face broke into a wide smile when his gaze landed on you.

He pressed a quick kiss to your lips before sliding into the booth across from you, reaching for the menu. How he didn’t have it memorized by now, you had no idea. “Sorry I’m late. Got held up.”

“You’re like five minutes late. I got here early,” you told him.

He nodded, gaze flicking over you, taking you in. “You look tired.”

You huffed a humorless laugh. “Well, I’ve been sleeping like shit so…”

The waitress appeared and took your orders before disappearing once more.

Jack leaned forward slightly. “I miss you.”

Your fingers tightened around your mug. “I miss you too. Both of you, if I’m being honest.”

Something flashed in Jack’s eyes. Hope maybe, or relief. “Mike’s trying. The gifts, the rent, he’s doing everything he can think of to show you he’s sorry.”

You sighed and pushed your mug away from you. This is what you’d been afraid of when you accepted his invitation. It’s why you hadn’t pushed to see him sooner. “No, Jack. He’s trying to buy me. He called me a whore because I took things from you and then slept with you. He’s not going to get me back by spending his money.”

You stood, grabbing your bag from the seat beside you. You stopped at his side of the table and leaned in, pressing your lips to his in a slow, deliberate embrace. When you pulled back, his eyes were wide, a flush creeping across his cheeks.

“I love you, Jack.” Your voice was steady despite the tears threatening at the corners of your eyes. “But this isn’t fair to you. Maybe we should just put all of this on hold for a while.”

You turned to leave but his hand shot out, catching your wrist. His thumb moved in a slow circle against the inside of it, his touch gentle but insistent.

“Don’t do that,” he said, voice low and urgent. “Please don’t do that. I’ll shut up about Mike.”

You looked at his hand on your wrist then back to his face. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

His grip didn’t loosen. “Then stay.”

You hesitated before nodding once. “Scoot.”

He hastily slid over, still holding onto your wrist, not letting go until you settled in the seat beside him. “I didn’t ask you here to talk about him. I asked because I wanted to see you. Because I’ve missed you. Every day without you feels wrong.”

The honesty in his voice had you swallowing a lump in your throat. “I’ve missed you, too. So much.”

When the night came, Jack had offered to drive you but you’d insisted that you were getting ready with Trinity and you’d see them there. You promised you’d go home with them at the end of the night though. It was a small consolation. Where else would you go? You lived with them.

They arrived after Robby’s shift. You and Trinity were both off and you’d arrived a couple of hours ago according to your earlier text. Jack’s eyes scanned the crowd looking for you as they moved toward the bar to get a drink. He found Trinity, then Dennis and a few other familiar faces but where were you? Suddenly, Robby grabbed tightly onto Jack’s arm.

“What?” he asked, slightly alarmed by his boyfriend’s behavior. When he didn’t respond, Jack followed his gaze to you and he understood the reaction immediately. You looked beautiful as always, dressed in a pair of jeans that fit you like a second skin and a plain white shirt. It was the shirt that had drool all but running down Robby’s chin.

You had raided Robby’s side of the closet and stolen one of his dress shirts. Several of the top buttons were undone and you’d tied it off at the waist to show a sliver of skin. You were lucky Robby didn’t have a coronary when he saw you. They both had a thing about seeing you in their clothes and you knew it.

They made their way to where you stood at the bar. Robby placed his hand on your back as he stepped into your space. You leaned into him instinctively and smiled up at him. “Hi, baby.” You turned your head to smile at Jack as well. “Hi handsome.”

He made a show of taking you in from head to toe and licked his lips. “You’re playing dirty, honey.”

You gave him an innocent look neither of them bought for a moment. Robby giving a soft laugh at the gesture. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you said.

“Sure, you don’t, sweetheart,” Robby said in a tone that made it clear he didn’t believe you at all. “You ready to go home?”

Your expression shifted to genuine surprise. “But you just got here. You told Trin you’d have a drink.”

In unison, they reached past you to grab one of the shots you’d undoubtedly ordered for the others. They downed them, placing the empty glasses back on the bar. “One drink, as promised.”

You laughed and shook your head. “That doesn’t count. Don’t you want to hang out for a while?”

Jack pressed against one side while Robby moved closer on the other. “We can stay as long as you want, honey,” Jack said before dropping his voice. “But in half an hour we’re going to have you in nothing but that shirt. We can do that at home or…”

Your eyes went wide as you looked between them. “I’m gonna go say goodbye. Garcia just got here anyway. Trin won’t even notice I’m gone.”

“Good girl.” Jack pulled some money from his wallet and handed it to you. “Tell them to buy a couple of rounds on us.”

You pressed a kiss to both of their cheeks before hurrying back to your friends. “You think that was too much?” Robby asked as they watched you say your farewells.

Jack huffed a laugh. “Our girl loves it.”

Carsen blinked before shrugging and handing the book back to Judson. “Montana it is.”

As he turned to leave, he came face to face with Charlene standing far too close. He jerked back slightly. “Charlene.”

“Flynn.” She handed him a cowboy hat. “For your trip. Keep your receipts.”

He mouthed the last three words along with her and watched her go. When he looked over his shoulder to say something to Judson, he found the man gone as well. “Figures.”

The Montana sun had been punishing and Flynn found himself oddly grateful for the hat that Charlene had given him. At least it protected his face from the worst of it. But now it was night and he was approaching a campfire that was burning quietly in the middle of nowhere. All of his investigation had led him to one woman. You. He’d followed you out here and sincerely hoped he could get the rope off you without much fuss.

He approached slowly, watching his footing to make as little noise as possible. You were sitting with your back against a boulder, dressed head to toe in white with arms crossed over your chest and hat low over your face. You were sleeping. On one side of you sat a lamp glowing softly, which was odd considering the fire. And on the other, less than three feet from you, was the lasso. The faint sheen of it was unmistakable and Flynn wondered what had taken them so long to find it. Where had it been all this time?

If he played his cards right, he could grab it and go with you none the wiser.

Once he moved close enough that his goal was in reach, your voice stopped him. “It’s not nice to take that which doesn’t belong to you, Flynn Carsen.”

Well, that certainly stopped him short. “Do we know each other?”

You pushed the hat back on your head and faced him. Your eyes ran over him from head to toe. “I know you, Librarian. And I believe you know me as well.”

You were stunning. And Flynn was absolutely certain he did not know you. Yours was a face he wouldn’t forget. Couldn’t if he tried. You smiled at what he was certain was his obvious confusion. You rose to your feet effortlessly. Flynn’s brow furrowed as he tilted his head and looked you over. There was not a speck of dust on your white clothing despite your previous position.

You weren’t human. At least not entirely. Oh, this was fascinating. A smile crossed his face before he could stop it. You secured the lasso on your waist and picked up your lantern. “Who are you?” he asked, tone clear that he meant what as much as who.

You gave him an amused smile and for the briefest moment the image of you flickered. You stood in front of him in a flowing white dress, lantern replaced by torch, cowboy hat replaced by a laurel wreath. And suddenly, he knew precisely who you were.

“Veritas,” he breathed the name, in absolute awe of being in your presence. The Roman goddess of truth.

“I haven’t been called that for a very long time. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Flynn Carsen.”

He ran a hand over his mouth then put his hands on his hips as he laughed in disbelief. “Yeah. Yes. I mean, this is amazing. It’s an honor.” He laughed again. “I can’t believe you’re here right now.”

“Well, it wouldn’t make much sense for me to lure you here then leave, would it?”

Flynn did not like the word lure. His smile fell and he cleared his throat. “And why would you wish to see me specifically?”

Your smile turned sharp. “I need an escort to the Library. Judson and I have some…unfinished business.”

“I…yeah, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” What could you possibly want with Judson? And why didn’t you just come to New York? You were a goddess. Surely you knew where the Library was.

“I will bring no harm to him. You have my word.”

He squinted as he tilted his head trying to figure you out. “Why do you need me?”

“Judson hid the Library from me after he stole my scroll.” You sighed and your clothes shifted from all white to a pair of blue jeans and a t-shirt. The etherealness that surrounded you shifted to something more sedate with the change. “My powers are limited without it. I simply want it returned to me.”

Flynn considered what to do. It was too late to call, they never answered when he called after six pm. It was more than possible your scroll had been collected at some point in history, though it was interesting you were naming Judson specifically. There must have been a reason they took it and then hid the Library from you.

“No what? You don’t even know what I was going to say.” Jack crossed his arms over his chest and frowned at his friend.

Robby mirrored his position. “No to the name. Don’t call me Mikey.”

“She calls you Mikey,” Jack said gesturing to you as you turned your focus back to the two of them.

The older man glanced between the two of you. “Yes. That’s her. You’re you.”

Jack scowled. “That’s sexist.”

You huffed a laugh. “Baby, that’s not sexist.”

“Well, it’s prejudice of some kind.”

Robby blinked. “Prejudice against you, maybe.”

Jack nodded his head once as if he’d just had something confirmed he’d been suspecting for some time. “I knew it. It’s Jackism.”

“I…Baby, no.”

He turned to fully face you and pointed at you. “It’s Jackist!”

You pressed your lips together as you staved off a laugh or a scream. It was a toss up at this point. “Jack, I need you to never say that again.”

“No. You all think you can be prejudiced against me, and I won’t stand for it. I will call out every incidence of Jackism I see.”

Usually, the ED continued to function without paying much attention to the two of you. This time you were attracting a bit of a crowd. Jack’s vehemence apparently being something they couldn’t overlook.

“That’s it. You’re grounded,” you announced.

Robby nearly spit out a mouthful of coffee. You patted his back as he coughed.

Jack scoffed. “You can’t ground me.”

“Sure, I can. No TV.”

He shrugged. “I’ll read a book.”

“No SWAT.”

“I’ve been thinking of cutting back anyway.”

You leaned forward and dropped your voice to a hiss. “No sex.”

He leaned into your space. “As if you would do that to yourself. Besides, I have two hands.”

Robby groaned. “Brother, you better shut up while you’re ahead.”

You looked from Jack to Robby and back. “Fine. No Robby.”

“No Robby?!” the men said in unison.

“No Robby.” And with that you strode away to see a patient.

“She can’t do that, can she?” Robby asked.

“Don’t talk to me, man. You’re gonna get me in trouble,” Jack said before hurrying away.

You were working on your charting a couple of hours later when Robby approached. Jack edged closer from where he’d been pretending not to pay attention to you.

“Hey, so I know you said no Robby, but Jack was supposed to come over to watch the game tonight. I hate watching alone and you don’t like baseball so could he maybe come over?” Robby asked.

You chuckled under your breath. As if you’d actually ground your husband. As if you needed to.

“You’re only asking her if I can come over because she hates baseball?” Jack huffed. “That’s Jack—”

You snapped around to face him, one brow lifted.

He grumbled under his breath but didn’t finish his sentence.

“Fine. One beer and home straight after the game.”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Robby said with a wide smile.

“Anything for you, Mikey.”

Jack stomped off again and you and Robby laughed softly as you watched him go. “He is aware that you would have no way of knowing if he had more than one beer, right?”

“Mike there is something you should know about my husband, he’s a ‘wife guy’ through and through. I don’t have to know anything because he tells on himself. Of course, I don’t care if he watches the game with you but when you asked if he was coming over, he told you he needed permission, didn’t he?”

Robby nodded.

You shrugged. “He’s a grown ass man. I can’t ground him nor would I want to. He does it to himself.”

“Okay,” Robby said, stretching out the word. “So, you won’t be mad when I get him to drink more than one beer tonight?”

You rolled your eyes. “As if I care. But he won’t.”

“Wanna bet?”

He saw you again less than a week later sitting at the same table at almost exactly the same time. He couldn’t help but hope this was a new routine for you and he’d be able to see more of you. Once he’d retrieved his coffee, he took a deep breath and headed in your direction. Rehearsing lines of conversation in his head, he completely missed the teenager intercepting his path and plowed right into him sending his coffee over his scrubs and onto the floor. Fuck.

After assuring the kid he was fine, his gaze snapped up to find you already watching him. Heat flooded his face and he knew he had to be red to the tips of his ears. Damn it. He offered you a weak, pathetic smile before hurrying out the door, anxious to put the embarrassment behind him.

He saw you the next two days as well, but barely glanced in your direction, still stinging from what he now referred to as ‘the incident’ even if only in his head. The third day, someone called his name as he approached the counter. He turned at the sound and found you smiling at him and holding a cup of coffee with his name on it. He glanced from you to the counter and back again before making his way to you.

“Hi,” he said, but it was more question than greeting.

“Hi,” you echoed with a smile. “I hope you don’t mind I took the liberty of ordering your usual.” You gestured to the empty seat across from you.

He slid into it, his brow furrowed in confusion. “I’m sorry, but do I know you.” It seemed unlikely. Surely, he’d remember meeting you, no matter the circumstances.

“No, but I was kind of hoping you were going to introduce yourself the day your coffee suffered death by teenager.” Your smile had turned sheepish.

He studied you for a beat before laughing, the sound brighter than he was used to hearing from himself. “I was. Michael Robinavitch.” He shook your offered hand as you introduced yourself.

And that, as they say, was the beginning of a beautiful relationship.

Which brings him to now, exactly one year later. When he’d first considered your upcoming anniversary a couple of months ago, he’d thought about booking a trip or a nice dinner at Altius. You’d had a different suggestion. And as you stepped into view at the end of the aisle, he was so glad you did.

You were stunning. Exquisite. Breathtaking. Most importantly, his.

His vision went blurry as tears flooded his eyes and he hastily wiped them away, not wanting to miss a moment of your procession. Jack dropped a heavy hand on his shoulder. “You’re one lucky son of a bitch,” his friend said in a tone low enough only Robby could hear.

“I am very much aware,” he assured before stepping forward to meet you as you reached the end of the aisle. He took your hand in his as he smiled at you, trying to convey everything he was feeling in that moment through a simple look.

“Hi,” you said as you returned his smile.

His own widened. “Hi.”

The two of you just stared at one another until the officiant cleared her throat. Neither of you looked at her.

“We should probably get married now,” you said, earning a few laughs from those near enough to hear.

 “We probably should, yes,” he agreed as you turned toward the front.

After his initial visit, Aleksander came in at least three times a week, though he never had to give his name again. His smiles turned into a kind word or two which eventually turned into full conversations. Until finally, he asked you on a date. When he wasn’t wrapped up in his responsibilities for the school, he often parked himself at a table in the corner with some work while you kept his coffee full.

At first, you’d believed it was simply a way for him to spend more time with you. It hadn’t taken long for you to discover that wasn’t the only reason. It was a warm spring morning, sunlight pouring through the windows when a man entered your little café with a frown on his face. That in itself wasn’t unusual. The fact he waited for the line to empty without ever entering it himself before stepping up to the counter was more so.

“What can I get for you?” you asked, your usual smile on full display.

“You’re her. I knew you fucking were,” he said in lieu of a response.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re the Darkling’s bitch.”

It was the room behind the asshole that grew dark first, so you supposed you couldn’t blame him for not noticing immediately.

“Nice to meet you,” you said with a wide smile.

“You stupid—” He’d barely gotten the gun out of his pocket when a blade made of pure shadow cut through the weapon along with the hand holding it.

The man screamed and Aleks slid over a chair for him to fall into. “Towel,” he said with a glance to you. You tossed him one and he pressed it to what remained of the man’s hand. “Keep that there.”

After a quick call to summon the authorities, he turned to look at you with a blank expression. “Nice to meet you?”

Your lips twitched as you bit back an ill-advised smile. “It’s not like you were about to let anything happen to me.”

“While that is true, a smidge of self-preservation wouldn’t be the worst thing, would it?”

You simply grinned and he shook his head as he turned to address the officers that had just entered. While he was occupied you started shutting down the machines and cleaning up what you needed to close for the day. You didn’t have to make a statement simply because Aleksander Kirigan said you didn’t.

Once the man had been removed by medics with the officers following behind, you locked the door, flipped the sign to closed and taped another to the glass. Aleks’ gaze followed you as you stepped back behind the counter to grab a mop which you then pressed into his hands. “Make yourself useful.”

He huffed a laugh but cleaned the floor without a word. “You seem remarkably calm for what you just experienced,” he said when he’d finished.

You had already gathered his things and handed him the bag as you stepped into his space. Your hands rested on his chest. “I am never afraid when you are near, Aleksander. I don’t know how else I can convey that to you.”

His eyes studied your face for a beat before he pressed his lips to yours. After a moment, he shifted to take your hand in his. He led you out the door. “Ivan is waiting at the corner for us.”

The most infuriating thing about you was the fact that you didn’t seem to understand what you were doing to him. You’d smile at him in the classes you shared. Give him a cheerful, “Hey, Carter,” when you saw him on campus. Once you’d even offered to study with him and hadn’t seemed bothered at all by his dismissal. He couldn’t even bitch about you to any of your common acquaintances. Everyone loved you. And didn’t that just piss him off more.

Fortunately, you were on different med school rotations and he saw less of you than ever. Until finally, both of you graduated and he could emerge from your shadow. He matched into County as a surgical resident while you went off to Washington DC to work in emergency medicine. The year was good even if he ended up changing his whole career path, at least he was no longer competing with you.

The first day of his second R1 year had him greeting Mark with a smile which Mark returned. “Well, you already know everyone. Oh, except our new second year resident.” He called your name and Carter froze. It couldn’t be. Yet, there you were turning at the call, a smile covering your face when you spotted your classmate.

“I thought you were in DC,” he said dumbly when you approached.

Your smile merely widened. “Kept track of me, Carter? That’s sweet.”

“No.”

Mark looked between the two of you. “Good, you’ve met. Carter, take an hour and show her around.” He shifted his attention to you. “Carter knows his way around even if he is technically a first year.” With that he walked off.

John could feel his cheeks burning as your brow furrowed. “First year?” You glanced around and leaned closer as you lowered your voice. “Did you flunk your first year of residency?”

He reared back as if you’d struck him. “Of course not. I switched from surgery and have to start over.”

Your eyes went wide and you nodded. “That makes sense. Well, show me around.”

It took no time at all for the two of you to fall right back into your previous dynamic. He gave his all and you managed to overshadow him without even trying. And if he thought he hated you for it before, his newfound rage was so much worse than anything he felt while you were in school. This was his job, his future. He needed to excel here. This wasn’t about grades. This was about his career.

He lasted three weeks before he snapped. Mark and Kerry consistently praised your work and your instincts. Hell, even Morgenstern had complimented your quick thinking on a case. John couldn’t handle this everyday for the rest of his residency. He needed you to stop.

So, he waited for you one night after shift. You’d been finishing up some charting and he hurried out to wait for you a short distance away in the direction he knew you walked home. He stood in the shadows, eyes locked on you as you moved ever closer to him. When you were near enough, he reached out and grabbed your neck, spinning to shove you against the nearest wall.

Your eyes were wide, but the fear drained from them as you realized who was holding you. You said nothing, simply watching. Waiting.

He leaned into your space, faces inches apart. “You need to stop. You can’t keep doing this to me.”

“What?” Your throat bobbed in his hold as you swallowed.

“Always showing me up,” he hissed. “You walk into a room and everyone forgets that John Carter exists.”

You blinked at him, bottom lip trembling. “I don’t try to. I swear.”

His hold loosened at the sight of your pending tears. What was he doing? God, he was an asshole. His hand dropped away and took a step back. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

The corner of your lips curled up and any trace of tears vanished. “Don’t back down now, John. You were just getting interesting.”

Titus nodded. He’d expected as much. The El Caidos were the newest family to be added to the council, having signed their contracts in the last century. Beginning as a minor family, they moved up as they accumulated wealth and power. They filled the seat that the destruction of the Richards family had left vacant for over four decades.

Ignatio El Caido had become something of a celebrity in Europe. It was too flashy for Titus, too much, but he was in no position to judge what the other families did with their bargains. He had met Ignatio several times over the years, though he wouldn’t call the man a friend. A better acquaintance than Bill Wilkinson certainly, but not one Titus would choose to associate with if not necessary.

You leaned back in your seat and studied him, your gaze focused as if you were trying to solve a difficult puzzle. “I believe we could use a bit of a break before that meeting, however.”

He stilled, gaze flicking over you. He wouldn’t mind a break, truth be told, but he was in no hurry to return to his regular life. He’d become far too accustomed to spending all of his time with you.

“You’ll stay with me, won’t you, Titus?” The question was quiet, a soft smile playing on your lips.

He answered without hesitation. “Wouldn’t dream of doing otherwise.”

Your smile spread across your face, warm and bright. Titus’ chest tightened. He’d do whatever it took to keep seeing that smile from you.

You took a helicopter from the mainland across a turquoise expanse of ocean straight to your private island. The pilot didn’t speak, simply handing you both a set of headphones before taking his place at the controls. The island appeared on the horizon, first as a small green speck before growing larger with every passing minute. It wasn’t huge but the white sand beaches and lush vegetation gave it an almost dreamlike quality.

The helicopter touched down on a patch of smooth stone near a large colonial style home that overlooked the water. But it was a separate smaller structure that caught Titus’ attention. A hut built on stilts sat directly over the ocean, surrounded by a roomy deck connected to the shore by a long wooden walkway.

“I prefer it to the house,” you said, following his gaze. “My own personal haven.”

As you approached the main building, a figure emerged from the front door. Titus did a double take, nearly stumbling over his own feet as he recognized The Lawyer. The man was dressed in navy trunks and a loose linen shirt, sunglasses perched on his nose, a pink drink in one hand with an umbrella stuck in the top of it. He raised his glass in greeting, a small smile on his lips.

Titus blinked in surprise. “I’ve never seen him in anything but a suit. I don’t think anyone has.”

You laughed. “Well, surely you didn’t think he wore one all the time. Did you think he wore suits to bed?”

“To be honest, I wasn’t certain he slept.”

That earned him another laugh as you led the way out to the hut. The interior was larger than it appeared from the outside, with wide windows on all sides letting in the brilliant sunlight. The glass floor showcased the brilliant blue water and colorful fish below. A kitchenette sat in one corner, complete with a small refrigerator and a two-burner stove. A bathroom with a rainfall shower stood on the opposite side. And in the center of it all was a king-sized bed with crisp white sheets.

Titus glanced around, genuinely impressed. “This is amazing.”

“Thank you.” You tossed your bag into a chair. “I had it built several decades ago. It’s the favorite of all my properties.”

He rocked on his heels, hands in his pockets. “Will you be okay out here alone?”

You tilted your head, studying him with eyes that always seemed to see more than he intended to reveal. “You’re welcome to stay in the house with Sol, but I assumed you’d rather stay here with me.”

“Sol?” Titus glanced out the door to where The Lawyer lay reclined on a lounger on the deck just outside your hut enjoying the sunshine.

You smiled. “I wouldn’t let him hear you calling him that. He gets rather testy about it.”

Titus’ mind caught up with the rest of your statement and he took a step closer. “You want me to stay here? With you?”

“Only if you’d like. You’re certainly under no obligation to humor me.” Your tone was casual but there was a flicker of vulnerability in your gaze that you quickly masked.

He wanted to touch you, wanted to trace his fingers along your jaw and feel the softness of your skin. Instead, he nodded, keeping his voice as steady as he could manage. “Of course. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

You gave him that unforgettable smile again then ducked behind a wooden screen set up in the corner of the hut. “There should be a couple of drawers cleared for you on the lefthand side of the dresser,” you said.

Titus slid the top drawer open and found two pairs of trunks laying inside.

“I had those delivered for you. Hopefully they fit.”

He turned at the sound of your voice and his mouth went dry. You wore a simple black one-piece swimsuit with a lightweight cover up open over the top of it. The sight of you, all smooth skin and curves, sent a jolt of heat straight through him.

He swallowed hard and nodded. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. I’ll be outside if you need anything.”

He unpacked quickly then changed into a pair of dark green trunks that fit perfectly. When he stepped outside, he found you on one of the loungers, a wide-brimmed hat shading your face. The Lawyer was on your left and an empty lounger sat to your right. He was certain there had only been two chairs present when you entered the hut. He shook the thought away. What did it matter really?

“There he is,” The Lawyer greeted, lifting his glass. “Drinks are on the table.”

Titus nodded and picked up a glass of amber liquid before settling himself beside you.

The day passed in a haze of pleasant conversations. You spoke of places you’d been, things you’d seen, with The Lawyer contributing his own stories. The two of you bounced topics off each other with the ease of very old friends. Titus found himself utterly enthralled, hanging off your every word.

As the sun began its slow descent toward the horizon, The Lawyer’s phone buzzed making you scrunch up your nose in irritation. He pulled it from his pocket, read the message and sighed.

He stood and stretched. “I have a matter to see to. You two enjoy your evening. I’ll have a meal sent out.”

Titus watched him walk back to the main house, visibly relaxed and loose. It was strange to see the normally impeccable man be so casual but it somehow suited him.

“He works too much,” you said with a sigh, pulling Titus’ attention back to you.

“He’s dedicated.”

You hummed in acknowledgement. “That is one word for it, yes.”

You stood suddenly, dropping your coverup onto the lounger before diving smoothly into the water. Titus watched transfixed as you sliced through the surface and disappeared beneath the waves. A moment later, you resurfaced. “Coming?” you called, treading the water.

Titus followed you into the ocean, the cool water a shock against his sun-warmed skin. You smiled as he swam toward you, then turned and began to move farther from the shore with strong even strokes. Titus matched your pace, staying slightly behind so he could keep an eye on you.

“You’re a good swimmer,” you said when you paused to float on your back.

“So are you.”

You laughed. “I’ve had a lot of time to practice.”

You swam together until the sun touched the water, painting the surface in shades of gold, pink and orange. When you finally turned back toward the hut, Titus followed, admiring the play of muscles under your skin as you cut through the water.

At the ladder, you climbed up first. It was only then, that Titus saw your back clearly for the first time. Scars crisscrossed your skin. Thin lines, some deeper than others overlapped the expanse of your flesh, a pattern that showed a history of suffering and survival.

Titus’ breath caught in his throat. He followed quickly behind you, water dripping from his body as he stepped onto the deck. You reached for your coverup, but he caught your wrist, stopping you.

“What?” you asked, looking over your shoulder at him.

His free hand reached out, fingers tracing over the worst of the scars, a thick ropy line that ran from just below one shoulder blade to the small of your back. “Tell me they’re dead.” His voice was tight with a rage that surprised even him.

You blinked, confusion evident in your expression. “What?”

“The scars.” His fingers still rested lightly on your skin. “Tell me whoever is responsible is dead.”

You turned to face him completely, searching his expression. “Yes,” you said finally. “For a very long time now.”

“Did they suffer?”

Your lips curved into a cold smile. “Most assuredly.”

“Good.”

You reached up, your palm resting against his cheek. “You’re angry.”

“For you.” The words felt inadequate but he couldn’t find better ones. Not at the moment.

Your smile softened. “No one’s been angry on my behalf in a very long time.”

Titus leaned forward, pressing his forehead to yours. “Then they’re idiots.”

You laughed. “I like you, Titus Danforth.”

“I like you, too.” More than like if he was being honest but that felt like a truth too fragile to voice. Not yet.

You stepped back, picking up your coverup and slipping it on. “Hungry?”

“Starving.”

“Good. There should be a meal waiting inside for us.” You headed for the door, then paused, looking back at him over your shoulder. “And Titus?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

He nodded, not trusting his voice. As you disappeared inside, he took a deep breath, trying to steady his racing heart. He was in deep, deeper than he’d ever been with anyone, and there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

Three weeks passed in a blur of sun-drenched days and starlit nights. Titus held you every evening in that bed over the water, your body warm against his, your breath soft against his skin. You’d kissed, gods how you’d kissed, your hands exploring, your lips demanding. But that was the extent of it. So far.

Now, as the car pulled up to the sprawling El Caido estate in the Spanish countryside, Titus found himself reluctant to share you, even for the span of a single evening.

“They’ve pulled out all the stops,” you observed as the driver opened your door.

Titus followed your gaze to where Ignatio El Caido waited at the top of the wide stone steps, his children flanking him on either side. Flowers in enormous arrangements lined the path, servants stood at attention and the massive front doors stood open, inviting you into the opulence within.

“They’re showing off,” Titus said in a low tone as he offered his hand to help you from the car.

You smiled, your fingers warm in his. “Let them.”

Ignatio descended the steps as you approached, arms spread wide in welcome. He was a handsome man in his late forties with a bright white smile and laugh lines around his eyes. His suit was impeccably tailored, his shoes polished to a mirror shine.

“Welcome, welcome,” he said, his accent thick but his English flawless. “It is an honor to host you in our humble home.”

Titus bit back a laugh at the description. The El Caido estate was many things, but humble wasn’t one of them.

“Thank you for having us,” you replied, your smile cool but polite.

Ignatio’s gaze lingered on your face for a moment before shifting to Titus. “Titus. A pleasure to see you again.”

“Likewise.” The lie came easily.

“And these are my children, Francesca and Felipe.” Ignatio gestured to them in turn.

Francesca was beautiful in a way that came from excellent genes and the best regimens money could buy. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes as she offered a slight nod. Felipe, no more than ten, stood straight-backed and serious beside his sister, his dark eyes taking in everything.

“Please come inside. Dinner has been prepared.” Ignatio offered an arm to escort you.

Titus followed, watching as Ignatio leaned close to whisper in your ear. Your expression didn’t change but Titus caught the slight stiffening of your shoulders. He’d spent enough time with you now to recognize the signs of your annoyance. His lips twitched as he reined in a smile.

The dining room was as opulent as the rest of the house. A massive table was set with silver and crystal, candles casting a warm glow. Ignatio seated you at his right hand with Titus beside you. Francesca sat across from you, Felipe beside her.

Ignatio filled your glass with a deep red wine. “I hope you enjoy Spanish cuisine. I’ve taken the liberty of having some of our traditional dishes prepared.”

“It looks wonderful,” you said as you picked up your fork.

Throughout the meal, Ignatio maintained a steady stream of conversation, his eyes never leaving your face for long. He laughed too loudly at your responses, leaned too close when speaking, his hand brushing against yours with deliberate frequency.

Titus watched it all with growing irritation. You weren’t his, not exactly, but the thought of Ignatio’s hands on you made his blood boil. Titus had held you every night for weeks, had memorized the curve of your smile, the taste of your tongue. He knew the sound of your laugh and the feel of your skin beneath his palms. And while you’d never discussed labels, the idea of sharing you with anyone, let alone a preening peacock like Ignatio El Caido, made him want to break something. Preferably the other man’s face.

“I don’t see why I needed to be here for this. I could be with Alex right now,” Francesca said, pushing food around her plate with disinterest.

Ignatio’s smile tightened. “Because, as I’ve explained numerous times, our guest wished to meet the entire family.”

“Well, she met us. Can I go now?”

“Francesca.” The warning in his tone was clear.

She rolled her eyes dramatically. “It’s just dinner. It’s not like it’s anything important.”

Your gaze moved between the father and daughter, something close to amusement in your eyes.

“Enough,” Ignatio snapped, finally losing his patience. He turned to you with an apologetic smile. “I apologize for my daughter’s behavior. She’s very much in love.”

“Is she?” you replied in a flat tone as you set down your utensils. “Perhaps we should move onto our business.”

You adjourned to a room lined with dark bookcases filled with leather bound books and heavy furniture. Ignatio offered drinks, which you declined. Once everyone was seated, save for Titus who stood slightly behind you, you got straight to the point.

“Francesca will not be marrying Alex Le Domas.” Your tone was almost bored.

Francesca’s head snapped up from where she sat on a small sofa to the side of the room with her brother. “What?”

Ignatio held up a hand to silence his daughter as he struggled to maintain his perpetual smile. “I’m sorry, would you repeat that?”

“You heard me perfectly well. The marriage will not take place.”

Francesca shot to her feet. “You can’t just—”

Ignatio snapped her name, his tone sharp and firm. “Be quiet.”

“No.” She crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at her father. “This is my life you’re talking about. I’m not going to just stand here while you—”

“Just give me a moment to sort this out,” Ignatio forced through clenched teeth. He turned his focus back to you, his expression carefully composed. “May I ask why Mr. Le Bail would not want two of the families to merge? It has never been a problem before.”

“You are not owed an explanation, just a decree.”

His jaw tightened and Titus shifted subtly closer to you. “With all due respect,” Ignatio continued, “a union between the El Caido and Le Domas families has been in the works for years now. The contracts are signed, the arrangements made. To cancel now would—”

“What?” you interrupted, one eyebrow raised. “Would what? Cost you time? Money perhaps? I assure you the cost of proceeding would be far greater.”

Titus watched as Ignatio’s entire demeanor changed in the blink of an eye. His defiance fell away to be replaced by something close to terror, his pallor becoming noticeably paler. Eyes wide as a sheen of sweat formed on his brow.

“I love him,” Francesca pleaded.

“Francesca, for fuck’s sake, shut up,” her father snapped, not taking his eyes off you.

“I will not shut up! This is—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Ignatio yelled, turning to face his daughter with a fury that finally had the girl shrinking back. He turned back to you, a fake smile firmly in place. “Understood. It won’t be a problem, I assure you.”

You hummed in agreement and gave him a nod. “Excellent. I think we’re done here.”

As you stood, Ignatio moved around the desk, offering his hand. “Thank you for coming. We appreciate your guidance in this matter.”

Your handshake was brief, professional. “Of course. Good evening, Mr. El Caido.”

Titus followed you from the room, hyper aware of the tension radiating from Ignatio behind you. Whatever had passed between you, whatever you’d shown him that the rest of them didn’t see, had been enough to bring one of the most powerful men in Europe to heel.

And gods, it was one of the most attractive things Titus had ever witnessed.

He settled into the back of the car beside you. The driver had been instructed to take you directly to the airport much to Titus’ surprise. He’d assumed you’d be spending time in country like you had in Beijing and India.

Your interaction with Ignatio had left Titus slightly unsettled. “How did you make Ignatio fall in line so quickly? I’ve known that man to argue for hours over something he believed in. One minute he was ready to go head-to-head with you, the next he couldn’t comply fast enough.”

The corner of your lips kicked up in a smirk. “I just reminded him who he was dealing with.”

One brow lifted. “That’s all?”

You shifted in your seat, angling your body toward his. “That’s all it took. He grew comfortable in his power. He forgot it was given, not earned. That it can be taken away just as easily.”

Titus nodded slowly, considering your words. He’d seen the change in real time, sudden understanding replacing Ignatio’s indignation. Whatever you’d shown him had been enough to strip away all of his carefully cultivated arrogance.

“And why is Le Bail opposed to Le Domas marrying Francesca?” he asked, the question had been gnawing at him since your announcement. “The families have intermarried before. It’s never been an issue.”

You hummed, your gaze on the passing scenery rather than him. “The Le Domas family has grown weak. The current generation lacks the fervor of their ancestors. They’ve grown complacent, content to rest on the achievements of those who came before them.”

Titus nodded. What he’d seen of the Le Domas family had left him unimpressed. They were wealthy certainly, well connected, but there was always the sense they were playing at power rather than wielding it.

“The new heirs don’t look much better, unfortunately,” you continued without prompting. “Alex Le Domas is not committed to the family or the contract. He’ll drag the El Caido line down with him.”

“But why intervene now? Why not let nature take its course?”

Your smile widened, taking on a predatory edge. “Le Bail wants a hunt. It’s time for the Le Domas family to prove themselves.”

Titus’ brows shot up. Though written into all the contracts in one form or another, the wedding hunts actually didn’t happen very often. Once every generation or so.

You studied his face gauging his reaction. “They need a reminder of what’s at stake.”

Titus leaned back in his seat, mind racing. “When?”

You shrugged. “Whenever Alex Le Domas finds a new bride. I don’t expect it will take long. He wasn’t as enamored with Francesca as she likes to believe.”

When you arrived at the jet, Titus followed you up the stairs watching the sway of your hips, the set of your shoulders. These were the moments he liked best, between visits, between families. When you were just you and he was just Titus, neither of you pretending to more than you were. You disappeared through a door and emerged minutes later wearing clothing more suitable for travel. You had on dark leggings and a sweater hanging off one shoulder. You looked softer like this, more approachable, though he knew better than to ever mistake that for weakness.

You sat across from him as the engines kicked on, preparing for takeoff. He handed you a glass of bourbon.

“Who’s next?” he asked once you were airborne.

You took a sip, eyes meeting his over the glass. “We’re finished for the time being.”

His chest felt tight. Finished. As in no more families to visit, no more reasons for the two of you to travel together. As in his time with you was coming to an end.

“I see.” He kept his voice neutral despite the sudden hollow feeling in his gut.

Your head titled as you studied him. “Do you?”

Titus took a breath, weighing his words. He could play it cool, act as if your announcement hadn’t just flipped his world upside down. Could return to his life, his responsibilities. His family. Could pretend that these weeks with you hadn’t fundamentally altered something inside of him.

But you valued honesty. Above all else, The Lawyer had said. And Titus had never wanted anything as much as he wanted you.

“Let me stay with you.” The words left his lips before he could reconsider.

You watched him for a beat then asked, “Why?”

“Because I can’t bear to be separated from you. I’m not willing to say goodbye. Not now. Not ever.”

For a long moment you were silent, your expression unreadable. Titus held his breath, waiting for your response, for the rejection he was certain would come. Then your face transformed, a smile spreading across your lips that stole the air from his lungs.

“Oh, Titus.” You reached across the space between you, your fingers brushing against his cheek. “We’re going to have so much fun you and I.”

Relief washed through him, warm and intoxicating. You wanted him. You were choosing him. The knowledge settled in his chest, a weight he welcomed.

You leaned back in your seat, pulling a cigarette from the case you always carried. Titus reached for his lighter, but before he could produce it, you held up a finger as if to shush him. A flame appeared on the tip of your finger, orange and hungry.

Titus watched transfixed as you brought the flame to the end of your cigarette, lighting it. You closed your eyes as you took the first drag, your face relaxed in obvious pleasure. When you opened them again, flames danced in the depths of your eyes.

He suddenly had a perfect understanding of what you had shown to Ignatio, of the glimpse of your truth you had allowed the man the privilege of seeing. Titus supposed he should have been terrified, should have been scrambling for safety. Instead, he found himself leaning closer, drawn to you like a moth to a flame. You were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, the glimpse of your true nature breathtaking.

He was constantly astonished by you. Your mind, your power, your capacity for cruelty matched only your capacity for kindness. The flames in your eyes were just the latest revelation in a seemingly endless stream of them. He sat his drink down, his gaze never leaving your face.

“You are exquisite.” He left his seat in a single fluid motion, moving to kneel at your feet. Your eyes widened slightly, the flames dancing brighter before your normal gaze returned as you looked down at him.

“What are you doing?” you asked, voice soft.

“Let me show you how I feel.” His hands rested lightly on your knees, not pushing, not demanding.

You studied him for a long moment, your expression unreadable. Then your hand came down and your fingers traced the line of his jaw with a feather-light touch. “You can show me anything you want to, baby.”

The permission, the endearment sent a rush of heat straight through him. Titus reached up and took the cigarette from between your fingers. He held your gaze as he stubbed it out in the ashtray beside your seat.

Then he was moving, one hand sliding behind your neck as he pulled you down to meet his kiss. Your lips were soft, yielding, then demanding as you responded with equal fervor. His tongue traced the seam of your mouth and you opened for him with a soft sound that went directly to his cock.

Titus kissed his way along your jaw to the sensitive spot beneath your ear, smiling against your skin as you shivered. His hand slipped beneath the hem of your sweater, tracing the warm skin of your stomach, feeling the muscles contract at his touch.

“May I?” he asked, fingers hovering at the waistband of your leggings.

In answer, you lifted your hips to give him better access. Titus didn’t need to be told twice. He worked your leggings down, taking your panties with them, his mouth following the path of his hands. Kisses pressed to your inner thigh, your knee, the curve of your calf.

You were bare before him, exposed and beautiful. Titus took a moment to simply look, to memorize the sight of you like this. Then he bent his head, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the juncture of your thigh and hip.

Your hand came down to tangle in his hair. Titus turned his head, pressing a kiss to your palm before continuing his journey. His tongue traced your folds, teasing. You made a sound of frustration as your hips shifted restlessly.

“Titus,” you said his name, half plea, half command.

He smiled against your skin, then finally, finally gave you what you wanted. His tongue delved inside you, tasting the evidence of your desire. Your fingers tightened in his hair. Titus worked you with his mouth, alternating between broad strokes and focused attention to the bundle of nerves that had you gasping.

Your thighs began to tremble, your breath coming in short, sharp pants. Titus slid a finger inside of you, then another, curling them to find the spot that made you cry out. Your release built quickly after that, your body tensing beneath his hands.

“Titus,” you gasped, hips arching against him.

He doubled his efforts, his tongue and fingers working in concert as you came apart above him. Your thighs clamped around his head as pleasure washed through you. Titus worked you through it, gentling his touch as your tremors began to subside.

Before he could fully pull away, your hand was in his hair again, tugging him up. “Come here.”

He straightened still on his knees and you leaned down to capture his mouth with yours. The kiss was deep, hungry, your tongue exploring his mouth as if you wanted to taste yourself on his lips. Which, Titus realized with a surge of desire, you did.

“Up,” you said when you finally broke the kiss.

He obeyed without hesitation, rising to his feet. You stood with him, your hands going to the buttons of the shirt. You made quick work of them, pushing the fabric from his shoulders once the last one was free. Your palms ran over his chest, tracing the lines of muscle there.

“Pants,” you said, fingers working at his belt.

Titus toed off his shoes as you opened his fly, pushing his pants and boxers down in one smooth motion. He stepped out of them, kicking them aside. You were already moving, pushing him back until his legs hit his chair. He sat, looking up at you with naked desire.

You reached for the hem of your sweater, pulling it over your head in one swift motion. Your bra followed, leaving you bare. Titus couldn’t look away, mesmerized by the sight of you. You straddled his lap, your heat pressed against his erection. His hands found your hips, holding you steady as you rocked against him.

“I need you, Titus.” You reached between you to guide him to your entrance.

He caught your wrist, stopping you. “Wait.”

You paused, brow furrowed in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

His nose traced the line of your neck. “Say you’re mine.” The words left his mouth before he could reconsider, raw and honest.

You pulled back slightly, eyes searching his. “What?”

“Be mine.” His hands tightened on your hips. “Let me take care of you. Let me worship you. Let me stay with you.”

One hand came up to cup his cheek. “For how long?”

“For as long as you’ll have me.”

Something flashed in your eyes before your lips curved into a smile. “Yes, I’m yours, Titus.” You leaned forward, your breath warm against his ear. “Please.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. His hand replaced yours between your bodies, guiding himself to your entrance. You sank down onto him in one smooth motion, taking him to the hilt. The feeling of you hot and tight around him, drew a groan from deep in his throat.

You began to move, setting a pace that had you both gasping. Titus’ hands grasped your waist, helping to guide your movements, to deepen each thrust. Your forehead rested against his, your breath mingling with his as pleasure built between you.

“I’ve wanted this,” you admitted, the words broken by a particularly deep thrust. “Since the moment I first saw you.”

Titus couldn’t respond, could only hold you tighter as his release approached. You sensed it, your movements becoming more deliberate, designed to push him over the edge. When his release came it roared through him with the force of a tidal wave, his body arching beneath yours as his pleasure overwhelmed him.

You followed moments later, your body clenching around him as you climaxed. Titus held you through it, whispering praises against your skin along with promises of devotion and desire.

As your breathing began to slow, you lifted your head to look at him. “Mine,” you said, the word both statement and question.

“Yours,” he agreed when he finally found his voice.

“Not her. Her father. Bank fraud,” Parker corrected.

“Then why is she the mark?” Harry was so confused. If they could just explain something for once without him having to ask a million questions that would be fantastic.

“Dad’s dead,” Eliot said. “Indications are his partners might have killed him when he had second thoughts. That makes her the weak point. We need to find out what she knows and if she can get us the information we need.”

Harry thought for a moment before giving a slow nod. “Okay. And how do we do that?”

All four of them turned to look at him.

It was decided the best place to approach you was in the cemetery. Every Tuesday you visited your father’s grave. Alone. Harry was to approach you as himself. An attorney concerned about certain investments, about the peculiarities surrounding your father’s death.

Harry took a deep breath and straightened his jacket before approaching you with a call of your name. You turned on the bench to face him, one eyebrow raised at the interruption. God, you were even prettier in person.

“Yes?” you said, drawing the word out.

“Harry Wilson. An…associate of your father. There are some matters I’d like to discuss with you.”

You studied him for a moment before gesturing to the spot beside you. He hurried to take the seat, angling himself toward you.

“I’m not sure where to start. How familiar you are with your father’s business practices?”

“I can assure you there is nothing you could tell me that I am not already aware of, Mr. Wilson, so do get to the point.” You looked out over the grounds rather than turning your attention fully on him.

“Fair enough,” he said with a nod. “You are aware then that he had a change of heart shortly before his death? That his partners were displeased by that?”

Your head turned slowly to face him then, gaze flicking over the length of him. “What are you trying to imply?”

Harry hesitated. “Just tell her,” Sophie said in his ear.

“We believe he may have been killed. We’re hoping you can help us find out who killed him and undo the harm he’s done as he would have wished.”

The movement was subtle, mostly unnoticeable, but Harry suddenly found himself with a gun pointed at his gut. You kept the weapon tucked near to your body so it wouldn’t be seen by anyone passing by. “Uh, that’s a gun,” he said, mostly to let the others know what was going on.

“Very good, Mr. Wilson. Unfortunately for you, I am very aware of who killed my father. And I have no interest in undoing his work.”

Well, shit.

“This is not how I expected this to go,” he said after a beat.

You huffed a laugh. “Obviously.”

At the same time, Parker was in his ear. “I did.”

“What? Why didn’t anyone mention it to me?” he hissed, no longer caring if you knew someone was listening. Maybe it would buy him enough time for Eliot to get here.

You leaned back slightly as if you were getting more comfortable and studied him. “Tell me something, Mr. Wilson. Why did they send you? You don’t seem very…”

“Capable? Trained? Bulletproof?” he rambled out.

The laugh that came from you startled him. It was rich and warm. Somehow it made you even more attractive. What the hell, Harry? She’s going to kill you. Keep it together, man.

“You were right, Sophie. I do like him,” you said.

Harry blinked as he recalibrated. “Excuse me?”

Your lips curved into a smile as you pulled the trigger. Harry closed his eyes and flinched. It took him a moment to process he hadn’t been shot. He looked down to find water sprayed across his jacket.

“A water gun. You held me at gunpoint with a water gun.”

“Yep,” you said as you stood. Harry could hear the team laughing in his ear.

You held out your hand and Harry looked at it for a moment before shaking it. “What is this?” he asked as he stood.

“Consider this your hazing, Harry. Welcome to the team.”

“I…but…who are you?”

You said your name which he already knew.

“That tells me nothing. What are you?” he asked instead.

“I’m the fixer.”

“That also tells me nothing.”

You grinned. “I know.” You turned and started walking away. “Come on, Harry. Keep up. We have things to do,” you called over your shoulder.

If that had been all, the day would have been perfect as it was. But you had arranged a dinner with a few of his nearest and dearest. The meal had been delicious and the company better. He’d been smiling for hours, all thanks to you.

When you entered the house, you spun away from the hand that had settled on your back with a smile on your lips. “Have you had a good birthday, Jack?”

His smile widened. “The best, baby. Thank you.”

You hummed as you tilted your head. “You still need to open your present though.”

He blinked at you then looked from the new watch on his wrist to you and back again. You’d given it to him before you left for dinner. “What’s this then?”

“That was your pre-dinner present. Now it’s time for your post-dinner present.”

Your smile shifted into something sly and sultry and Jack’s cock immediately stirred with interest.

“Is that so?” His voice was low, rough.

You bit your lip as you nodded. “Come along, Dr. Abbot.”

His hand slid into the one you held out to him and you tugged him toward the bedroom. You pushed him into the chair in corner. “Sit down and get comfortable, then you can have your present.”

His eyes stayed locked on you as he took off his leg. You took it from him, placing it in its usual location before returning with crutches and setting them within easy reach. It was automatic for you to take care of him, to tend to him. He doubted you even really registered you’d done it.

He leaned back in the chair, getting comfortable as you stepped back from him, just out of reach. Your fingers found the zipper at the side of your dress and pulled it down slowly as you gave him that smile he adored. His breath hitched as the fabric slid from your shoulders into a puddle at your feet, leaving you in nothing but an exquisite set of lacy black lingerie.

His gaze raked over the length of you. “You are the most stunning thing I’ve ever seen,” he said, voice breathy.

You positively beamed at him and god, he didn’t think he could love you more than he did in that moment.

“Come here.” He beckoned you forward.

You closed the distance with a swing of your hips. He pulled you into his lap, hand cupping your face as he kissed up the side of your neck, teeth nipping occasionally at the tender flesh.