Page 25 of The Hitman’s Final Job

I watch him prepare a feast of sandwiches, cake, and apple slices before we take it to the living room and sit on the couch.

The setting sun casts a warm light into the room. He has an electric fire, which is the opposite of what I’d expect from him, but I can understand that after a long day at work he probably doesn’t want to tend to a fire but still enjoys the light and warmth.

“Does Rowan know you’re here?” Vaughn asks.

“He does,” I say. “That’s how I got the address.”

Vaughn nods, like this confirms something. “He didn’t mention it to me.”

“I asked him not to. I wanted it to be a surprise.”

Vaughn picks up his sandwich. “Why haven’t you visited before?”

There it is.

“Work,” I say. “It’s been busy. The travel schedule is⁠—”

“Silas.”

The way he says my name is not unkind. It’s the tone of someone who is not going to pretend the answer they received was adequate.

“It’s been a busy few years,” I say.

“You’ve been to Denver,” Vaughn says. “Rowan mentioned it. More than once.”

“That’s different.”

“Is it?”

Vaughn watches me eat my sandwich and then the cake with patience.

I don’t fill the silence, and he doesn’t push.

We eat until the only thing on our plates is crumbs. Vaughn leans back against the couch cushions and examines his hands for a moment. Then he looks at me.

“We need to talk about Warsaw,” he says.

“Okay.”

“I want to make something clear,” he says. “I haven’t said it before because I didn’t think it was necessary. After Warsaw”—he pauses, like he’s choosing his words—“it’s not just necessary. It’s vital.”

I wait.

“I’m not going to pretend I’m not attracted to you, Silas,” he says. “I’m not going to insult either of us by doing that.”

My heart beats so fast I might need to see a doctor.

“I know there’s a thirteen-year age gap,” he continues. “I’m aware of how that looks. But I met you when you were a grown adult, and I can’t … I can’t help what I feel.” He makes eye contact with me when he says it, which is the most Vaughn thing he could possibly do. No deflection. No softening. Just the truth.

He holds my gaze.

“But nothing can happen,” he says. “Between us. Because of Rowan.”

The words are quiet and final.

“I know,” I say.

“Silas—”