Chapter Fourteen #2
I sighed, leaning back against the door jamb. “They have three unused Humvees down here, but I guess plumbing individual rooms was where they drew the line,” I grumbled, immediately trying to forget the awkward moment with Camille.
“You don’t need to be clean for war,” Naomi whispered from the dark.
I startled. “Fucking hell, Naomi, you scared the shit outta me,” I hissed.
She chuckled quietly. “Just making sure you don’t need anything,” she whispered.
“No… no… dinner was unbelievable. It felt like home. And Donna and Janet were fantastic with the kids, made them feel like we were on vacation. Thanks for that.”
“You can thank the General. He wanted you all to have a good first night together down here.”
“I thought maybe that was it. He’s been incredible to us. I’ll never be able to repay him.”
“You sent Travis to pluck Zeke and me out of the desert. You saved our lives. As far as my dad is concerned, he’ll never be able to repay you.”
“Since you’re here, Liis and I wanted to remind you about returning our sidearms. Preferably before any alarms go off.”
“Already done,” she said. “Getting everyone underground took priority over reissuing weapons in the middle of an evacuation. Your sidearms have already been cleared. They'll be delivered in the morning.”
I offered a small smile and nod, and then she turned, giving a half-assed wave as she left.
I stepped out of my slides, lining them against the wall, then stowed my shower supplies and dropped my clothes into the bag we were using as a hamper.
The laundry facility had more than a dozen washers and dryers, enough to run everything at once without waiting on a single cycle to finish.
It was a convenience you didn’t notice until you didn’t have it, and I already knew I’d miss it when we got home, assuming we made it that far.
My gaze settled on Stella, the thought arriving before I had a chance to stop it.
If something happened to Liis and me, or worse, if something happened to Travis and Abby, there wouldn’t be time for careful decisions or gradual transitions.
Someone would have to step in immediately and make it feel like her world hadn’t just been pulled out from under her.
If we were all gone, I didn’t know where she’d end up.
Val was the closest answer that made any sense, but even that felt like a guess dressed up as a plan.
I forced myself toward what I could rely on instead of what I couldn’t control.
The Bureau wouldn’t leave her unaccounted for.
She’d be placed somewhere stable, somewhere vetted, somewhere she’d be cared for by people who understood what she’d lost even if they couldn’t replace it.
It was the best version of a solution for a situation that didn’t have one, and yet it did nothing to ease the guilt and anxiety building behind the thought.
Our wishes for who might raise Stella if not us or family was something Liis and I needed to decide, not in theory but in writing, something clear enough that no one would have to interpret it under pressure.
The very conversation you put off because saying it out loud made it real in a way thinking about it didn’t.
I knew we needed to have that dreaded discussion tonight. I also knew I didn’t want to be the one to start it.
I sat on the bed and leaned back against the pillow, surprised when the mattress softly contoured to my body instead of pushing back.
That unexpected level of comfort wasn’t an accident.
Care had gone into every detail to make the space feel like something other than a bunker, and where it counted, the budget had been stretched.
Marcel had built it for those inside to forget, at least in small moments, that it was an underground military grade facility.
A soft knock sounded against the frame before the door opened a few inches.
Travis leaned in, keeping his voice low. “Hey.”
“Hey,” I said, sitting up.
“Hey,” Liis said, sliding past him.
He glanced past me, eyes landing briefly on the crib, then Liis, then back to me. “Just came to say good night,” he whispered.
“Night,” I echoed.
He hesitated, shifting his weight, then looked back at me. “You got a minute?”
I read the tone more than the words. “Yeah, sure.”
Liis didn’t ask where or why. She didn’t need to. Her gaze moved from Travis to me, assessing, then she gave a small nod as if she’d already factored in a late-night visit.
“I’ll be right back,” I said. “Don’t fall asleep.”
“Take your time,” she replied, putting away her toiletries.
I stepped into the corridor and closed the door behind me with a soft click. Travis waited a few feet down, hands in the pockets of his shorts. He didn’t say anything right away. He just turned and began walking, expecting me to follow.
We moved through the hallway without drawing attention, passing closed doors, the muted sounds of the family settling in bleeding through the walls.
One of the nephews protested a bit too loud for that time of night, followed by a quieter correction.
Somewhere farther down, Oliver cried, sharp at first, then softer as Trenton or Camille picked him up.
Travis pushed open a wide door at the end of the corridor and stepped into the common area. It had been set up like a living space, scaled larger to accommodate more people. Sectionals, a few love seats, low tables, and lamps positioned to create pockets of light instead of one overhead source.
He crossed to one of the sofas and dropped into it, leaning forward, forearms anchored on his thighs. I took the seat opposite him, angled slightly so we weren’t squared off.
For a few seconds, we sat there in silence. The hum of the ventilation system filled the space, instead.
“Er… you doing okay?” he finally asked.
“I’m fine.”
He nodded as if he expected my answer. “Yeah.”
Another pause. He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, eyes dropping to the floor for a second before coming back up. “I’ve been thinking about it,” he said. “About what you did. With Olive.”
Her name landed where it always did these days, bordering on accusation.
“I don’t agree with it,” he continued, voice even. “I wouldn’t have made that call. Taking her, letting everyone believe she was dead…” He exhaled through his nose, not out of frustration but acknowledgment. “That’s not something I could’ve done.”
I held his gaze, waiting for the rest.
“But that’s why it had to be you,” he said, his voice thick with regret. “You’re the one who’s already done the hard things, covered for us, even took the blame before anyone had time to point fingers.”
My brows raised, surprised.
He leaned back, shoulders settling into the cushion, eyes still on me. “You weren’t trying to hurt anybody. You were trying to keep her alive, and you didn’t have a lot of options. I get it. I do.”
Of all my brothers, Travis wasn’t who I thought would be the first to set aside his emotions and consider things from my perspective. His words didn’t erase my guilt, but they weren’t supposed to. They just redistributed the weight in a way I hadn’t managed on my own.
“I understand the anger,” I began, but Travis interjected.
“I couldn’t have done it. That doesn’t mean it wasn’t the right thing do to.”
I let that sit, turning it over without pushing it away.
Travis watched me for a second, then nodded like he’d confirmed something for himself.
“When I was a kid, you were like a second dad. You made sure we had clean clothes every morning. You waited to walk us home from school every day.” He noted my expression.
“Yeah, I remember. It was a full-time job making sure we didn’t screw up too bad, and when we did before you could stop it, there were times you took the brunt of our punishments.
You were right the other day when you said it was always all on you.
And you never even got a fuckin’ thank you. ”
A faint sound of laughter carried down the hall, followed by a quick shushing. The bunker settled again.
“I looked up to you,” he continued. “And I want you to know I still do, Tommy.”