Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Keira
After breakfast, Mom and Stephie insisted on dragging us down Main Street to buy us a housewarming gift. They were on either side of Dean, talking both his ears off.
Brynn hung back with me. “Moving in.” She whistled. “That’s a big step.”
Thank you, I thought with relief. Someone was going to point out how ridiculous this was.
“Do your worst, B. Tell me what you’re really thinking. Brutal honesty.”
She laughed. “You sure?”
I made a beckoning gesture with my hand.
“I’m thinking… I didn’t actually expect Dean to get his shit together. But he did. You’ve been inseparable since he showed up at your place with that groveling basket. It’s clear a lot has happened in the last few days since I saw you.”
“You don’t think I forgave him too easily?”
“That’s not my call. If you think the timing’s right, then it’s right.”
“But in just over a month, I went from telling him to get out of my hospital room to moving in with him.”
“Do you want me to have an issue with this?”
Yes. Yes, I do.
“No. I’m just nervous.”
“Of course you are. It’s been a rough month.
You’re still healing, the sheriff’s department still doesn’t have any suspects in your shooting, and Dean’s suddenly back confessing his love for you.
” She stopped walking, pulling me beneath the shade of an awning.
Nobody else was around. “You’re worried about your mom and Stephie too. ”
I’d texted with Brynn about the broken window at my house.
The implicit threat against my family. She’d promised to arrange discreet protection for them through Last Refuge.
But as for the rest of what Dean and I were up to, she had no clue.
It wouldn’t be right to ask her to lie for me or drag her into this revenge plan.
“I am,” I said. “You’re right. I’ve been really stressed. But doesn’t that mean I should slow down with Dean?”
“Let me ask you this. Are you happy with him?”
How could I answer that question with a straight face? How could I lie to one of my closest friends about something like this?
“I want to be,” I said.
Her face scrunched. “Okay. That’s not very specific. Is he treating you well? Telling you how crazy he is about you? And do you feel the same about him? Does kissing him make you dizzy in the best possible way?”
“All of the above.” My chest was clenching so hard I could barely breathe.
“Then that’s all you need for now. It makes sense for you to stay with someone given the danger still out there, and if Dean’s being the ideal guy, why not him?
If it doesn’t work out, everyone will go on with their lives.
But maybe you’ll look back someday, and there’ll be an incredible happy ending to all you’ve gone through. Like Cole and me.”
“You and Cole do have an enviable HEA.”
She shrugged. “I know. It’s like we’re made for each other or something.” We started walking again to catch up to the others. “And speaking of my handsome guy, Cole needs me back in Mexico. Now that you’re spending all your time with Dean in your new love nest, I can probably head back.”
Shit, how selfish was I? “Absolutely. Book your flight. Just know, I couldn’t have made it through the last few weeks without you. I’m so grateful for everything.”
She winked. “I’ve loved being here with you. I hope I don’t need you to return the favor, but if I do, I know you’ll be there.”
When we caught up to Mom, Stephie, and Dean, he gave me a warm grin and reached for my hand. We shopped around, enjoying Main Street, but my mind was on everything Brynn had said.
Mom and Stephie would take it hard when Dean and I eventually “broke up.” But they’d survive.
I had to figure out how I was going to survive this.
It wasn’t even about me or my heartache. Not anymore. Now, I knew that Dean had been hurting too.
Maybe it wasn’t true at all that he’d broken my heart two years ago. I’d broken my own heart by expecting something that Dean wasn’t able to give me. And that just made me sad for him.
Where Dean was concerned, it was time to finally let my romantic hopes go.
He had come back to Colorado for me. So I was going to be here for him, too. As a partner in this mission. A friend.
That was all I could ever be.
“We’ll start with the basics.”
Dean set a long, narrow case on the floor, using a small key to unlock it. Then opened the lid, unveiling the disassembled pieces of dark metal nestled into custom-cut foam.
My gaze moved eagerly over the barrel and the scope. I crossed my arms, feeling a slight twinge in my shoulder, but I was free of the sling now. Thank goodness.
I nodded. “Let’s do it.”
He looked up at me from where he was kneeling, a hint of a smile pulling at his lips.
In the last two weeks, I’d settled into a new routine as Dean’s roommate, strange as that sounded. The armoire in the bedroom was full of my clothes and belongings. The downstairs bathroom had shelves laden with my hair and skin products, and I’d been putting my mark on the rest of the house too.
I refused to live in a place with nowhere to sit in the living room and no table to eat. It had actually been fun picking out a few items at secondhand stores. Another glimpse into the friendship Dean and I had shared before, when things had been so easy between us.
Also, Mom and Stephie had loved helping. I swear, they liked Dean even more than they liked me.
Now, I was six weeks into my recovery. More than ready to get training again. As much as I could, anyway. Still no actual shooting allowed.
And no word yet on the pictures we’d shared with River from our visit to Donny Phelan’s mansion. But I thought I was showing admirable patience, thank you very much.
Dean pushed back that unruly long hair of his. It kept slipping into his face, though he’d tied it back in its usual knot. “This is my Knight’s Armament SR-25. The same weapon I used for Marine Force Recon missions as a sniper.”
“You were Force Recon? I didn’t know that.” Just one more small detail about Dean’s life that he occasionally dropped like breadcrumbs.
He nodded, eyes still on the disassembled rifle. “For a while. As a sniper, this weapon was my best friend. I took it with me when I became a strategic asset carrying out less official assignments.”
His fingers traced across the matte black pieces in their foam nests.
We were in the living room, and this space was much cleaner than before, all the tools and sawhorses put elsewhere. But aside from the addition of a couch, it was still sparsely furnished. Plenty of room to move.
Room for the memories that were no doubt filling Dean’s mind, too.
“You are okay with this, right?” I asked. “I want to learn, but…” As far as I knew, he still hadn’t actually held a gun in years.
But holding a weapon wasn’t the same as firing it. Firing it wasn’t the same as aiming a kill-shot at a living person.
Loopholes, right? These days, I was living in the loopholes. Sharing a home with Dean, though we couldn’t ever really be together. Touching him when we were out in public, while knowing it meant nothing.
“I’m good, Keira. I promise.” With no further hesitation, Dean lifted the barrel from the case. “Let’s go over the architecture of this fine precision weapon, piece by piece.”
He showed me the upper and lower receiver, the bolt carrier group. The Leopold Mark 4 scope and the suppressor.
It sure was something, watching Dean smoothly assemble and take apart the rifle. Everything the man did was sexy to me, but when he was using his warrior jargon and being all proficient?
Maybe I had a competency kink.
“Keira? Did you get that?”
“Um, yep. Clockwise. Got it.”
“I’m not boring you, am I? Should we break for lunch?” He was smirking, so I smirked back.
“Nope. I can keep going. I can go as long as you can.”
His smile turned more devious for a second, heat flaring in his eyes. Then it was gone. He cleared his throat. “As I was saying.”
After Dean finished my introduction to the KAC SR-25, he opened up a second case. The contents of this one were more familiar to me.
A Glock 19 and a SIG Sauer P226, both with threaded barrels for suppressors. And a whole bunch of wicked-looking knives.
Dean lifted the knives and identified them, one by one. “Benchmade Nimravus fixed blade. Gerber Mark II. Folding Emerson CQC-7.”
“You’ll show me how to use them?”
“When you’re ready. I’ll show you anything you want.”
He’d said that in a husky, deep voice. Dean’s eyes were intent on the knives, so I didn’t think he was flirting or making some kind of innuendo. But my brain still wanted to make it dirty.
Just friends, I reminded myself.
Just. Friends.