After a long moment, Stone said, almost like a challenge, “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were avoiding me.”
Dave’s jaw worked. He glanced at him, squinted, then back to the horizon. “Maybe I am.”
Stone stopped walking. Dave took two more steps before turning, the distance between them suddenly more than sand.
“Why?” Stone’s voice carried over the surf, steady but weighted.
Dave’s throat tightened. He wanted to say because of Clinton’s poison, because of Law, because he didn’t know how to let him all the way in without tearing down the control that held him together.
What came out was quieter. “Because I don’t know if I can be what you need me to be.”
Stone’s expression flickered—hurt first, then something harder underneath. He stepped closer, the tide swirling around his boots. “What I need is you, Dave. That’s it. The rest of the world, the missions, the threats—none of it means shit if I don’t have you.”
Dave swallowed, the words hitting deeper than he wanted to admit. He could feel the heat of Stone this close, the raw certainty in his voice, the steadiness he craved and feared in equal measure.
Hell, he’d commanded armies, but the feelings this man conjured up terrified him.
Then Stone’s voice dropped, growl-edged. “And for the record—I don’t answer to asshats. I’ve been texting, calling, and every damn time, Clinton picks up your private line. You even know that?”
Dave froze.
The realization hit like a blade. “He’s been what…?”
“Yeah,” Stone bit out. “Screening. Blocking. Acting like he gets to decide if I reach you.”
Stunned anger shot through Dave’s chest, sharp and simmering.
Normally, he wanted Clinton to filter, to run interference, to keep the noise out.
But not Stone.
Never Stone.
Dave’s hand fisted at his side, rage tamped down only by the sight of Stone standing there, close enough to touch.
Stone exhaled through his nose, some of the heat bleeding out of him. Then, without warning, he stepped in and hauled Dave against him in a tight bear hug.
Dave’s chest hit solid muscle, the embrace rough and unyielding, but grounding in a way he hadn’t let himself feel in years.
For a moment, he didn’t move. Then, slowly, against every instinct to keep the walls up, he sank into it.
Stone’s arms closed around him, iron-strong, steady, safe.
And before Dave could think, Stone leaned in—his mouth brushing his temple, then finding his lips. The kiss was brief, tender, but enough to steal the air from his lungs.
It wasn’t open, wasn’t hungry. Just a quiet press of certainty.I’m here. I’m not letting go.
Dave swallowed hard, heart hammering, then let himself lean closer—embracing it, returning the kiss with a brush of his mouth.
When they finally pulled apart, neither spoke. They didn’t need to. He searched Stone’s face, those gray eyes, and found that soft light that was always there.
For him.
Dave glanced around. The bluff above was empty; the beach and kiss stayed theirs alone.
Stone turned him toward home and they walked back together, neither pushing for more, but something between them had shifted.
The breeze was cool. The surf thundered steadily behind them, the tide chasing their footprints before the next wave carried them away.
