Bonus Scene
WYATT
LONDON, ENGLAND
When the doors open, every instinct has me wanting to assess the room. Entrances. Exits. Sight lines. Elevated positions. I catalog it all in under two seconds before my brain catches up to the reality of where I am.
There are no threats. No danger. Just rows of people rising to their feet, petals scattered along a narrow white aisle inside the chapel, sunlight pouring in through tall windows and turning the air gold.
“It’s okay, Dad, I’ve got you,” Gwen whispers near my ear.
Her arm is threaded through mine. I glance down and see her fingers tighten slightly at my sleeve. Not weak or uncertain. There to ground me.
Here we go.
One foot in front of the other.
The years collapse in on themselves as we walk. All the times I missed and had to piece together through photos and grainy videos. All the ones I was there for after fate finally put her in my life.
And now, at the end of the aisle, stands the man waiting for her. Shoulders squared, dark eyes locked on Gwen like nothing else in the world exists.
Good. Exactly how it should be.
Her arm presses closer to mine, and something deep in my chest shifts. A sharp, undeniable awareness that my daughter is about to become a wife.
She won’t need me at her side to face the world—probably never did. But now I know that when I’m long gone, she won’t be alone.
I can do this without crying.
Bloody hell.
No I can’t.
At the front, Easton stands steady, unflinching. A tear breaks free, and he swipes it away before his brother-in-law nudges him, letting him know he’s doing good. Holding it together.
Carter and a few of the guys are up there with him. I’d be there, too, if I weren’t the bride’s father.
Halfway down the aisle, a tremor runs through Gwen. I tilt my head toward her. “Too late to run.”
She huffs out a quiet laugh, tension cracking just enough. “You and all of Falcon would tackle me before I made it three steps.”
“Correct.”
When we reach the front, I release her arm and turn to face her. Up close, she looks both impossibly young and incredibly strong at the same time.
I lift the veil, then take her hands and kiss her cheek. A tear slips free as we pull apart, and I place her hand in Easton’s.
I don’t say more than an I love you—maybe to them both—then I step back and entrust her to the only man I think I ever could.
After that . . . the rest blurs. The vows. The applause. The rings catching sunlight through stained glass. The first kiss as husband and wife.
My daughter chose a man who will run toward danger with her, not from it. Of course she did. And somewhere in all this, I gained a son.
When the chapel doors open, we watch as Easton helps Gwen into a horse-drawn carriage waiting outside to take them to the reception.
Each second that passes carves itself into my memory—moments I’ll replay later when it doesn’t feel like my chest is being pried open with a crowbar.
When it’s time for the father-daughter dance, Gwen chooses a song that’s designed specifically to finish me off—“My Wish” by Rascal Flatts.
I try to hide my tears the best I can as we dance, but I’m failing miserably.
As the song closes out, she whispers into my shoulder, “Thank you, Daddy.”
“For what?” I ask, pulling back.
“For giving me away. For trusting Easton to take care of me.”
“Yeah, well . . . I know where he lives.” I wink and press a quick kiss to her temple as the music changes, the new notes mingling with applause from our friends and family.
Easton steps forward to reclaim his wife, and I retreat to the bar in desperate need of something strong before I full-on sob in a room full of operators. They’d never let me hear the end of it.
I brace my hands on the counter. “Double.”
“Of what?” the bartender asks.
“Father-of-the-bride strong enough,” I grunt, rolling my neck.
“You look like you’re planning an extraction, not attending a wedding.” Not a voice I wanted to hear tonight.
“Old habits.” I take the glass and turn to face Gwen’s mother.
“Dance with me?”
I snort. “Not on your life. Ask one of your sons.”
She smiles like she expected that. “Relax. I’m not proposing.”
I lift my ring finger, reminding her I’m more than taken.
Charlotte has the audacity to hook her fingers into my sleeve. “Your father-in-law may become president if he wins the nomination. You might want to avoid causing a diplomatic incident over refusing a dance.”
I glance across the dance floor. My father-in-law is currently dancing with my wife, who catches my silent distress signal and immediately leaves him to come for us.
“If he can make it to the Oval Office, it won’t be because I can waltz,” I mutter, pulling free.
“Charlotte,” Natasha greets in a tight voice. She links her arm through mine and looks me in the eye. “You okay?”
“I’ve survived worse,” I say, lifting my glass in a silent request for Charlotte to find someone else to torment. She takes the hint and leaves, nose in the air.
Natasha steals my drink, takes a sip, then sets it aside. “Dance with me?”
“To this song?” I press a hand to my chest, listening to the lyrics of “Giving Her Away” by Luke Combs.
“Easton picked it.”
“Trying to kill me, apparently.” I find the newlyweds on the dance floor, and Gwen’s laughing as he spins her.
My gaze drifts around to survey everyone else there.
From Hollis dancing with her husband—and word is they’re now pregnant—on over to her brother spinning Camila alongside them.
There’s nothing romantic in the way Julian and Camila are moving, but I spot Carter quietly observing them with a look that promises violence.
“I’ll dance to the next song,” I finally say. “I can’t be out there crying to this one.”
Natasha lifts her chin, eyes pointed toward the dance floor. “I’m shocked A.J.’s not stealing the mic from the D.J. and serenading the newlyweds.”
I follow her gaze to Echo Two, one of my best friends. “Give him time, he will.”
Natasha chuckles before changing subjects. “You realize you have one more wedding in your future. You’ll need to walk Emory down the aisle one day.”
I twist around, snatch my tumbler, and toss back the rest of the bourbon.
“Ohhh, look at that. Camila’s being stolen by Tessa’s cousin.”
I abandon my drink and face the dance floor. Trevor’s a SEAL I once tried to recruit to lead Charlie Team, but he declined. He’s single with a son, and we would all like to see him happily married again one day.
I check Carter’s reaction, curious what he thinks of this new pairing. Same murderous energy. Diana drags him to the dance floor before he can do something regrettable. She’s about the only one who can distract that man.
My attention returns to Gwen and Easton, and I’m saved from getting watery-eyed when I overhear my teammates bantering behind us. Something about polar bears—a team joke that never seems to die.
“Can’t take them anywhere, I swear,” I say, hauling my wife around and into my arms for that dance she wants.
She slips her arms over my shoulders and smiles. “You did good with her.”
I scoff. “Pretty sure I had nothing to do with that.”
“You were there when she needed you,” she begins, her voice soft, “and you intimidated all the wrong men away.”
I tip my chin toward Easton. “Except him.”
“Exactly, because he’s the right one.” Her gorgeous green eyes lock with mine. “She chose someone who wouldn’t back down. Someone who isn’t afraid of you.”
I dip down and kiss her, then teasingly rasp, “Maybe a little afraid of me.”