No Quick Fix (Torus Intercession 1)

“Compared to some places I’ve slept, this would be heaven,” I told him.

“Oh, I’m certain of that,” he said with a sigh, coming around the couch to sit down on the coffee table in front of me. “But you’re not in combat anymore, so you should treat yourself a bit better, don’t you think?”

I grunted, and his smile was my reward, big and bright, all that warmth focused on me. There was so much genuine fondness, and it was a revelation because no one I’d ever met in my life showed their emotions so easily. He hid nothing, and it was refreshing, as I’d lived most of my adult life around people who either chose to or had to.

“Let me get up,” I said, my voice gravelly because I was only half-awake. “I didn’t mean to fall—”

“You’re fine,” he assured me, hand on my knee for a moment to keep me still.

It was amazing that he could simply sit there and be close to me and not feel awkward about being in my space. Like it was natural and comfortable and not giving him the heart palpitations that it was giving me.

Fuck my life. Being attracted to a straight man who was also a father was a recipe for heartache that I didn’t need in the least.

“You all passed out,” Emery said softly, lifting his hand from my knee, and returning it to his side. “Did you take them to eat?”

I cleared my throat so it would work. “I did, and holy crap can April eat.”

He chuckled and nodded. “Oh, I know. Her mother and I used to wonder where she put it because she looks like a bird.”

We were quiet then, the mirth dying slowly, awkwardly, as he stared at me and I stared back at him, both of us, I was certain, figuring out what to do.

“People asked me about you after you left,” he said gruffly, taking a breath. “They didn’t understand how I could simply allow my girls to leave with a man I just met today.”

I felt myself glower. “I hope you told them to go to hell. I have been scrupulously vetted by Jared Colter and more importantly by the US Navy. I mean really, who could keep your kids safer than me?”

“I think they meant how could I let them be with you. Alone.”

And I heard what he was suggesting that time. “Oh, that’s disgusting,” I barked at him, and both girls twitched and moved restlessly.

“I know, I know,” he soothed me, hand back on my knee. “I read your file when Grant, Mr. Cahill, first suggested this to me, and then today, seeing you with both of them, how fast they warmed up, how much they missed having a moth—having a person in the house with us— that was really touching to see.”

“I’m sure it gives you an idea how Lydia will be once she moves in here.”

He scoffed. “You mean us, there.”

“What?” He lost me. “You where?”

“We’re moving up to that mansion once we get married. The girls, the dog, and me, we’re all going to live where we were tonight.”

I glanced quickly around the room. “You’re leaving your home?”

He grimaced. “There are some bad memories here.”

“Yeah, but,” I began hesitantly, “there are some good ones too.” He was the one who’d told me about April looking at the chandelier when she was a baby. “I’m betting the good times outweigh the bad like three to one.”

“It’s not that simple.”

I shrugged. “I think it is.”

“She died here, Brann,” he whispered.

“No, I know,” I acknowledged, treading carefully. “But don’t you think it would be better to focus on all the days she lived here instead?”

He nodded. “I do, but Lydia doesn’t want to be here. It’s too small, for one, and she doesn’t want to try and mother my girls in Andrea’s house.”

“It can be her house too. I can’t see your wife, here with all the things you guys loved so much, not wanting you to find that again—you and the girls.”

His sigh was long, troubled, as he straightened and braced his arms at his sides, gripping the side of the table. “I wish you had been around to talk to Lydia before she made her decision. With all the interest she had in you this evening, you might have been able to get her to change her mind.”

“Interest in me?” I asked as he stood and bent to pick up Olivia.

“Her and her maid of honor as well as Tricia, her other friend, another bridesmaid,” he informed me, chuckling. “You should have heard them; it was like the sixth grade all over again,” he mused, studying me.

“What?” He wasn’t being clear, and as I stood up with April in my arms, I heard his breath catch. “I think I missed something.”