Page 37 of Redemption
Drawn. Tired. Yet still sharp and alert as ever. Because he never gets to let his guard down. We all need a vacation after the events of the past week. I don’t know how much more we can take. My nerves feel a hairbreadth away from being totally shot at the strain of it all. And yet we persevere, because that’s who we are.
It takes me a second to realize that Mount isn’t the one wearing the suit. He’s wearing a long-sleeved black shirt and black pants.
Having two of them is making this even crazier. My mind reels as I take them both in.
“Are you okay?” I walk toward my husband as he opens his arms to me.
Only once they’re wrapped around me, squeezing me hard, do I feel like my world is something I recognize once more.
“I’m fine. We’re all fine. That’s what matters most.”
I know there are a million things he’s not telling me, and that’s par for the course with Mount. Because he was Mount today, not Lachlan.
“What happened at the funeral?”
“It was interrupted, thankfully,” he says against my hair.
I jerk back to meet his gaze. “Thankfully?”
Lachlan’s expression is grave as he nods. Instinctively, I swallow the lump that swells in my throat.
“How bad is it?”
“I’ll tell you everything after we eat something. We’re starving. Where is Rory?”
I point to the closed door. “Sleeping, but that doesn’t matter. Go see her. She needs her daddy.”
Lachlan presses a kiss to my lips. “I love you more than life itself,” he whispers as his forehead rests against mine. “Thank you for being so strong. I swear that I will spend the rest of my life making this up to you.”
I bury my fingers in his silver-threaded black hair. “Whatever it is, we’ll handle it. That’s what we do.”
As he pulls away, he presses a kiss to my forehead. “I don’t deserve you, but you’re mine forever, Hellion.” His words are barely above a whisper.
“Always. No matter what,” I say, concern rising as I take in the serious set of his features.
Something happened. Something bad.
I don’t know how I know, but I know. That can wait until they’re not starving though.
“Go see Rory. I’ll heat up what I thawed from the freezer earlier. It’s not haute cuisine,” I say, glancing at Marco, “but you won’t be starving anymore.”
“Anything is perfect,” Marco replies. “I could eat a hoof at this point.”
I smile at him, still in borderline shock from just staring at him. They look nearly identical. Down to the silver at the temples. It’s just … uncanny.
That’s when I recognize one key difference—Marco’s face has different creases. Like he’s spent much more of his life smiling than Lachlan, whose creases tell of a life spent deep in thought, which is exactly what it has taken to keep him alive and out of prison.
I want Lachlan to spend the rest of his life smiling. My heart grows wings at the fanciful thought. Right now, he can’t even tell me what happened today because it undoubtedly included bullets and blood. A constant in our life. Even if I don’t see it directly, I’m well aware of who my husband is and what his business entails.
I push all of that out of my mind and busy myself with reheating the pot of jambalaya on the stove for them both. Thank goodness it smells amazing.
Come what may, at least I can feed hungry men.
I have my husband, his brother, and my daughter with me under the same roof, I remind myself, focusing on what’s right in front of me. And that’s something to be very grateful for.
With Marco in the restroom, freshening up before dinner, Lachlan finds me in the kitchen, and we finally have a moment of privacy.
He leans against the counter, watching me stir the pot on the stove. I try to keep the words back, but I can’t do it any longer.
