Joint Forces (Wingmen Warriors 7)

Had he done the same? "You don't have to go to school today."

"Yeah, I think I do have to go."

His son was becoming a man. "Okay, then." The kid was probably safer there than at home, anyway. "But remember, you can call me if you have any problems. I'll be there in minutes."

"Thanks, but I'm okay." He pushed away from the counter and started toward the door.

Make the words count. "Son?"

Chris turned. "Yeah?"

"Love ya." J.T. hooked his arm around Chris's neck and pulled him in for a hug.

His son hugged back. Thumping. Rena would have laughed over the fact that men had to hit while they were hugging, but hey, guys understood the lingo.

Thunking his son once more on the back, J.T. pulled away. "And you're still grounded 'til the end of time."

Grinning, Chris shrugged, baggy clothes rippling. "I figured as much."

"Go grab your backpack and I'll see what's keeping your mother."

Scooping a muffin off the counter for his wife, J.T. hoped the upcoming talk with Rena could go even half as well as the one with his son, simple, low-key. Otherwise, they were all screwed.

She was so screwed.

Inching back from the kitchen door, Rena steadied her steps if not her pulse. The image of father and son, standing together, white athletic socks on crossed feet side by side, squeezed all those pregnancy emotions until she could barely breathe. Watching J.T. and Chris in sync like that was … perfect, the family she'd always wanted.

Well, without bricks flying through her window.

The fear from the night before quivered through her again. Followed by the oh so vividly red memories of how she'd escaped that fear.

Slumping against the wall by a wrought-iron plant stand, she let herself enjoy looking at J.T. Waking up alone had been disappointing. But then she'd realized J.T. probably couldn't have woken her anyway, as deeply as she slept. She'd squelched down hurt, forced herself to think clearly. He was being considerate by letting her sleep.

Quit thinking with her hormones and start using her brain or she'd never get through this with her heart intact. But oh, as she stared at J.T., freshly showered and shaved in his flight suit, strong jaw and handsome face that only grew more appealing with age, her emotions did so want control over her.

She'd always enjoyed J.T.'s body; however that body became all the more tempting when the man inside was being so incredible. Of course, he'd always loved his children, been active in their care, took his turn walking the floor. But the talking? He'd left that up to her.

Until now.

Seeing him become the father she'd always known he could be made her wonder what their lives would have been like had he shared some of that openness with her over the years. She'd lost count of all the arguments and reconciliation talks—actually mostly her talking. And even if he was talking now, too, was it realistic to expect they could patch this up themselves?

This possibility of reconciliation screamed, "last chance." Which meant going for broke on the fix with the one thing they'd never tried.

Marital counseling.

How strange that she of all people should be scared of the prospect. Scared of what she would hear. Could that he why she'd avoided it?

God knows, J.T. wouldn't want to go. Even laid-back Bo dragged his boots at the prospect of spilling his guts and having his brain picked. Hell, she was frightened to her roots just thinking about it, too. But the more she considered the idea, the more certain she became that this offered their only hope.

Of course, that meant delaying any talk for a while longer, waiting for the perfect time rather than some car discussion to and from work. Logical, right?

Not a scared-as-hell stall tactic.

She entered the kitchen before they could come out into the hall and realize she'd been watching them. "Hey, guys. I'm ready anytime."

Chris's gaze ping-ponged from one parent to the other. "Uh, I gotta get something from upstairs."

He angled past and out before she could even hug him.