25. Easton
Easton
My phone vibrates from inside my gym bag, so I fish it out, already guessing who it is.
Gwen: Be down to the pool shortly with Dad, Natasha, and Emory. I know you’re worried why I’m running late.
Oh, you’re not here? Didn’t notice.
Gwen: Liar.
I shake my head—still shocked I’m actually sitting on a lounger by the indoor pool to begin with—and tuck my phone back into my gym bag as my sister approaches, pushing Illiana’s stroller.
“How’s your back?” She parks the stroller and drops onto the lounge chair next to me.
“Not bad. Nothing a few ibuprofen can’t fix.” I lift my hand, anticipating some warning or protest about . . . well, my back. “And don’t worry. I’m not taking off my shirt. I wouldn’t want to scare the kids.”
“Oh, um, that wasn’t on my mind at all.” She gives me her signature puppy dog eyes—ones her teenage son inherited and loves to weaponize when he wants something from any of us.
“Well, it’s on my mind. Don’t need to scare the kids with the whip marks there.” I immediately regret saying that when her frown deepens. “Anyway.” I tip my head toward the pool where her son is throwing a football with his dad. “How’s Colin doing with all this?”
I pick up the bourbon I already poured and stretch out, doing my best to get comfortable. To act like a man at a resort with family and friends, not an operator who killed several people the other day.
“He misses his girlfriend, but he’s fine.” She touches her temple where that son of a bitch hit her. “He’s like his father, though, and wants revenge. I’m going to have my hands full with him.”
“You already have your hands full,” I joke while the music turns on.
Jesse’s the one who synced his phone to the surround sound, which means we’re in store for country music.
He sneaks up on Ella while she’s chatting with Mya and grabs her by the waist. She squeals and he lifts her in one fast movement, then shifts sideways so they both hit the pool in a huge splash.
He seems better after our talk earlier. More relaxed, so that’s something.
Actually, everyone around me seems to have mastered the whole relaxing thing. Everyone except me. Even Carter is off in the hot tub with his wife while Oliver plays with their son in the water.
“You should swim, too,” I encourage my sister. “Finish that vacation of yours that got cut short. I can keep an eye on Illiana,” I offer.
“Maybe later.” She waves at Constantine, who’s staring back at her all dopey-eyed and in love. So much so, he gets whacked in the side of the head with the football by his son. He narrows his eyes, then dives under the water and goes after him.
“Those two.” Juliette lazily turns her head to peer at me again. “You suuuure you’re doing okay? And I don’t mean your back.”
“I’m sure I’m going to be.” I wink, then take a healthy swig of my drink.
I’ll have to switch to water after this one.
We may be off the clock for the rest of the day, but I don’t trust myself to loosen up too much.
I might open my mouth to more than just my sister and be a little too honest with my thoughts.
“Can I help get you closer to a state of being instead of a state of going to be?”
I lift my brows. That was a mouthful. Does she even know what she said?
“We should talk about what happened, no?”
“No is right.” I give her the best brotherly shit-eating grin I can manage before facing forward, eyeing the busy pool.
The music changes to “Sweet Home Alabama,” and some of the guys begin belting out the lyrics as if they don’t have a care in the world. Then again, we’re all so used to this kind of constantly-in-danger lifestyle, it’d be more concerning if they weren’t acting like this.
“Please talk to me.” I barely hear her plea over the bad singing. “Easton.”
I set my glass down on the side table and turn her way. “Yeah?”
“I won’t bug you,” she begins, preparing to do exactly that, “but just know if you ever want to talk, I’m here for you. You know, about anything.” She nervously works her lip between her teeth. “Spiritual stuff, too.”
“I’m all good in that department, don’t worry.” I’ll say whatever I need to, so she stops stressing out. “I know where I’m going.”
“And where is that?”
“Hopefully the same place as you,” I joke.
I’d be lying if I said I actually believe that. But whatever helps my sister sleep at night.
“Mm-hmm,” she murmurs under her breath. Thankfully my niece saves me from further interrogation by alerting everyone within hearing radius that she is done with her stroller.
While Juliette picks up Illiana, I lock my hands on top of my chest and stare at the ceiling, wishing it was the sun overhead instead. Maybe if I fake being relaxed for long enough, I’ll actually feel that way at some point.
Yeah, right.
That’s just as doubtful as Wyatt being chill when he gets down here, which reminds me. . .
I shut my eyes and replay the strange conversation we had upstairs in the hall.
Once outside my suite, the door firmly closed behind us, Wyatt had set his hands on the wall and bowed his head. “I can’t look at those cocksuckers’ faces on that screen and not want to pick up the laptop and throw it against the wall.”
I wasn’t about to rub the man’s back or hug him, like I’d have done if it was Gwen spinning out, so I shoved my hands into my pockets and remained a rigid statue off to his side. “They’re dead. I wish I could’ve kept them alive for you to kill yourself, but we know they’re being tortured in Hell.”
“What’s wrong with this world?” he gruffly asked.
“A lot.”
He shoved off the wall and turned toward me, drawing a hand to his chest as if he were on the verge of a heart attack.
“You need to have kids,” he said quietly. “Sons, if God’s willing.”
I faltered, lifting my hands from my pockets in confusion. “I’m sorry, what?”
He tore his hands through his hair, shaking his head as if he was unraveling.
“The world could use more men like you to raise the next generation of boys. You know, with morals. Men who’d never think about hurting—” He cut himself off and closed the space between us to wrap a hand over my shoulder, eyes tight on mine. “Do that for me, will ya?”
“Don’t have a wife, so . . .”
“You will one day.”
That conversation went a hell of a lot different than I anticipated. And as I’m sitting here thinking about it, I still can’t wrap my head around it. I’m not about to jump to the conclusion he was implying I have those kids with his daughter, but . . .
“Gwen’s here,” Juliette announces, and I sit taller and search out the woman I can’t get off my mind.
She’s in a bikini. Red. Her favorite color. It’s not even that revealing, my head’s just been in the gutter lately. She also has on a black see-through skirt knotted at her hip, and her long legs steal my attention as she strides over.
My gaze drifts higher, where it shouldn’t, then snaps to her father over her shoulder.
Thankfully, he’s not looking at me. I follow his line of sight to the pool, and to Julian as he gets hit in the face with the football—distracted because he was checking out Gwen.
Figures. So much for what he said on the plane.
When I pivot around, Gwen’s setting up the lounger next to me. She turns and bends over to lay out a towel, and—
Stop looking, dammit. I’m as bad as Julian.
I rip my eyes away from her and toward the rest of her family joining us. Natasha smiles and Emory waves her hello. Wyatt quietly nods his greeting before helping Emory into her life vest as Constantine gets out of the pool and starts our way.
“Weird to be hanging out by the pool,” Constantine remarks as he takes Illiana from my sister’s arms. “But it’s probably what we all need.”
Not so sure about that now.
“And where are the lovebirds who ordered you all down here in the first place?” Natasha smirks. “Ah, the hot tub.”
Once she’s buckled into her vest, Emory tugs on Wyatt’s swim shorts. “Daddy, will you throw me into the pool?”
“Of course, baby girl.” He hoists her up to his side, shoots me a funny look I have no idea how to read, then takes off.
“I’ll happily rock her back to sleep for you.” Natasha tips her head toward Illiana and opens her arms. “You two swim, or join the lovebirds in the hot tub.”
“Get in the jacuzzi with Carter?” Constantine grimaces before handing my niece over to Natasha. “Not happening.”
“Oh come on, you two are besties now, right?” Juliette swats his chest, and my brother-in-law swats her ass right back, not caring who’s watching.
“Don’t push your luck,” he says in a low voice before hauling her away from us and throwing her into the pool the way Jesse did with his wife.
Natasha heads for the splash pad with the others, leaving me here with Gwen.
Great.
She’s still standing, a blank look on her face as she messes with the knot of the skirt, not yet taking off the wrap.
I throw my legs around between our loungers and sit upright. “What’s wrong?”
Her eyes slowly journey up my body and to my face. “I thought I could do this.”
“You mean, relax?”
She shakes her head, then cups her breasts, so that’s, well . . . not what I needed to see. “My boobs are boobing.”
They most certainly are. Fuck.
“I’m wearing my favorite bikini and should feel good. Like myself.” She lifts her shoulders, letting go of her breasts.
But I still can’t breathe. Because it’s starting to click what the problem is, and I’m going to throw up.
“I don’t want those bastards to have power over me. To take anything away. To make me hate being in a bikini just because they made me take mine off and wear that jumpsuit,” she whispers, her voice catching.
My hands curl at my sides as I rise, ready to go to war for her. But they’re dead. They’re fucking dead already.
I also want to take her into my arms and hold her, but we have too many eyes on us, and she won’t want her dad to worry about her.
“What can I do for you?” I ask, walking over to her. I keep my back to the pool, eyes set on her and her alone.
She undoes the knot of the skirt and tosses it. “Help me wash away the memories of what happened.” Her voice breaks, nearly damaging my fragile sanity along with it. “Get me out of that dark place and away from them. Bring me back here.”
“Yeah, okay,” I agree without a second thought, because I’ll do anything for her.
She nods reluctantly, kicks off her sandals, then she gets a running start and dives into the deep end.
I follow her, knowing damn well I’ll follow this woman anywhere.
Once in the pool, I remain beneath the water and open my eyes to find her.
She’s not far away, facing me with eyes open while swimming in place.
My pulse slows, and the noise fades.
It’s just the two of us, trying to cut the cord on what happened on that island. An attempt to let go and wash it all away as if we’re in a baptism pool. Don’t think that’s how it works, but . . .
She closes the space between us and reaches for my hand. I lace our fingers together as we swim to the top. We break the surface, and she rapidly blinks her wet lashes, watching me closely.
“You okay?” I ask her.
“I’m better now.” Her gaze slides over my wet T-shirt that’s glued to my chest, and the way she’s looking at me . . .
What the hell is happening with us lately?
“Everything all right?”
Wyatt.
Shit.
I swivel around to find him on approach with Emory, and she takes off, swimming over to Gwen, splashing all of us.
“We’re fine,” Gwen answers while reaching for her sister. “I feel . . . cleansed, if that makes sense.”
“Oh.” Wyatt drags his hands through his wet hair, his throat moving with a visible swallow in understanding. “Uh, good.”
The music stops a beat later, and we all turn to see Jack at the edge of the deep end, waving us over. “How about a little friendly competition? Some underwater drills? Army. Navy.” He lifts his chin, eyeing me. “I suppose even Chair Force can join in.”
Like I haven’t heard that Air Force joke before. Or that all of us pilots are supposedly soft. I mean, in all fairness, some of us are. But Jack knows damn well what I’m capable of, he just enjoys messing around with me.
“Yeah, yeah. I wasn’t the one blasting ‘Barbie Girl’ from the inside of a Humvee while—”
“That’s the Marines,” Jack cuts in with a laugh, eyes on Mason.
Mason doesn’t miss a beat. “At least we were downrange in the action, not busy sweeping the sun off the sidewalk back at base.”
“Now you’re just trying to give me PTS-fuh—” Jack smartly stops himself, remembering kids are around, including his own son.
“He’s not wrong, though,” Oliver pipes up, smirking. “But don’t act like you didn’t play Katy Perry while rolling up on targets, either,” he shoots back at Jack.
“Yeah, uh, not to break up this lovefest,” Julian says, swimming over, “but I thought we were here to relax?”
“This is how we relax,” Jack grunts, and he’s not wrong about that. It’s not like we know how to sit around and be still. Memories and past trauma we don’t want to revisit are bound to creep in.
“How about guys against women?” Charlotte suggests, walking up next to Jack with their son at her hip. I’ve seen her behind the wheel of a car, driving like she’s in an F1 race, so I have a feeling she’s competitive in everything.
“Where’s Boss Man?” Jack twists around to locate Carter, who’s in the middle of helping Diana out of the hot tub. “What do you say?”
Carter drapes a sapphire-blue towel around Diana before they head over.
Diana leans into him, patting his chest. “Oh, come on, grump.”
I steal a quick look at Gwen as she spins Emory around in the water, her little sister cracking up laughing while stretching her arms out wide.
You’ll make a great mom one day. My chest tightens as I remember Wyatt’s words to me out in the hall again. No, no you weren’t talking about with her. No way.
I switch gears and turn back to the others.
They’re strategizing. Discussing the rules. Something about water guns now, too. You’d never think we just survived hell, and that we still have another nightmare of who’s behind all this in front of us.
“Well, what do you say?” Jack asks, since Carter’s yet to give his go-ahead.
Carter hesitantly nods, but I don’t miss the eye roll aimed Jack’s way.
But maybe Jack’s right. We’ll let off some steam now and cross the bridge of tomorrow when it gets here. Or blow it up if we have to.