I looked over my shoulder to smile at him, my wet hair plastered against my shoulder. Trex pulled the strands in his way to the side. “It’s hard to believe,” he said. “For someone like me, who’s done what I’ve done, to get everything I’ve ever wanted.” He turned me around and cupped my face with his hands, brushing specks of water from under my eyes with his thumbs.
“It’s hard for me to believe that I’m all you’ve ever wanted.”
He kissed my cheek and slowly turned me around again.
I laughed. “Really?”
He chuckled, reaching for the shampoo. He poured some into his palm, rubbed his hands together, and began to massage it into my hair. “Did you know that I used to have nightmares every night? I’d wake up soaked in sweat. I don’t do that on the nights I stay with you. If my mind wanders to things that happened, I just replace them with thoughts of you or our future, or the day I meet Bean.”
“I didn’t realize the FBI was so intense. I’m glad it’s getting easier.”
He paused, thinking about his next words. “Not easier. Better. The dreams have haunted me for years, and I automatically default to thoughts of you when they come. I know you deciding to trust me with this wasn’t easy. It might even be going against every instinct you’ve built over the years. I admit I’m feeling impatient because I’ve been waiting so long for you. I’ve had over a decade to prepare for this, and I forget it’s all new for you. I want this more than anything, and nothing makes me happier than knowing we’re buying our first house together. I know this is the best thing for Bean, but…”—he sighed—“I also don’t want to pressure you into anything you’re not ready for. Either way, we’ll make it work. So, you tell me what you want—really—and I’ll support you. I’ll help you get an apartment, and we can work it in a way that’s comfortable to you. That said, if you really do want to move in together, I’m making you a promise right now. I’ll spend every second of every day proving to you that I’m not him, or your mom, or anyone else you thought loved you. Even if you’re mad at me.”
“Even if I yell at you?”
“Even then.”
I turned to face him. “I am sorry I yelled.”
He kissed my forehead. “Not half as sorry as I am for making you cry. I never want to do that again.”
I leaned back, letting the water rinse the suds from my hair, and Trex kissed my neck, stepping closer to me.
I wrapped my arms around him. “I’m beginning to think it’s just a turn-on for you to have sex with your parents down the hall.”
“I’m not even going to lie. Unauthorized sex is the best.”
I giggled against his mouth. “You sound like a soldier.”
We went for a quick second round and then dried off, dressed, and returned to his bedroom.
“Hailey,” Trex said, surprised. “You’re still here.”
She arched an eyebrow. “You forgot about me, didn’t you? No wonder she’s pregnant.”
“Hailey!” he half scolded, half laughed at her.
I sat on the bed, feeling sheepish. Trex sat next to me, and I listened to him laugh and reminisce with his little sister, and watched his eyes light up when Hailey asked about baby names. He told her about the game we’d played on the way to Kansas, and she seconded his favorites.
She clapped, her hands in front of her mouth. “I can’t believe I’m going to be an aunt. Aunt Hailey. I will be the best aunt! Wait. Am I the only one? Do you have sisters?”
Trex looked to me.
“I have a brother,” I said. “Had. I had a brother.”
Hailey’s smile vanished. “He died?”
I nodded. “We were in a car accident. My dad was in the car, too.”
“Is he okay?”
I shook my head.
“That’s awful,” Hailey said, genuine shock and sadness in her voice. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”
“It was a long time ago,” I said.
“It doesn’t matter. It might not be an open wound, but it leaves a scar,” she said.
“Wow, Bells, that’s pretty profound,” Trex said, impressed.
“Bells?” I asked with a smile.
She rolled her eyes. “Hailey. Hay bale. HayBells. Bells. That was the natural progression, anyway.” She rested her cheek on her hand. “Can I babysit?”
“We’ll see,” Trex said. “I honestly can’t imagine leaving her with anyone.”
“We’ll have to at some point,” I said. “I have to go back to work.”
He wrinkled his nose. “I make great money. Why would you need to leave her with a stranger so you can go back to work? The hotel is closing, anyway.”
I arched an eyebrow.
Hailey stood. “This is why you don’t get pregnant early in the relationship. You two clearly have a lot to work out still.”
Trex glared at her.
“On that note…”
“Good night,” Trex said, not at all sweet or brotherly.
“Night!” Hailey lilted.
Trex looked at me, seeming exhausted again. “We do, don’t we? Have a lot to work out.”
“I guess that’s the trouble with doing this too quick.”
“It doesn’t matter. Now or over time, we’ll have to figure it out, anyway.” He looked down. “I’m just now realizing how naïve I was, thinking it would be easy. I’d found you, you happened to be pregnant. No problem, I take care of you and the baby, and we live happily ever after.”
“It sounds great in theory.”
“It was a fantasy, I guess. I assumed you’d want to stay home with her. I’d come home to you two, and we’d spend the evenings together. But you need a certain amount of space and independence, and I get that.”
“Maybe I can find something to do from home. Like sell lipstick or leggings or something.”
Trex nodded, reached back to pull his T-shirt over his head, and then crawled into bed, settling into the mattress.
“Why do you look so sad?” I asked, facing him in bed. We were just a few inches from each other, our hands tucked under our faces.
“I want this to be okay.”
“The burden of compromise doesn’t fall fully on your shoulders, you know. I didn’t know staying home with her was an option. I would love that.”
He hooked his arm around me and pulled me closer, resting his chin on top of my head. “You know what I think about? I imagine coming home from work, seeing you and her the moment I walk through the door, our little girl with her fist in her mouth, slobbering everywhere, smiling up at you, and you with spit-up on your shirt, and I need to take out seven trash cans full of disgusting diapers, but I kiss you—and you smell, by the way—and I round up all the trash, put Bean in her bouncy seat so you can take a shower, and start dinner. You come out all shiny and clean, and we cook together and talk about your day—not mine, because it’s classified—and then we sit down and eat a cold dinner because Bean threw a tantrum from exactly the time dinner was done until it had just stopped being warm. Then I take a shower, and we put her to bed and we crash on the mattress, way too tired to even make out.”
“That sounds kind of terrible,” I said.
“No, that sounds like life. An awesome life. A guy I work with, Kitsch, told me that story once. He had two kids, and he said that was one day he thinks about a lot. It was a perfect day. That’s what I look forward to.”
“It’s good to know you have no delusional fantasies about what the reality of all this will be.”
“Nope. It’s going to suck in the best possible way.”
“You said Kitsch had kids.”
“Yeah,” Trex said, pulling me close. “Car accident. His wife, too, while he was out of the country.”
“Oh,” I said, touching my forehead to Trex’s neck. “Poor Kitsch.”
“Yeah. He’s a good guy.”
“Will I ever get to meet any of them, or…?”
He sighed. “It’s complicated. Maybe.”
“Do they k
now about me?”
He blew out a laugh. “They’re sick of hearing about you, actually.”
“Really?” I said, looking up.
He met my gaze. “I’ve been talking about you since before we met.”
I ducked my head, nuzzling his neck, hoping to dream about things that suck, and hoping the days ahead would be exactly as Trex imagined them.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Trex
Turn around, sir,” the man on the other side of the blast doors of Deep Echo said through the speaker. He’d stopped getting annoyed a couple of months before and just accepted that we were going to visit them every day. The warning was just procedure. No guns, no posturing.
“Do you ever leave?” Naomi asked the man on the comm. “Do you even know it’s Thanksgiving?”
“Turn around and walk, ladies,” the soldier said.
Naomi took a step closer. “What’s your name, soldier?”
“Logan, ma’am. This is your last warning.”
Naomi lifted her fist and gave them the finger. “Happy holidays, assholes.”
“Thank you,” he said. “Happy holidays to you, too, Naomi.”
Naomi and I traded looks and then headed back down Echo corridor to Delta. The Complex was quiet, only a skeleton crew working the control room and security, and a couple dozen essential personnel. Our steps seemed to echo farther than usual against the metal grid that led to Delta, the water dripping from the ceiling louder, the whispers louder.
“Think they’ll ever let us back there?” Naomi asked.
“I’m more concerned at this point that those guys will never get out,” I said. “No amount of money would make that contract worth it.”
“Maybe they know too much, like that lab rat was saying.”
“Then I need to mind my fucking business. Tonight’s our first night in the new house.”
Naomi nudged me with her elbow. “What took you so long?”
“Paint. Furniture just came in. Babyproofing. We agreed to wait until it was ready before we spent our first night there. And since it’s Thanksgiving, we thought it would be a good day to move in and make it official.”
“Are you all ready? All packed up?”
“My stuff from storage was already delivered. We’ve been unpacking it. Almost done. I’m already checked out of my room. Darby’s things are still at the hotel. She has a couple of boxes, that’s it. I’m swinging by to get them before I head home.”
“We should go to McCormack’s Pub to celebrate.” When I made a face, her shoulders sagged. “C’mon. We haven’t all been out in forever.”
“Maybe.”
Naomi smiled, all her teeth showing. “I’ll tell the boys.”
“I said maybe.”
“Maybe means yes. You know it does. You have the most laid-back chick ever. She won’t care.”
“She has to work tonight, so no, she won’t care, but she does want to meet everyone,” I said. “We need to plan ahead.”
Naomi frowned. “Do you see a problem?”
“Yeah, a big one. When we’re all together, we tend to talk shop. She already has an idea. She’s sharp as a fucking tack. Misses nothing. It won’t take much to confirm her suspicions.”
“Well, maybe we’ll meet her one at a time, then.”
“Not a bad idea,” I said.
“How’s she feeling?”
I smiled. “She’s all belly. When you see her from behind, you don’t even know she’s pregnant until she turns around, and then it’s…whoa. She’s been talking about the baby pushing on her lungs and it being harder to breathe.”
Naomi shivered. “Weird.”
“She’s going to start going to the doc’s every two weeks soon, then it will be every week.”
“Have you named it yet?”
“Her. We’ve narrowed it down.”
“Sorry. Jesus. You sure have become sensitive since you’ve become someone’s dad.”
I smiled. “We actually wanted to run something by you.”
“Yes, you can name her Naomi.”
I laughed. “We went through the alphabet. Naomi didn’t make the cut for N, sorry.”
“Whaa? Which name beat me out?”
“Nina.”
She made a face. “Ick.”
“Darby wanted me to ask you if it would be okay if we named her Maddie.”
“Sure. I mean, Madison is a little overused if you ask me, but—”
“Madeleine. But she wants to call her Maddie. After Matt.”
Naomi stopped. After the initial shock wore off, her eyes glossed over. “That’s pretty cool of you guys. Yeah. I mean, yeah, of course.” She cleared her throat. “He’d be honored. We’re both…we’re both honored.”
I slapped Naomi’s shoulder. “Thanks.”
“So, it’s official, then? Maddie?”
“Madeleine Rose. I think. I’m still trying to talk her into it.”
“Aw, Rose is cute.”
“It’s Darby’s middle name. She hates it.”
Naomi laughed. “Of course she does.”
We made our way to the headquarters just before lunch. Martinez and Sloan were already there, and Harbinger came in right after us. We had what was essentially an extra-large locker room with a few desks to ourselves, but it seemed extra quiet.
I stared at the door for a full minute and then turned my head toward the comm clipped to my lapel. “Trex actual to Kitsch, check in.”
The rest of the team waited, frozen in place.
“Trex actual to Kitsch,” I repeated. “Do you copy?”
“It’s Thanksgiving,” Sloan said.
“I know,” I said, staring at the door and waiting for a response on the radio.
“This time of year is rough on him,” Sloan said.
“I know,” I snapped. “Trex to Kitsch. Do you copy?”
The radio crackled. “Lima Charlie, out,” Kitsch responded, signaling he’d heard me loud and clear.
We all sighed and relaxed. “We’re headed to chow and it’s comfort-food day. Get your ass in here.”
“On my way, over,” he said. The radio crackled again.
Martinez leaned back, letting his head hit his locker. None of us dared say it aloud, but holidays had us all on edge.
Kitsch was older than me by seven years. He’d married right out of high school, and they had their son, Dylan, right before he left on his first deployment. His daughter, Emily, was conceived the first week he was home. All three were killed instantly sometime during our six-hour firefight six clicks east of Fallujah when they were hit head-on by a sleeping truck driver. Kitsch refused leave to go back for the funerals. He never returned to Quincy after that, wouldn’t even step foot in the state of Massachusetts, but he carried a folded photograph he’d printed off his wife’s Facebook page all over the world. Karen, Dylan, and Emily had traveled with us to four continents and made it through a war. Kitsch talked about them like they were still alive, at home, waiting on him, and we let him. It wasn’t natural for a soldier to outlive his family.
“I invited him over tonight,” Naomi said. “I’m cooking if you guys want to stop over,” she said to Martinez and Sloan.
“Can I bring a date?” Martinez asked.
“Sure,” Naomi said. “Just make sure Kitsch comes.”
Martinez nodded once. “Will do.”
Lunch was a slice of roasted turkey, mashed potatoes, giblet gravy, cranberry salad, and apple pie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. We had all sat down by the time Kitsch made it to the table, not mentioning that his face was red and blotchy, his eyes swollen and bloodshot. I noticed the knuckles on his right hand were skinned and bloody, his napkin soaked with crimson.
“You’re not going to flake out on me, are you, Kitsch?” Naomi asked.
“Huh?” he said, snapping out of the hell he was in. “No. I’ll be there.”
“Good. I’m picking you up. You’re my date,” Martinez said.
Kitsch nodded.<
br />
“Everyone be sure to bring liquor. We’re going out after and the bar marks up the alcohol on holidays,” Naomi said. “And we’re going out tonight.” Kitsch frowned. Naomi pointed at him. “You’re the only one who can two-step.” She pointed at his bloody hand. “You’re cleaning that shit up, then you’re taking me out, fucker.”
“Fine,” he grumbled.
Martinez smiled. Naomi always knew how to handle Kitsch on his down days.
“I’ll be DD,” I said.
Naomi grinned. “You’re coming?”
I nodded. “Someone has to drive you drunken losers around. I don’t want to have to bail you out of jail so you’re at work on time. I don’t like leaving Darby at home alone on Thanksgiving…”
“Bring her,” Sloan said.
I frowned. “I’m not bringing my very pregnant girlfriend to a bar. Besides, she has to be at work by eleven.”
“You guys should come by,” Naomi said.
“She’s been cooking all day.”
“So, go after,” Harbinger said. “We’re stopping by after dinner.”
I nodded. “Okay. I’ll ask Darby. I’m sure she’ll be fine with it. We’ll stay until she has to go to work.”
Kitsch picked at his lunch, moving it around on his plate but never taking a bite.
“Attention!” Saunders called from the doorway.
We turned to see the general walk in. A few airmen at the other end of the cafeteria stood and saluted. We stopped eating and faced him, waiting to see what all the fuss was about. He walked over to our table. “Trexler, congratulations, your team has the rest of the day off to spend with your families, per Senator Bennett.”
“What?” Naomi said, incensed.
“Calm down, Abrams,” the general said. “The early release is for all civilian contractors.”
Naomi relaxed, putting her elbows on the table and keeping her head down.
“Enjoy your Thanksgiving meal and then collect your things for the weekend.”
“The weekend?” I asked. “What will you do for Complex security?”
“Deep Echo will take care of it. You go home, they breathe fresh air, it’s a win-win. Happy holidays.” With that, the general exited, followed by his entourage.
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