Chapter 37
ELENA
“Let me wash the dishes.” I try to edge closer to the sink, but the big man beside me is an immovable object.
“Absolutely not.”
“You just cooked a delicious dinner and didn’t allow me to help with a single thing.”
Buck presses his lips together and sighs, as if I’m the one being unreasonable.
“And you never have a moment of downtime. Sit back down.” He gestures with his chin to the most comfortable chair in his living room, and though it’s definitely an order, the tenderness in his eyes softens it enough that I’m willing to obey.
I curl back into the big chair, tucking my legs under me before I reach for my glass of wine. The TV’s playing a home renovation show, but the volume’s low, and I only glance at the screen occasionally.
It’s so peaceful out here at Buck’s house, even quieter than in town, and Moon Ridge is already a pretty quiet place.
And it is a treat to just sit and do nothing.
There’s no immediate crisis demanding my attention.
No homework to oversee. No paperwork to catch up on.
Just a cozy chair and a handsome man who’ll hopefully take me into his bedroom soon.
As I take a sip of the rosé, a text alert pings, and even though I’m halfway through my second glass of wine, panic still flutters in my chest as I grab for my phone.
The message is a picture, and I relax a second after I tap it.
T.J.’s sitting on the floor between Atlas and Boyd, baby blocks stacked in front of them, towering in a way a toddler could never manage.
As I’m zooming in on my son, I notice Silas sitting behind them, watchful as ever, and I laugh to myself.
When Kira told me she wanted to invite T.J.
over so her men could practice their dad skills, I assumed it was just an excuse to give me a night off.
I’m still certain that was Kira’s main objective, but it looks like the men actually are getting some practice in, too.
It won’t be long before the baby arrives, and dad duty becomes a full-time job.
A text message follows: “He’s having fun. We’ve got him. Stop worrying for five minutes.”
She knows me too well. I take another drink of wine and send a brief but grateful reply.
I have been relaxing. Mostly. I know T.J.’s safe at the Sentinel compound, and Buck spoiled me with a perfectly cooked steak, roasted potatoes, asparagus, and a salad I strongly suspect he prepared by glaring at it until it assembled itself.
There was kissing, too, before and after the meal, all of it with wine-soaked lips and roaming hands. I was tempted several times to tell Buck I wanted to skip dinner altogether, but the food smelled too good.
The only thing that mars the evening just a little, besides the risk of danger always on my mind, is the awareness that Weston and Calder are nearby, and I’m not with them.
It’s not a preference or a competition. If I were with one of them, I’d be missing Buck just as much as I’m missing them.
Even though the men have shared a woman before, I don’t know exactly what that looked like for them, and I haven’t asked.
Things are still developing with the four of us, and with work and T.J.
and everything else going on, our unconventional relationship hasn’t settled into anything resembling normalcy.
All I know is I enjoy any time I get with them, whatever it looks like, and I’m planning to enjoy tonight to the fullest.
A few minutes later, as I’m watching a reveal of someone’s new dining room, Buck’s phone rings. He dries his hands, takes the call, responds to whoever it is in clipped tones, then clicks off.
“Calder and Weston are outside. They want to talk a minute,” he tells me as he heads for his boots by the door. “I’ll be right back.” He looks more serious than usual, which is saying something, but maybe he’s just irritated about interrupting our evening.
After he steps out through the back door, I return my attention to the program and tell myself not to be curious, but that only lasts about a minute.
When I mute the TV, the murmur of male voices from outside becomes more prominent. They sound close to the house, close enough that I hear my name.
I can’t even pretend to be a woman who can hear her name through a wall and not start paying full attention—especially when it’s coming from men I’m involved with, and threats are hanging over all our heads.
I set my glass down and go over to the door, which is unlatched.
Weston’s voice is the first I hear clearly. “She needs to know what the options are.”
Then Calder, lower and rougher. “Not like that.”
Options. A cold knot forms in my stomach.
I step away from the door, guilty for eavesdropping, but I quickly decide whatever they’re talking about is my business, even if they’re not choosing to include me.
“…if Kozlov pushes faster than we expect,” Buck says, “we need a fallback that doesn’t depend on luck.”
My pulse starts to pound.
“If there’s any sign the school’s compromised again, Elena and T.J. go to the Sentinel compound and stay there,” Weston says.
“And if the compound gets hit?” That’s Calder.
Buck’s delayed response is hard and flat. “It won’t.”
“That’s not an answer,” Weston says.
“It’s the one you’re getting.”
The sound of something scuffing over rocks is followed by Weston’s clipped tone. “You asked for contingencies. So let’s talk contingencies.”
The knot in my stomach starts to burn as Calder exhales like he’s tired of the whole conversation. “Worst case, Elena takes the kid and disappears under federal protection until the network’s fully burned down.”
My fingers curl against the edge of the door.
“Then one of us goes with them,” Weston says.
“No,” Buck barks.
“He’s right,” Calder says. “She’d need someone.”
None of them speaks for a beat, then Buck says, “If it comes to that, she won’t be alone.”
I’m shaking with fury when I step out onto the deck in my bare feet. “Wow.”
All three of them immediately turn toward me.
“Please continue,” I say. “I’d love to hear the rest of the plans for my life.”