Unshackled

He shook his head at me. “Have I ever told you you’re completely inappropriate?”

“Many times.” I scratched my nose. “I appreciate every compliment you give me.”

He coughed around a laugh, and it was a real fucking laugh that filled me with surprise and a rush of other shit—love, longing, a big fuck yeah, because I’d missed his laugh. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d heard it, and now it was something I’d said that’d brought it back. I hoped it was okay to be proud.

“You’re laughing.” I smiled widely.

“God.” He chuckled and wiped his eyes, and he felt the need to shake his head at me again. To be fair, I earned it most of the time. “Only you, Kellan. Only you. Christ.” He cleared his throat around another chuckle and smoothed down his suit. “I remember one time—I don’t recall what it was about, but you spoke in metaphors. Something about sending a warning or just giving a heads-up that we knew what someone was up to. You said, ‘It’s not like we’re gonna rape his ass or nothing, we’re just gonna finger him a bit.’”

What? It’d been a stellar metaphor.

“I remember.” I smirked and adjusted myself.

Shan averted his gaze out the window, and the amusement lingered in his eyes. It felt good to see. “As soon as you open your mouth, trouble comes out.”

I might be pushing it if I cracked a joke about swallowing now.

He sighed contentedly and watched the estates and trees whoosh by. “It’s been a good couple of days.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” I reached over to the side and popped open the minibar. This wasn’t one of those huge limos where we were ten feet apart; distance was the last thing I wanted with this man, but a bar was a must. “Can I interest you in a Manhattan? A little bird named Viv said it was a thing of yours. Classical music and a Manhattan.”

Shan looked impressed. “I definitely won’t say no to that. That’s the perfect rye for it too.”

“All alcohol I choose is perfect, Daddy.”

He hummed. “You keep calling me that.”

“Because you’re Grade A Daddy material.” I sucked some vermouth off the edge of my thumb and stirred in the bitters. “You can’t be unfamiliar with the term.”

“No, contrary to popular belief, I haven’t lived under a rock, but I don’t see how I fit the bill.”

He was blind as a bat.

“Let’s see… You’re caring as fuck and constantly wanna be there for those you love. You’re strict and structured, a solid support, an unwavering rock—”

“Jesus,” he muttered and looked away. I furrowed my brow in confusion. I’d thought he’d smirk at the tongue-in-cheek truths. “I haven’t felt anything remotely close to structured and unwavering in a long time.” Instead, his mood tanked. Fuck, fuck, fuck. “Quite the opposite.”

“Then you’re wrong.” I tried to keep my tone light, but I wasn’t sure it worked. After dropping an orange twist into his glass, I extended it across the floor, and he accepted it. “You’ve been there for me in a way no one ever has, especially this past year.”

He stared down into his drink, swirling the liquid, before taking a generous sip.

The tiny lights along the sides of the ceiling didn’t reveal enough of his expression, and I needed to be able to read him clearly to know how much I could say.

Screw it, it was time to get serious. “Shannon, you’re not supposed to be unwavering twenty-four seven. I’m just saying it’s who you are. You’re loyal to a fault, the love you have for your kids is unconditional and sacred, and…” I mean, I could go on for hours. Problem was, he wasn’t listening. “You got knocked down, sir. It happens. And you have to let it take time before you start building up your life again. But I still see you—all of you. I see the progress and the setbacks, and I see how you haven’t let grief bury you. You’ll never fight a more challenging war than that.”

He nodded slowly.

“You don’t have to fight this war alone, though,” I went on quietly. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m here for the darkest hours too.”

My phone vibrated in my inner pocket, and I was afraid I’d already said too much, so I gave him a breather and checked my phone. After all, I knew that when he felt really low, talking just went in one ear and out the other.

Aw, shit. Emilia had texted.

So…are you into Shannon? (I won’t say a word to anyone.)

I suppressed a sigh and wrote back.

What? Don’t be ridiculous.

I knew she wasn’t going to settle for that, and I was right. She responded again.

Tell me another lie. Tell me there’s nothing there.

I frowned, wondering what she meant, but then a photo popped up on the screen. A picture of Shan and me when I was inspecting his cuff links. That sneaky little bitch. She must’ve taken it while lurking in the shadows somewhere behind me. You couldn’t see my whole face, just a hint of a grin. Shannon was looking down at me with a soft smile, and I couldn’t stop staring at it now.