Chapter 28
Twenty-Eight
Colt
Soft, steady breaths.
Choppy breathing.
Yup. Definitely two people in this room with me.
I open one eye and there she is, my favorite four-year-old. I immediately hear her voice in my head, correcting me—four and three quarters!—and I smile to myself.
“Good morning,” I say.
“What are you guys doing?” she asks, frowning.
Is this a trick question?
Before I can come up with an appropriate response Briar’s eyes pop open, and instead of the warmth, love, and passion from last night, I see and feel immediate tension.
Crap. What’s that about?
Are kids not supposed to see their parents in bed together? Maybe not when they’re not married? I don’t know but I need to find out and I can’t do that while I’m naked in the same room as my kid. So, I make a circle motion with my forefinger.
“Turn around, kiddo.”
“You have to put your pants on again?!” She whirls, hands on her hips, muttering under her breath, and I manage not to laugh as I grab my sweats and Briar reaches for a robe. “Mommy, do we have time to cuddle?”
“Not today.” Briar’s tone is gruff, unlike her.
“Go into the kitchen and decide what you want for breakfast, Frankie,” I say gently. “We’ll be right out.”
“Fine.” Frankie glances back over her shoulder, narrows in on me—like the fact that there’s no time to cuddle is somehow my fault—and then disappears out the door and down the hallway, her feet making little pitter-patter sounds until they fade away.
“Good morning, beautiful.” I follow Briar into the bathroom.
“Morning.” She doesn’t turn around but leans her back against my front, allowing me to slide an arm around her waist, press kisses along the side of her neck.
“You okay?”
“Mm hm.” Then she busies herself at the sink, reaching for her toothbrush. A gentle but poignant dismissal. Since my stuff isn’t in her bathroom, and I need to clean up too, I simply kiss her and smile.
“I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”
“Okay.”
I take care of business in record time, but Briar still beats me to the kitchen, looking pretty damn refreshed and awake for someone who was up half the night cuddling and whispering with me.
Frankie’s up on her stool, helping Briar unload and put away everything from the dishwasher, and I stand there watching for a moment. Taking it all in.
Fuck, this was supposed to be my life while I was rotting away in that damn prison.
My beautiful girls, including the one I didn’t know existed until a month ago.
I never imagined a life as incredible as the one I’m currently living. It’s so much better than anything I wrote in my letters to Briar or the fantasies that kept me alive while I was imprisoned.
There is no national pride or call to serve that’s stronger than what I feel watching my girls together, here in…our house. Realistically, I’m still a guest, but I’m doing everything in my power to change that. To become a staple in both their lives.
I don’t know what I’m going to do for money going forward—the amount I made the last five years is hefty—but I’m only thirty-one. I can’t support a family, put a kid or two through college, and have enough to retire with what I have. Which means finding a job.
All I know is it won’t be as a spy.
I am never leaving my girls again.
Except one of my girls is uneasy this morning. Posture rigid, movements jerky, interactions with Frankie short and terse.
Something is bothering her, and I’m not going to let whatever it is fester. If I did something wrong, or pushed her too far, I need to know. Find a way to fix it.
“Frankie, would you run to my room and find my brown socks?”
I don’t own a pair of brown socks.
“Okay!” She takes off like a shot, and I feel a moment of guilt for duping her, but she’ll find regular socks in five seconds, and I need more than that to talk to Briar.
“Babe.” I still the movement of her arms, holding them gently with my hands. “Look at me.”
She freezes, but then turns slowly.
“What’s wrong?” I ask quietly. “Did I do something you didn’t want me to do last night?”
Eyes wide, she continues to stare at me for a beat. “We didn’t use…protection.”
“We didn’t…” I pause in confusion. “You’re not on anything?”
Flare of irritation. “I never had any reason to be on anything.”
“You and West weren’t using protection?” I ask in shock.
“Not that it’s any of your business,” she shoots back, “but West and I didn’t have sex. It never got that far. Not with him, not with anyone else.”
“You didn’t…” A million scenarios race through my mind but there’s something niggling at the edge of my psyche. An idea that—holy shit. Did she subconsciously wait for me despite believing I was dead? Did she…really do that?
Fuck, I love this woman.
“I haven’t been with anyone since you either,” I say quietly, so she understands she’s not alone in this.
“You haven’t…” She stares, blinking a few times, as if she’s finding it hard to believe.
“Well, there was a strict curfew during training and then it’s not like a Siberian prison is big on romance. At least, not for straight guys.”
“Oh.” Her expression softens, her eyes suddenly a little teary. “Colt.”
“Don’t cry, baby.” I brush a tear away with my thumb.
“You know how I feel about you. I knew you were it for me, so as long as I was alive, there wasn’t going to be anyone else.
” I shake my head in frustration. “Of course, you’d know that if you’d gotten the damn letters.
I wrote to you every week while I was in training, telling you how I felt, making plans for us…
I didn’t know they weren’t sending them. I’m so fucking pissed about that.”
“Do you still have them?” she asks after a moment.
“I do. They’re in a box somewhere back in D.C.”
“I’d like to read them sometime.”
“I can have someone send them.” I brush my knuckles along her cheek. “Don’t worry about anything, baby. I’ll take care of protection going forward, but no matter what happens, I’m not going anywhere. We’ll deal with anything and everything together. Because I love you too.”
For the first time today, her smile hits her eyes and she’s just leaning up for a kiss when Frankie storms back into the kitchen.
“Daddy! You don’t have any brown socks!”
“They must be in the laundry,” I reply solemnly. “Sorry about that. Did you bring me white ones?”
She proffers a pair of white—the only color I currently own—socks.
“Thanks, sweetie. Now you need to eat some breakfast.”
“Are you both taking me to school today?” She looks from me to her mother.
“Do you want us to?” I ask.
I’ve been trying to let her guide our progress as father and daughter, so she doesn’t feel pushed or uncomfortable. My sudden appearance in her life has to be jarring, so Briar suggested we let her decide when she’s ready to take the next step. Like her impulsively calling me Daddy yesterday.
That was one of the greatest moments of my entire fucking life.
And now—
“You should come, Daddy. So you can meet my friends.” Her eyes sparkle with excitement.
Briar glances at me. “It’s a good idea for you to meet her teachers, learn the routine. I’ll put your name on the approved pick-up list while we’re there too. Otherwise, security is probably tighter than a Siberian prison.”
Her eyes twinkle—I’m so glad she’s comfortable enough to joke about what happened to me, because I refuse to let it impact my life going forward—and my chest squeezes with happiness.
I love everything about this. About them.
Ten years ago, the boys and I would have died laughing imagining a scenario like this. Me and the woman in my life taking our four-year-old to preschool. Together. Like it’s a two-person job.
But twenty-one-year-old me had no idea what this future was going to look like. And in a way, I’m glad. I wouldn’t have wanted to know how much I was going to love Briar because then I might not appreciate it as much as I do.
As we’re walking out to the car, I snake an arm around her waist and draw her back, whispering in her ear, “What are the chances of you calling in sick today?”
She smiles up at me, batting her eyelashes playfully. “They’re pretty good if we stop for condoms on the way home.”