Chapter 28
Harrison
“In-con-theeev-a-bul,” I declare, dragging out each syllable out.
The kids dissolve into tired giggles, collapsing over each other on the sofa in a heap of blankets and limbs.
For storytime, Connor insisted on action. Ollie wanted pirates. Snooki demanded princesses. And, a wedding.
The Princess Bride is the only story that satisfies every last demand.
I’ve been reading it for so long I don’t need the book anymore. The words live in my memory now, tucked somewhere between tying shoes and packing lunches.
And when Snooki’s laughter slips into a yawn and Ollie slumps sideways, I know I’ve got maybe twenty minutes before they’re all out.
Connor pretends not to be interested, eyes glued to his phone, yet he’s quick to correct me when I say Inigo. “I think you mean Fezzik, Dad.”
He’s right. But I can’t say that and risk his head consuming the room. “I was just testing you.”
Pix is curled into my armchair, surrounded by things from Snooki’s closet my daughter outgrew but couldn’t part with.
A tulle skirt becomes two frilly sleeves. Mismatched satin ribbons twist into a crown. I’m not sure what Fraulein Maria raided for the long cape, but the result is unmistakable. Every stitch says princess.
Her smile goes wide when I slip into my best high-pitched royal voice, and Snooki spins like she’s already wearing the crown.
“We must not begin with secrets from each other…” My words trail off.
Because I am keeping secrets from Pix.
And it’s wrong.
Her doe eyes meet mine. “Everything okay?” she asks, a faint frown pulling at her brow.
I paint on a smile. “Peachy-keen.”
Another half hour of reading passes, and two of my three are asleep.
Pix rises on cue. “I’ll take Snook?” she offers.
I pull Connor into a quick bro hug. “Night, man.”
“Night, Dad.”
Ava kisses his cheek, hugs him goodnight, then scoops up Snooki with ease. Yeah. She got the easy one. Snooki weighs about as much as a slice of bread.
I grab Ollie, grunt as my back pops, and carry him down the hall. I’m fairly certain he gained another five pounds overnight.
What’s he eating? Cereal laced with lead?
I tuck Ollie in and check in on Snook.
Pix is already out of the room, but she’s tucked Snooki in the way she likes best. Bundled tight with her favorite blanket pulled to her chin.
As soon as I lean in and kiss her head, one eye cracks open.
“Say it, Daddy.”
I lower my voice to a whisper. “Second star to the right,” I murmur, “and straight on till morning.”
Snooki sighs, a soft, contented sound that settles somewhere deep in my chest.
“Daddy?”
“Yeah, Snook.”
“Can Princess Luna stay with us?”
My chest tightens. Harder than it has any right to.
“Princess Luna has her own castle,” I say gently.
She yawns, blinking sleepily. “I asked Momma to send you a princess,” she murmurs. “And she did.”
I brush the hair from her cheek, thumb lingering for just a second. “Your momma will always look after you, Snooki Pie.”
Her hand lifts, patting my cheek, clumsy with sleep. “You, too, Daddy.”
I manage a smile, tuck the blanket back around her shoulders, and stand before the moment can crack me open any further.
I click off the pink lamp and pull the door mostly shut.
When I turn, I catch movement. A shadow slipping into Connor’s room.
I follow it.
The door is cracked, but I knock anyway.
“Come in,” Pix says.
She’s perched on the edge of the bed, script in her hands. Her eyes stay glued to the page as she swipes at her cheeks.
I lean against the doorframe. “Eavesdropping can be hazardous to your mascara.”
“I don’t wear mascara,” she scoffs, snapping the pages together. “And I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Is that so?”
She nods too fast. “Yeah. I was just…” She fumbles with the script, fingers suddenly all thumbs. “Memorizing lines.”
She sniffs.
I tip my chin toward the pages in her hand. “Your script’s upside down.”
“Oh.” She turns it. Pauses. Flips it again. “Right. That would probably help.”
I push off the doorframe and cross the room, grab a tissue from the nightstand, and hold it out to her.
She hesitates before taking it. “Thank you.”
“Snooki’s just enamored with you,” I say gently. “We all are.”
Her doe eyes widen.
Shit.
That was your outside voice, you idiot.
“I mean the kids,” I add quickly. “The kids are all enamored with you. I mean, who wouldn’t be, when they’re in the presence of Princess Luna?”
Her gaze lifts to mine, warm and unguarded. And so fucking beautiful.
“We had a terrific day today,” she says softly. “They’re amazing kids. If you need help, I’m here all week. I could stay—”
“No.”
The word comes out too sharply. Too fast. Like a door slamming in her face.
“No,” she repeats, smaller. And there it is. The hurt, clear and unmistakable in her eyes.
Hell. I might as well have told her she wasn’t welcome.
But she is.
She feels like home.
Shut up. You’re not allowed to want that.
She needs to be somewhere safe. And my kids need to be out of the line of fire.
I say it like a fact, even if it feels like a lie.
She nods, understanding written all over her face. “They’re… incredible.”
“They’re a pack of feral raccoons,” I say. “But they clean up nice.”
Her laugh slips out before she can stop it. Soft and sweet and gone too soon.
Then our eyes meet.
The humor fades as electricity swirls all around us.
She catches her lower lip between her teeth, and whatever restraint I have left frays fast. Way too many inappropriate thoughts crowd in, all of them about a woman sitting on my son’s bed.
For one suspended, reckless second, it feels like we’re standing at the edge of something neither of us is brave enough to face.
Then my gaze catches on the photo of the kids and me at the lake, and reality crashes back in.
Their needs come first. Always. Including Pix.
I blink and find her suitcase by the door. An out. Thank God.
“I think I can fix that.”
She frowns. “What?”
“The lock on your suitcase. It’s busted. I can fix it.”
“Oh.” She shrugs, like I didn’t just take a torch to a bridge. “You don’t have to do that. I wouldn’t want to keep you.”
Ouch.
“It’s really not a problem,” I say, already moving. “It’ll just take a minute.”
She studies me for a beat, then ducks her head and goes back to her script. “Sure. Knock yourself out.”
I crouch, frowning at the busted lock. TSA’s not usually that careless, especially when the thing is prebuilt for their universal key. TSA 007 is stamped right on the metal.
I unzip the suitcase and spot a folded piece of paper.
TSA leaves notices all the time after random searches.
I almost dismiss it as routine.
Almost.
But something about it is wrong.
I glance up to make sure Pix is still absorbed in her script, then ease the suitcase open just a little more and unfold it.
olly
olly
oxen
free
Oh, Ava… you’ll never get away from me.
My breath stops as Gabe’s words crash through my head.
Ava can’t know.
You can’t tell her.
But I also can’t leave the fucking suitcase here. Not now.
I need a team on it. Immediately.
Which means I also need a way to do it without setting off alarms.
Think.
Pix’s lips move soundlessly as she reads. Focused.
Then, without looking up, she says, “You’re staring.”
I snap the suitcase closed. Fast.
“Actually,” I say, making it up as I go, “I wanted to, uh, show you something.”
Her brow furrows as she looks up. “What? Something with my suitcase?” She hops to her feet.
“No.” I step into her path before I can think better of it, then gesture toward the window. “It’s… outside.” I force casual into my voice. “It won’t take long.”
She glances out into the dark, then back at me. “It’s dark.”
“Exactly.”
Confused, she studies me. Then she deadpans, “Is this where you take me into the woods to butcher me? Because that feels very on brand for a lumberjack first date.”
I chuckle, a little too tight, and reach for my phone. “It’s cute how you think I’m asking you out on a date.”
She looks out the window again and rubs her arms, like she can already feel the cold.
“I’ll just grab a sweater from my suitcase.”
“No.” I step in before she can move, sliding neatly between her and the suitcase. “You California people never own real winter clothes. I’ve got plenty of coats out front. You’re welcome to any of them.”
She narrows her eyes. “You’re acting weird.”
I am acting weird.
I force a smile and gesture toward the door. “Just… being hospitable. Your family would never forgive me if you caught a cold.”
She watches me for a long beat. “At least tell me where we’re going.”
“And ruin the surprise?”
She plants both hands on her hips. “I hate surprises.”
“No, Pix. I hate surprises. You love them. Your brother told me as much.”
Her mouth twitches, caught between a protest and a smile. Then she turns and heads for the door.
I fall in step behind her, already firing off a rapid succession of texts to my team.
Me
Alpha Team Alert
My house. Connor’s Room.
Crazy-looking backpack. Loud purple suitcase.
Full search.
Remove all things threatening or suspicious.
“Are you coming?” Pix asks.
She’s already in my shearling jacket, drowning in it. Sleeves past her hands. Collar brushing her chin.
My traitorous brain instantly pictures her naked underneath.
I clear my throat. Hard.
“Um. Coming. Yes.” Shit. “One sec.”
Me
And if you wake my kids, I will kill you.
A thumbs-up emoji pops back immediately from A.T.
I pocket my phone and lead her through the kitchen and out the back door.