Chapter 9 #2
The silence stretched, comfortable now, warm. Tyrone reached for another cookie. This time he was the one to snap it in two and offer her half. “Even if he didn’t tell us about you and Kelsey, I have no doubt that he loved you both. That’s just the man he was.”
Glenna’s throat tightened. “Might have been easier if he had told you guys.” She gestured with her hand. “We wouldn’t be in this mess if he had, and Kelsey wouldn’t—” She couldn’t even bear to say the words.
Tyrone cleared his throat. “Yeah.”
The weight of Tyrone’s gaze settled on her, heavy with something unspoken. Glenna fiddled with the edge of the cookie, crumbs sticking to her fingers. The kitchen felt too quiet suddenly, the hum of the refrigerator the only sound between them.
She exhaled, sharp and frustrated. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Said what?”
“That it would’ve been easier if he’d told you.” She shook her head, staring into her coffee. “It’s not like he meant to leave us hanging. He just… didn’t think it through.”
Tyrone didn’t answer right away. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, the wood creaking under his weight.
“Dwight was a lot of things. Smart. Loyal. A pain in the ass when he wanted to be.” A ghost of a smile flickered across his face.
“But he wasn’t reckless. Not with things that mattered.
If he thought for one second there was a change on blow back on his family because of the jobs we were doing…
then I can understand why he’d hide you. ”
Glenna’s fingers tightened around her mug. “Would you have?”
“Now? No.” Tyrone’s jaw worked, like he was chewing over the answer. “But back then? Possibly. Have you considered that maybe he was scared?”
She scoffed. “Dwight? Scared? That man walked into gunfire like it was a Sunday stroll.”
“Not that kind of scared.” Tyrone’s voice dropped, rougher now. “The kind where you’ve got something so good, you’re terrified of losing it. The kind where you don’t tell your brothers because if you do, it becomes real. And if it’s real, it can be taken away.”
The words hit her like a punch to the gut. She knew that fear. Hadn’t she lived it every damn day since Kelsey was born? The way your heart clenched when you looked at them sleeping, the way your breath caught when they laughed—because what if it was the last time?
She swallowed hard. “He never talked about his work. Not really. Just… bits and pieces. Enough so I knew it was bad, but not enough to scare me more than I already was.”
Tyrone nodded, like he understood exactly what she meant. “That’s how we’re trained. We compartmentalize as much as possible and try not to let the bad shit bleed into the good.”
“But it does, doesn’t it?” She met his eyes, her voice steadier than she felt. “No matter how hard you try, it always bleeds through.”
Something flickered in his expression, recognition, maybe, or guilt. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “It does.”
A flicker of movement as a shadow slid passed the window caught Glenna’s eye. She leaned sideways, peering around Tyrone’s broad frame, but she couldn’t see anything.
Tyrone twisted in his chair, following her gaze. “Expecting someone?”
“No.” Glenna’s pulse kicked up, her fingers tightening around her mug. “I thought?—”
A sharp knock cut her off, and Tyrone was on his feet in an instant, his posture shifting from relaxed to alert. He moved to the door, his hand hovering near the small of his back.
Is he armed?
She hadn’t even thought about guns until now. She hadn’t considered that these men were still Operators who lived with that kind of readiness.
He glanced at her as if ensuring she wasn’t in the direct line of fire before he pulled the door open.
“Zorro?”
“Something wrong, boss?” Tyrone stepped aside, and Glenna could see Gunnar, his massive frame filling the doorway. Behind him, Jorja cradled Kelsey against her shoulder, the child’s small body trembling. Kelsey’s face was buried in Jorja’s neck, her sobs muffled but unmistakable.
Glenna’s chair scraped against the tile as she shot to her feet. “Kelsey?”
The second her daughter heard her voice, she twisted in Jorja’s arms, reaching out blindly. “Mommy!”
Glenna was there in two strides, her hands already outstretched. Jorja passed Kelsey into her arms without hesitation, the warm weight of her daughter collapsing against her chest. Kelsey’s fingers clenched into the fabric of her T-shirt, her breath hitching between sobs.
“Shhh, baby, I’ve got you.” Glenna pressed her lips to the top of Kelsey’s head, rocking her gently. “I’m right here.”
Kelsey’s voice was thick with tears. “I had a bad dream.”
“I know, sweetheart.” Glenna smoothed a hand over her hair, her throat tight. “But it’s just a dream. You’re safe now.”
Tyrone stepped back, giving them space. Gunnar’s gaze flicked between them, his expression unreadable in the dim light.
Jorja, though, offered a small, understanding smile before she said, “She woke up screaming, and wouldn’t settle until we promised to bring her to you.”
Glenna’s chest ached. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to?—”
“Don’t apologize.” Jorja’s voice was firm. “She’s your kid. You’re where she wants to be.”
Gunnar grunted in agreement, his arms crossed over his chest. “We just didn’t want her to be more upset than she had to be, especially not when you are a couple of doors away.”
“Thank you.”
Kelsey’s grip on Glenna’s shirt didn’t loosen. “Can I stay with you, Mommy? Please?”
Glenna didn’t hesitate. “Of course, baby.”
Tyrone moved to the counter, pouring another mug of coffee. “You good here, or you need anything?”
Gunnar shook his head. “We’re fine. We’re going to go back to bed.” He caught Jorja’s hand. We have an hour before the alarm starts screeching.”
Tyrone’s mouth quirked. “Fair.”
Jorja smiled at Glenna. “If she needs anything like extra blankets, a nightlight or stuff, just let me know. Gunnar can grab it.”
“I will, thank you.” Glenna nodded, her focus still on Kelsey. “And thank you for bringing her to me.”
Jorja’s hand squeezed her shoulder briefly. “That’s what family does.”
The word family hit her like a physical force. The only family she had was the daughter right here in her arms. But the way Jorja said it, as if it was a simple fact, made something in her chest ache.
Gunnar led his wife toward the door. “We’ll leave you to it.”
Tyrone stepped aside, letting them pass, but his gaze lingered on Glenna and Kelsey for a second longer. Then, with a quiet, “Night,” he followed Gunnar and Jorja out, pulling the door shut behind him.
The kitchen felt too big suddenly and the silence too loud. Kelsey’s breathing was still uneven, her small body tense. She cupped her daughter’s face, tilting it up so she could see her eyes.
“Hey. Look at me.”
Kelsey blinked, her lashes wet with tears. “I dreamed about the bad men.”
Glenna’s stomach twisted.
What kind of fucking bastards hurt babies?
Especially my baby.
She’d known Kelsey had been through something terrible. But hearing her say it made her want to scream at the unfairness and the injustice of it all.
“They’re not here, baby.” Her voice was steady despite the storm inside her. “They can’t hurt you anymore.”
Kelsey’s lower lip trembled. “But what if they come back?”