Chapter 9

I should have gone, but instead, I sat on the couch next to her and watched a completely unrealistic movie.

I should have gone, but instead, I stayed next to her as she dozed off, then tucked a blanket around her when she shivered in that peaceful sleep.

I should have gone, left her sleeping on her couch, warm in that blanket when the movie ended.

But as I stood up, intending to leave, my gaze was drawn back to her.

And I knew she would be uncomfortable in the morning, sleeping with her head propped up on one hand, her legs folded beneath her.

So...I did something incredibly stupid.

I scooped her up, carried her down the hall, and tucked her into bed.

And then I stood in the hall and I watched her settle back into sleep.

Watched as her body relaxed and her breathing steadied, lips parted, each exhale a soft puff.

Watched her as she dreamed and rolled to the side. Watched as?—

"Pascal."

—she said my name.

That's when I realize insanity has taken over and do one more sweep of the house, looking for any remaining bugs, finding two more during my meticulous look. Which means I'll still be sending that team later today when she and Matteo are at hockey.

And now, I'm trying to find the strength to keep walking by the open door of the bedroom.

To walk away instead of sliding into bed next to her, holding her close, and?—

The sun is coming up.

She's going to be awake soon.

And...I?—

Can't stay.

So, I do what I do best.

I slip into the shadows, remain unseen as I get into my car...

And I go back to my empty office at the security center.

The team doesn't find any other bugs or cameras or any further signs of Felix's interference.

But I'm not an idiot.

I make arrangements so he knows I'm serious, and turn the screws so that the walls close in on him enough that he understands to not fuck with me.

To not fuck with Lauren or Matteo.

To not fuck with the Gold.

And I keep their house under surveillance.

Okay, fine, I surveil their house.

I'm there every fucking night for the next week, making sure that they're safe.

And every fucking night for that week, I have to resist going up their front door, have to resist knocking and pushing my way inside, have to force myself back into the shadows and to my car unseen and...

Back to my fucking office.

But at least tonight, when I stretch out on my couch, I finally get a text from Felix.

Jesus fuck, Manot. I said that I get you. Call off your fucking dogs.

I exhale, type out a message.

New. Hampshire.

A long pause. Then,

Understood.

And for the first time in one week, I breathe easily.

For the first time in weeks—or maybe, a lifetime—I sleep easily.

And I do it dreaming of Lauren.

I'm clinging to the shadows.

But...he finds me anyway.

"Do you want to come to dinner?"

I look up from the tiny human in front of me, and glance to where his mom is standing, apparently deep in conversation with Sara, Brit, and Mandy. But, as though she senses my stare, she looks up the moment my gaze hits her face, our eyes connecting.

Her brows flick up in question.

Or maybe, in challenge.

"Do you?" Matteo asks. "Everyone's coming back to our house because my mom is making lasagna and garlic bread and"—his nose wrinkles—"and we'll have to have salad too, but that's not the worst because we get to put dressing on it."

"On the salad?" I ask inanely.

A reluctant nod. "Yeah."

"I like salad," I tell him, getting my shit together. "It's brain food. The darker the leaves, the better."

He stops, considers that. "My mom says it's good for me."

"Your mom is right."

"I guess." He heaves a sigh. "So, do you want to come? My mom said you probably wouldn't."

Right. So, that flick of brows had been a challenge.

"Do you want me to come?" I ask.

Matteo nods before he says something that punches me right in the gut. "You're family. You should come to family dinner."

My throat...fuck, why is it tight?

"So, will you?" Matteo presses—and fuck, there goes my heart.

And...I can't do anything except nod.

He whoops softly, bumps the fist I lift, and then runs off to join the other kids sprinting around the indoor playground.

A location that's secure because we've hosted events here before, and because Delaney is at the door, managing who's coming and going. It's a location that I don't need to be inside of.

Except that some part of me couldn't stay away.

And now...I'm going to a family dinner, apparently.

Something that has equal parts of fear and...something else flipping around my insides like goddamned monkeys playing on a high wire.

My gaze is drawn back to Lauren's, and I see her watching me. Our stares connect. Those brows lift again.

Challenge. Definitely challenge.

And...I bite back a curse.

Some part of me knows I'm not going to back down from it.

I start to knock then see the sign taped above the doorbell to Come on in.

It makes me want to turn around and run away.

But some force draws my hand to the knob and I turn it, push my way inside...

And find...chaos.

Kids are running around. Adults are laughing and drinking. The aforementioned lasagna smells fucking incredible. And I'm at a loss what to do.

Every light is on in the house, eliminating any shadows for me to hide in.

And as I move down the hall, my exit is quickly blocked by kids running through, and someone popping outside to grab a jacket, someone else taking the bag of trash to the can at the curb.

"You came!" Matteo says, skidding to a halt in front of me.

I nod.

He fist-pumps. "Awesome! Want to play soccer with us?" He hitches a thumb over his shoulder. "We're going out back."

"I should find your mom first," I say.

"Okay!"

And then he's off again, sprinting down the hall, and I hear the clang of the back door opening and slamming shut. I turn for the kitchen?—

"You came." A soft inquiry, but one that settles just as heavily on my heart.

"Yeah."

"Hmm." She folds her arms across her chest, leans back against the wall. "I was starting to think you were avoiding me."

I just look at her.

"Okay," she says after a moment. "I know you've been avoiding me." Her expression softens and she leans in, whispers, "I won't tell anyone about our conversation. I promise."

So fucking sweet that she thinks it's about me telling her something I shouldn't have.

So fucking sweet that she would keep my secrets.

So fucking sweet?—

It has the words bursting out of me.

"I was avoiding you."

She exhales, something gentling in her demeanor, before she leans even closer. "Why?"

I clench my jaw then force myself to release it. "Because I don't know how to do this."

Because I'm not sure I can do this.

She reaches forward, takes my hand, and squeezes lightly. "We do it together," she whispers. "And by taking just one step at a time."

My stomach revolts at the very thought.

But...my heart does something else.

It rolls over, exposes its vulnerable underbelly, pulsing with...hope.

"So, what's the first step?" I find myself asking.

"Soccer," she says, mouth twitching.