Chapter 2
Harrison
“Gabe, I swear to God, if you made another Tinder profile with my name and a bare-chested bodybuilder avatar, I will personally end you.”
“I was trying to help. Get you back in the saddle.”
“You failed.”
The last thing I need is a comeback tour.
Though, a single night dedicated to showcasing my severely underutilized skill set to a voluptuous woman has a certain appeal.
“Failure is a harsh term.” Gabe shifts from offense to defense. “You’re the one who said you like women, and I quote, ‘natural.’”
“I meant not overly made up… not smuggling two baby Wookies under each armpit.”
Gabe snorts. “Wookies?”
Is he kidding me? I swear, this kid is a heathen. “You know, the big, furry guy in Star Wars.”
He snorts louder.
“It’s was a full-on code three yeti alert. In spaghetti straps.” I shiver as he chokes on a laugh. “One tried to make eye contact with me. Through the hair, Gabe. Through the hair.”
He wheezes, dying on the other end. “Just broadening your horizons.”
“Broadening my trauma is more like it.”
Our laughter dies, and I steer us back to the reason for his call. “So, what’s the favor?”
He exhales slowly, like he has to release the weight of the world. “It’s my sister…”
Something tightens low in my chest. “Is she okay?”
Gabe used to talk about his little sister—his hermanita—all the time during our deployments.
The baby of the family.
What the hell was her name?
“She’s heading to New York, and I could put her up at a hotel, but I just… need to know she’s somewhere safe.”
There’s a pause. Then a sigh so low and ragged, it feels like he’s trying to scrape the words off the bottom of his ribcage. Gabe’s never shy for words.
“Talk to me, man.”
“She’s been getting a little unwanted attention lately, and I—”
He stops, cutting himself off mid-thought.
Whatever he’s wrestling with, he needs backup. And Gabe rarely needs backup.
Instead of sipping my coffee and letting him shoulder it alone, I meet him halfway.
“Do you need me out there?”
“Not yet, but I might. I just need…” He pauses, thinking it through. “I need to stay out here a little longer and send her somewhere safe.”
My spine goes rigid, tension coiling tight between my shoulders. I know that edge in his voice.
Helpless frustration burrows to the bone.
I switch into protect mode. “Say no more. She can come here.”
She…
Hmm.
I press the heel of my hand into my eye socket, trying to remember…
Gah. What is her name?
I remember the photos. Dozens of them.
Braces. Thick glasses. A perpetual messy ponytail, always looking like she’d just rolled out of bed.
When we first deployed together, he showed me one shot of her in a wrinkled K-pop T-shirt she clearly made herself. She managed a look that only blissfully ignorant teenagers and the visually impaired can pull off.
“You mean stay with you?” he asks.
I stare at the phone. Has he lost his mind?
No. I do not mean stay with me. Between a job with more responsibility than a head of state and three kids who chip away at my sanity daily, I’ve got my own shit.
I mean, put her up at a hotel.
A nice one.
With twenty-four-hour security on rotating shifts.
But before I can finish the thought, relief pours through the line in a long, unspooled breath.
“Fuck, man. I don’t even know what to say. That would be…” He sucks in a breath. “It’s like I can breathe for the first time in days. Maybe even sleep.”
“I guess one of us should.”
“It won’t be for long. And I swear, you won’t even know she’s there.”
I highly doubt that.
“A couch. A corner. Anything.”
“A corner, Gabe?” I scoff. “What is she, a puppy? No. Your hermanita is not crashing on a wee-wee pad in the corner or on the damn couch. There’s plenty of space. When are you looking to send her out?”
“Um…” He pauses like he’s checking his watch. “She’s already heading out. Actually, she’s inbound to JFK and lands in three hours.”
“Gabe!”
“She’s quiet. Clean. A workaholic who keeps to herself,” he says. “She doesn’t even need a ride from the airport. I already booked a car service.”
I swirl my coffee as realization dawns. I’ve been bamboozled.
“You booked a car service?” I ask. “With my address?”
He chuckles guiltily. “Mama knew you’d say yes. She gave her the access code.”
I freeze. “What?”
“You gave it to Mama. Mama passed it along.”
Of course, she did.
“It’s your own fault for trusting her with your code.”
“Putting her up at your place would’ve been cruel, Gabe. Especially considering that crash pad you call a condo consists of a gaming chair and a blow-up bed.” I pause. “Or is it a blow-up doll?”
It’s both,” he deadpans. “And besides, man, we both know you’ve got a heart.”
“I do have a heart,” I say. “A small, Scrooge-sized one no one’s supposed to know about.”
“So, Mamá’s forgiven?” he asks.
I smile. Though I’ve never officially met Gabe’s mother, I have deep respect for a force to be reckoned with.
“Yes, she is. After her visit last year, your mama can do no wrong. When the kids and I got back from camping, the house was spotless. Fresh flowers everywhere. And a freezer full of addictive tamales.”
“She said your place needed a woman’s touch.”
I need a woman’s touch.
Shut up.
“Mi hermanita makes tamales, too,” Gabe adds.
Just the thought sparks my appetite. They’re so spicy I temporarily lose all feeling in my tongue, yet totally worth it.
I lay down my terms. “A dozen tamales for room and board.”
“Done.”
“Fine,” I groan, full of drama. “But if she starts organizing my shit—”
“Just threaten to steal her diary,” Gabe offers. “Trust me, it’s her kryptonite.”
Gabe’s baby sister keeps a diary? Christ, could she get any cuter?
Suddenly, I’m picturing Snooks sprawled on the floor, scribbling secrets into a sparkly, unicorn-covered notebook.
I head to the fridge to jot it on the shopping list, then stop.
What the hell?
Raw cookie dough.
Candy bars.
Enough energy drinks to fuel a rave.
Nice try.
I slash through every last item, knowing damn well I’ll cave when we’re in the sugar aisle at the grocery store and they go full-blown puppy-dog eyes.
At the bottom of the list, I add diary in cursive so the kids can’t read it, then smirk into the phone. “Diary, huh? Tell me your baby sister documented all the humiliating shit I can use to blackmail her big brother Gabe with later.”
“Maybe. But it’ll all be moot once you help me out with favor number two.”