Defender (Seattle Sharks 9)

“I’d never ask you to.”

“I know.”

“I’ll be ready,” I said, nodding more to myself than to him. “I’m so close.” I glanced over my shoulder where I’d sat my duffle. “Here, let me show you what I brought.”

An hour later, my brother had shed his suit jacket over another stool, his white button-down sleeves rolled up to the elbows. I’d showed him all of my research. All of my formulas. And a sample of the safety foam itself. We’d run it through some basic trials, just enough for him to see how the coloration worked.

“You’re a genius,” he said, grinning at me as he studied the foam in his hands.

“I’m determined.”

“That you are,” he said, glancing from me to the foam and back again. “This is further along than we’d even discussed a year ago.”

“Ally.”

“Ally,” he said, setting the foam down.

“And…well, Nathan lost his brother because of something similar..”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

I swallowed hard. “It was years ago, but it still is a wound. One I’m not sure will ever be fully healed.”

“That’s why he agreed to help you.”

“And why he’s risking everything wearing those sensors.”

“That is a major risk. He could lose his contract, though. With his history, I can see why he finds it worth it.” He tapped the table. “And it is worth it, Harper. You’ve mastered something here. Something that will save lives. Revolutionize safety standards. This will go beyond just the Reapers. You realize that, don’t you?”

I chewed on my lip. “I’ll need your help,” I said. “With regulations and expansion. Whenever that time comes. Will you?”

“Always,” he said, and retook his seat on the stool. “Now, can you tell me what is going on up there?” He pointed to my head, and I rolled my eyes. My brother had this way of reading me that even my sister couldn’t do. Or mom or dad. Maybe it was because we were closer in age. Or because we’d spent the most time in the middle of friendly competition that he knew how to assess his opponent too well.

I sank onto another stool across from him.

“Is it the deadline?” she asked when I hadn’t spoken. “Because I understand, but you’re already so close—”

“That’s not the part of the deadline that’s worrying me,” I cut him off. A wide, deep pit opened in my stomach, the plummet one I wasn’t sure I’d come back from.

“Then what part is it?” Asher looked utterly lost, something he absolutely hated.

“Nathan.” His name on my lips was like chucking a piece of myself down that pit.

Asher tilted his head. “Nathan Noble.”

I nodded.

Asher’s eyes were utterly clueless.

“For a tech-billionaire-genius you can be pretty slow on the uptake sometimes.”

He scoffed. “I most certainly am not—”

“I’m worried about the deadline because of how hard it will be to leave.”

One blink, then two. Finally, it clicked in my brother’s eyes.

“Oh,” he said, shifting on his stool. “That is…unfortunate.”

I snorted at his description of the situation.

“Well, I only meant,” he hurried to add, “that you’ve wanted this your whole life.” He motioned to the sparkling lab around him.

“I have.”

“And it must be hard to have something pulling you in another direction. Or someone,” he said.

“It truly is.” I wrung my hands again, collecting my thoughts for once before blurting them out. “We’re close, Asher.” I shrugged. “I’ve never been this close to a man before.” I wouldn’t say the L-word. I couldn’t. Wouldn’t shred my heart like that.

“And he’s a Seattle Shark,” Asher said, not a question but a declaration.

“Yes.”

“Does he know that you’ll be running a Silas lab? Or how closely you’ll be working with the Reapers?”

“No,” I admitted. “He loves Seattle so much. He won’t leave. I can’t stay. And besides, I’ve never been one to throw around your name.”

“I’m sorry, Harper.” He reached over and patted my shoulder before leaning back. “But the work you’ll do here? The development? It will change the world. That is worth more than any relationship, right?”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, hating that my answer wasn’t as clear as it always had been in the past. Our family had been raised that way—duty above love. The responsibility to use the talents we were born with, the extreme intellectual gifts given to us, to better or change the world. Or at least small sections of it.

“Right?” Asher asked again, studying me a bit harder, his eyes contemplative, curious. Of course, he’d never had a serious relationship with anyone other than his work—like me. But now I knew it didn’t matter how much we prided ourselves on our work, our ability to separate sex from love, the ability to not need a relationship because when the right person came along...you were powerless to stop it.

I hadn’t been able to stop or sever the connection that buzzed white-hot between Nathan and myself, and despite knowing I should, I wasn’t sure I even wanted to sever it anymore.