Chapter 18 #2
You’re a fighter, huh, dude?
Or did you get beaten up by the girls?
His lionesses ignored him, tails twitching as they watched the gawking humans with regal indifference.
Kelsey bounced on her toes. “They’re like Bandit—all lazy.”
Tyrone snorted, because, not even close. That lion could gut a man in three seconds flat. But he didn’t say it aloud, letting Kelsey keep her innocent comparison.
Glenna checked her phone, “Lunch soon?”
Kelsey’s nose wrinkled. “One more thing?” She pointed ahead to the looming entrance of the reptile house, its shadowed doorway exhaling a humid breath of damp earth and musk.
Tyrone stiffened; there would be very few sightlines, and way too many blind corners in there.
His fingers tapped against his thigh as he made a valid attempt at pushing the paranoia years of warfare had given him down to a level where he wouldn’t have to disappoint the six-year-old who had snuck in under his defenses and made herself right at home in his heart.
Glenna studied him, then bent to Kelsey with a conspiratorial whisper. “Let’s picnic by the flamingos instead. I think Zorro might be afraid of snakes.”
He scowled. “I’m not?—”
Kelsey gasped, her eyes widening. “You’re scared?”
“No. No, I’m just not the biggest fan of anything that can crawl into my bed at night when I’m sleeping and bite me.”
Glenna smirked, leaned in close, and asked, “Does that include me?” She steered them toward a sunlit courtyard where pink flamingos stood on one leg, utterly unbothered by the world around them.
She spread their blanket under the dappled shade of a cypress tree, smoothing the fabric with practiced hands.
“Better?” she asked, arching a brow at Tyrone.
He crouched, automatically scanning the area, then sat with the two he was rapidly coming to consider his girls. “Oh yeah.” His stomach growled.
Glenna tossed him an apple, the fruit arcing through the air with perfect precision. “Eat. Before you scare the flamingos.”
He caught it. His teeth sank into the crisp flesh with a satisfying crunch.
For the first time all day, the tension bled from his shoulders.
The flamingos squawked, oblivious to his presence, their long legs wading through the shallow water.
Kelsey chattered between bites, her words tumbling out in an excited stream—something about elephant toenails and how they were like giant toenail pancakes.
Glenna’s knee brushed his as she leaned forward to wipe barbecue sauce off Kelsey’s chin, her touch lingering just a second longer than necessary.
And Tyrone realized, with a quiet shock that settled deep in his chest, that he wasn’t just standing guard. He was here with his girls and he was fucking loving it.
The petting area sprawled along the outskirts of the zoo, a fenced-off square of packed dirt where Shetland ponies stood tethered to a carousel pole, their shaggy coats dull with dust. Tyrone clocked the setup in seconds: one handler per pony, lead ropes double-fastened, exit routes clearly marked.
Looks safe enough.
Maybe I’ll lead the pony though.
Kelsey was already sprinting ahead, her sneakers kicking up puffs of dirt. “Can I ride the black one?”
The little shaggy black pony with a crooked blaze lifted its head at the sound of her voice, ears pricking forward. The handler, a teenage girl with sunburned shoulders, smiled and adjusted the miniature saddle. She said in heavily accented English, “His name’s Coal. Wanna meet him first?”
Glenna caught Kelsey’s sleeve before she could barrel into the pen. “Careful, Kels, he’s not Zombie or Chaos. Give him a second to see you first.”
Kelsey huffed but obeyed, creeping up with her palm flat like Tyrone had taught her with the Malinois. The pony sniffed her fingers, then lipped at her sleeve as if he were searching for treats.
“Told you,” the handler said, holding out a sugar cube. “Put this on your hand like this?—”
Kelsey's nose wrinkled. “He’s slobbery.”
Tyrone crouched beside her. “He’s like a big woofer.”
She shot him a scandalized look, but when he lifted her up, she clambered onto the pony with all the grace of a newborn giraffe. The handler clicked her tongue, leading Coal in slow circles while Kelsey clutched the saddle horn, her grin so wide it threatened to split her face.
Glenna leaned against the fence beside Tyrone, her shoulder warm against his bicep. “She’s going to beg for riding lessons now.”
He grunted, tracking Kelsey’s grip on the reins—too loose. “Maybe she’ll let Uncle Zorro get them for her, if you allow it.”
A breeze kicked up, carrying the scent of hay and the distant growl of the big cats. Glenna’s hair brushed his arm, loose strands escaping her braid. His hand moved to tuck them back, but he caught himself and ran it over his own head instead.
After three laps, Kelsey’s posture sagged, her earlier energy waning. She slumped over Coal’s neck, blinking hard. “Zorro. My legs feel weird.”
Woah, adrenaline crash.
“You ready to come down, Kells-bells?”
“Yeah.”
He hooked an arm around her waist, lifting her clear of the saddle, and she went boneless against his chest, her cheek smushing into his collarbone. “Carry me?” Her voice was a sleep-thick mumble.
“Yep.”
Glenna gathered their picnic blanket from the fencepost, her lips quirking. “I see how it is.
Kelsey’s limbs dangled like overcooked noodles as Tyrone adjusted his grip, her weight settling against him with an ease that should’ve been unsettling. Instead, it just felt right.
“You're hot,” she complained, swatting weakly at his chest.
“And yet you keep gluin’ yourself to me.” He palmed the back of her head as they passed through the turnstile, shielding her eyes from the late-afternoon glare.
The Hilux’s AC blasted icy air as they pulled out of the lot. Kelsey was already snoring in the backseat, her face smushed against the window.
Glenna turned around to look at her, her eyes soft. “She’s out hard.”
He gave her a grin, but didn’t voice the thought lodged inside him—that this was what peace felt like. That it terrified him more than any firefight ever had.
He gripped the wheel, hit the gas, and the Hilux’s engine gave a low growl beneath them. Glenna’s fingers tapped an idle rhythm on the center console. Kelsey’s soft snores filled the silence from the backseat. When he shifted gears, his knuckles brushed Glenna’s knee. She didn’t pull away.
The road stretched ahead, sun-dappled and uncertain. He could navigate any terrain—but this, them, was uncharted.
Glenna’s breath hitched when his fingers grazed hers. No words. Just the road, the hum of tires, and the weight of something new.