Chapter 6 #2
The words kept coming, spilling out of some cracked place she hadn't known existed. She told him about the Aegis Network being her attempt to become human again. About learning to connect instead of observing. About the jury still being out on whether any of it was working.
"I'm not asking you for anything except honesty," she said. "Your friendship means more to me than the sex—although, for the record, the sex was pretty spectacular.”
His mouth twitched into a slight smile. Just barely. But she caught it, and her chest loosened.
“Not the only reason I want to be with you, but yeah, the sex is great.”
She laughed, and it sounded almost real. “This is usually where I’m the one running out the front door. Ask anyone I've ever dated. I have commitment issues that would make a therapist weep with joy."
He chuckled, leaning against the railing, and placed his hands on the old wood. “As I said, the only real one I had was ten years ago when I lived with Fallon. Which is still just weird because to this day, she’s one of my best friends.”
Dove rolled her eyes. “You’re lucky Buddy hasn’t come at you with a gun. He’s a jealous man.”
“Nothing for him to be jealous of. And while we always joke that we loved each other a little, and maybe we did—do—because I’d kill Buddy with my bare hands if he ever hurt her—it was more about our bond over shared grief and our love for the Everglades.
” He lowered his chin and grinned. “Do I need to be worried about you being jealous?”
“Of your past relationship with Fallon? God no.” And that was the truth.
“She and Buddy are so disgustingly in love, I want to vomit. The other day, he opened his lunch, and there was a note from Fallon with cute little hearts all over it. And she put in heart-shaped chocolates, and he was gaga over it.”
Trent dropped his head back and laughed. Hard. And the sound vibrated in her chest. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard him laugh like that. She was grateful that something in this world could bring that out in him.
He cleared his throat. “So, what are we doing?”
"Do we need to define it?" she asked.
"Most people do."
"Most people aren't us." She shrugged, trying for nonchalant and probably missing by a mile. “We’re not friends with benefits. And I would be pissed if you were with someone else, so I guess we’re a thing."
He held her gaze long enough that her stomach dropped and she was certain he was about to say “sorry, but I can’t after all.”
Then, he pushed from the railing and sauntered across the porch. He traced her lower lip with his thumb before cupping her chin. He took her mouth in a slow, deliberate kiss.
The sound of tires on gravel cut it way too short.
They both turned toward the driveway, and Dove's stomach dropped when she recognized the dark government-looking SUV making its way down the driveway.
Uncle Aaron. Of course. Perfect timing. Not to mention dangerously stupid to show up unannounced.
She felt Trent’s muscles go rigid. Watched his jaw tighten. Watched twenty years of grief and resentment surface in the span of a single breath.
"Did you invite him?" he asked, cold and sharp. The voice of a man who felt ambushed. He dropped his hand to his side and took a step back. “Just because I agreed, doesn’t give you the right—”
“I didn’t ask him to come this morning.” She kept her own voice careful, neutral.
“I don’t like pushy.”
“It can’t hurt to hear him out.”
“Not this fucking early.”
The SUV pulled to a stop on the other side of the moat.
One of the gators made itself known, mouth open and ready to strike.
Through the windshield, she could see her uncle sitting behind the wheel, waiting.
Giving them space—or maybe sizing up the gator.
It was the smart play. Slade had always been good at reading rooms, even rooms he wasn't in yet.
“I’m not in the mood for this. Dawson will be here shortly, and I want to prepare for that town meeting in a few days.”
“Uncle Aaron is a good man, and he knows Dutton, who’s backing that company, and—”
"I mean it. I don’t have the capacity to deal with his guilt this morning.” He turned, slamming the screen door behind him before she could respond.
Dove stood on the porch, caught between the man inside and the man in the SUV, wondering how the hell she'd ended up in the middle of this.
She didn't go after Trent. Didn't signal her uncle to leave or come in. Just stood there, watching the gators drift through the moat, waiting for something to break.
The screen door opened, and Trent stepped back onto the porch. "I'm sorry," he said. "For being a jerk, you didn’t deserve that.”
“I’d be upset, too.” She palmed his cheek. “I don’t know why my uncle thought it would be okay to show up here unannounced at this hour.”
He looked past her, toward the SUV where her uncle waited. “I suppose it must be important to him.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Tell him to come on up.”
“Thank you.”
She started down the porch steps. Behind her, she heard Trent go back inside. She didn't know what he was doing in there. Bracing himself, maybe. Preparing for a conversation he didn't want to have.
Or maybe—just maybe—finally moving his mother's sweater.