Tied Up in Knots (Marshals 3)

“Miro, honey, is the heater on in the truck?”

Ian calling me honey made me sigh like an ingenue in a really bad movie on the Lifetime channel. “What?”

“The truck. Is the heater on in the truck?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Could you turn it on for me?”

“But the truck’s not on.”

“Miro—”

“I’m so sorry, Ian.” I gulped down a sob. “You deserve someone who—”

“Shut up!” he yelled. “You’re the one who deserves fuckin’ better, but fuck you, M, that ain’t gonna happen! You’re stuck with me, and that’s it, that’s the end of it, do you understand? Do you get it? You don’t get to make a decision alone. Neither do I. We’re in this together, and we’re staying together. Period.”

“I can’t,” I said hoarsely. “I break when you go.”

“So do I, you stupid shit!”

He did? “You do?”

“Fuck, Miro, yes.”

“Then why do you go?” I asked, trying not to sound as forlorn as I felt.

“Because I think I had an idea in my head about being a man and what a man does and how a man is, and because I’m with you, I felt like I had to do even more, be even more.”

“You didn’t want anyone to think that being with me made you soft.”

“Yes,” he rasped.

“But that’s really stupid. Being gay, or bi, or whatever doesn’t make you weak.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Then?”

“It’s one thing to know it and one thing to think it about yourself sometimes.”

“Yeah, I get that.” I did. Logically you knew things but it didn’t always help, and it didn’t always translate to the real world.

“Not only do I leave the man I love when I go, but I leave my work partner, too, and you get hurt when I go because there’s no one here to watch your back.”

“That’s not true,” I said in deference to my friends. “The guys watch out for me just like they would for you.”

“But you’re not a priority for anyone but me.”

“’Cause you love me,” I whispered, wanting him so bad that my skin ached with the need. “Right? Ian? You love me?”

“I’ve never loved anyone more. Ever.”

My breath hitched. “I’m sorry I kissed Hartley.”

“I forgive you since he had a gun.”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t just the threat of death.”

“No, it could be the loneliness and gratitude, and probably a healthy dose of shock.”

“Shock?”

“Barrett shot Chickie. He told you he was going to kill you, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Didn’t expect that, didja?”

“No,” I said, my teeth chattering.

“Oh God, love, please turn on the truck and get the heater going.”

“I will.”

“Never mind, I’ll do it. I see you.”

“What?” But I understood when there was pounding on the window and I checked and found Ian standing in the pouring rain.

“Open the door!” he yelled, but it was muffled through glass and sheets of water.

Sitting up, I unlocked and shoved over quickly so he didn’t drown.

He immediately snatched the keys from me and started the truck. Once hot air was blowing through the cab, he turned to me. “So even though the timing is shitty because you’re completely out of it right now, I’m still going to tell you that I made the decision to go ahead and leave the military.”

I was hallucinating.

“Miro?”

“I think I might be in a coma or something.”

“I assure you you’re not.”

“I’m in shock.”

“That I will agree with.”

“You’re really quitting?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because it doesn’t make sense anymore,” he said flatly.

“What do you mean?”

“It used to be right for me—it’s who I was—but now I’m more invested here, at home, with you.”

I was afraid to let his words sink into me because they were exactly what I’d been hoping for and really, seemed too good to be true.

“I think if I wasn’t a marshal that I’d have trouble walking away from the military because the service—military or law enforcement—defines me.”

It did, I would agree. Ian was the guy who volunteered to put his life second to someone else, for someone else, because it was how he was made, how his heart was made. “It’s because you’re a good man, Ian Doyle.”

He shook his head. I knew there were things he’d done in his life that he knew were the opposite of good, and those haunted him. “I’m not leaving the military because I think I can’t be an asset to them anymore, I’m leaving because I think I can do better things here with you, at home, being a marshal, and being your partner both at work and at home.”

I shivered because his words were exciting and scary at the same time.

“You’re a big part of the reason that I’m going to retire, but you’re not all of it, and I’d think that would be comforting in a way.”

It was. The decision wasn’t all on me, then. It wasn’t just because of me. His own thinking had changed as well, and I couldn’t ask for better.

“I truly believe that I can do more good here instead of halfway around the world.”