Chapter Seventy
Phoenix
A sixth sense woke me from a dead sleep, and I palmed my Sig before opening my eyes to pitch-black.
Halting my breath for three seconds, I listened, but I already knew ma petite intruse wasn’t in bed.
Waiting another two seconds for my vision to adjust to the darkness, I touched the cool sheets next to me, then scanned the room.
Nothing.
Getting up, my steps silent, I paused in the hall outside Linc’s closed door and listened.
Nothing.
I opened the door.
Bed, en suite—both empty.
Weapon at the ready, I cleared the hall, stepped into the open-plan living space, and scanned.
Living room, dining room, kitchen—all empty.
Then I saw them.
Spread out on a stack of blankets from the house, their heads on pillows from the couch, my intruse and my son were lying on the back lanai.
I made a quick trip back to the bedroom to throw on a pair of jeans. Then I exfilled the house and aimed.
Isla looked up as I approached and held a finger to her lips.
She shouldn’t have bothered. Like me at that age, when Lincoln actually slept, he was down for the count.
“What are you doing out here?”
She glanced fondly at Lincoln before looking back up at me. “He’d never seen the Milky Way, and there’s almost no moon tonight.” Her gaze went to the night sky. “Seemed like a perfect night for it.”
“How did you know?” It’d been a week of all of us under the same roof, and each day, I discovered something she’d learned about my son that I hadn’t. I was still reconciling the process. Lincoln, however, wasn’t.
“Know what?” she asked distractedly.
Shoving my Sig into my back waistband, I lay down beside her. “That he’d never seen the Milky Way.”
“He told me.”
I’d only heard them discuss constellations the first day they met. Even then, it was mostly Isla telling him about them. “He talks about stars?” He only talked about his mother or music to me. Sometimes he’d ask about my service, but that was thankfully rare.
She shrugged. A habit she’d seemed to pick up from my son. “He talks about a lot of things.”
My chest both swelled and constricted. “Like?”
She turned on her side to face me. Then her voice dropped to a low whisper. “He misses his mother. A lot.”
“I know.” Sliding an arm under her, I pulled her close as I glanced at my sleeping son.
He looked so damn much like me at that age, but I also saw his mother in him now—what I remembered of her.
Her smile, mostly. Lincoln had it. But when he wasn’t using it, I saw the deep sorrow in his eyes, saw how much he missed the woman who’d raised him on her own.
The thought made me hate the Vice Admiral even more.
“I can’t be his mom, Will.”
I looked down at Isla. “I’m not asking you to.” This was a subject she’d carefully avoided since I’d moved her in. Now, I was realizing my mistake in not addressing it again.
A tear slid down her cheek. “But he really needs one.”
Unfamiliar tension settled in. “He needs positive reinforcement, boundaries, and love.” Two of which I’d never had. “He’ll be okay.” Eventually. I’d make sure of it. But right now, ma petite intruse wasn’t all right. “What’s going on?”
“I can’t be a mother.”
“So you said.”
“You’re not hearing me.”
Yes, I was. “I’m not asking you to be anything other than who you are, Isla.
” I’d sexually bred the fuck out of her, but I hadn’t told her I wanted more children, and she’d never said she wanted any of her own.
She knew this season of my life was about Lincoln.
She made it her season too—or so I’d thought.
Abruptly standing, she took the blanket that’d been draped over her and Lincoln with her. Without another word, she walked back into the house.
My son groggily blinked open one eye, then the other, and smiled. “Hey.” His voice rough, he cleared his throat. “What are you doing out here?”
“Watching the Milky Way.”
He looked up. “It’s pretty cool, right? Isla showed me.” Suddenly frowning, he glanced at the makeshift bed of blankets and scanned the yard. “Where did she go?”
I clocked his movements. Whether he knew it or not, he was already developing the skills of situational awareness. “Inside.”
“Oh.” He yawned. “I guess I fell asleep. Should we go inside too?”
“Ever watch the sun rise?”
He half smiled. “A few times.” His expression dropped along with his voice. “But, um, never on purpose.”
Noting the catch in his tone, I grabbed a blanket from under me and tossed it over him. “I say we change that.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes.” I laced my hands behind my head and looked up at the stars. “Tell me something about your mother.” Isla had been right a week ago. It was important for Lincoln to be able to talk about her.
For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. Then he downloaded. “She was the nicest person I knew. She made me pancakes every morning. The good kind, like, from scratch? Even after she got sick, she still got up and made them for me before school because she knew they were my favorite.”
His favorite food—that same food Isla had been making every day for him for breakfast.
“I’m sorry I didn’t know her better.” I looked at my son. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when she passed.”
Tears slid down his face. “It’s okay.”
It wasn’t.
I gave us both a minute. Then I manned up. “Remember our pact?”
“Yeah,” he replied hesitantly.
Turning my head, I looked at my son. “It’s not okay, Lincoln.”
Green eyes met mine.
“I should’ve been there for you, especially when you needed me most. You should’ve had a father.
Your mom should’ve had help.” Full fucking stop.
“Don’t ever placate or appease me, especially not at the expense of your own emotions.
” Making sure he understood me, I repeated what I needed him to hear.
“What you and your mom went through was not okay. What the Vice Admiral did was unconscionable. I grew up with only one parent, but you didn’t have to.
That choice was taken from both of us, and I’d do anything to walk it back.
” I wanted to kill the Vice Admiral every damn time I so much as thought of him.
“But I can’t change the past. All I can do is be here now.
” And make damn sure my son knew he had me—no matter what.
“I’m not going anywhere, and you’re entitled to feel any way you want.
Bad, good, everything in between. Your feelings matter.
Nothing you say will change anything between us. Understood?”
His Adam’s apple moved with a hard swallow.
“Yes.” He looked back up at the sky and was quiet for ten seconds.
Then tears welled, spilled down his face, and my kid’s voice broke on an angry whisper.
“I was really mad.” Choking on a sob, he kicked me in the chest with his next words.
“I’m really mad at everything.” He fucking fell apart.
I wrapped my arms around him.
“Why did she have to die?” He cried harder. “Why did she leave me?”
No answers, I didn’t say anything.
I held my grieving son.