He left the office. He was halfway to the exit when Gina caught up to him.
“Colin. Wait.”
He stopped and turned.
She was watching him with those sharp, assessing eyes that missed exactly nothing. “You doing okay with this one?”
No.
“I’m fine.”
Gina’s mouth curved, just slightly, not quite a smile. “Liar.”
“Gina—”
“I owe you a conversation. And an apology,” she said, surprising him. “I want you to understand why I said Maren was on a need-to-know basis at first.”
“You don’t have to?—”
“I know I don’t.” Her gold eyes held a steady gaze. “My family used trust as currency. They knew exactly where I was soft, and they used me. Deliberately.” She said it with the same tone someone might use to talk about the weather. “And one of the people I trusted most in this world was a traitor. I lost people because of it.”
“I’m sorry.”
She shook her head. “It’s old news. But I still…” She looked away, but not before Colin caught a glimpse of pain in her eyes. “Arden is…she’s a sister to me. I protect her the way I would have protected the people I lost if I’d known then what I know now. That’s not the same as not trusting Maren.”
“But you do now?”
“I do.” She held his gaze. “And Kyle’s right. Keeping her in the dark won’t protect her.”
“Good.”
Gina studied him for a moment. “You were mad as hell that I didn’t trust her.”
“I was.”
“Are you still?”
Since their last meeting, he’d been angry at Gina for something he would’ve done himself in another life.
“No. I understand where you’re coming from now.”
“Good.” Gina nodded, almost to herself. “She’s clean. Time to let her into the family.” She studied Colin again, then smiled. “I can see you agree.”
Before he could answer, Lachlan was standing behind him with Fleur, who trotted past Colin and sat beside Gina’s feet. Lach put a hand on Colin’s shoulder—brief, grounding.
“You’re doing good work, son. Keep doing it.”
Colin nodded and left before anyone else could read him that easily.
He spent the drive back to the safehouse thinking about Maren. About how somewhere between the gate and a little girl asking if he was her daddy, to pinkie-promising that he’d always come back, this had stopped being just a job and started being something more. He thought about the way Maren had looked at him last night when they’d both wanted the same thing and chosen not to take it. About how badly he wanted to get back to the safehouse just to see her again, even though he’d left less than two hours ago.
Back in the garden,he waited until Arden and Ellie had taken the girls inside—Star was flagging and Juni, to her great credit, had declared that Star needed a snack and to rest from fairy-hunting, which was Juni-speak forI also need a snack and a nap—before he sat down with Maren and Mac at the garden table.
The afternoon had gone soft. The sun was angled low enough that the flower beds threw long shadows across the grass.
He told Maren everything.
He watched Maren’s face while he talked, the way she held very still for the parts that were hard and then let herself breathe again at the parts that weren’t. The caller was still a ghost. Trained, probably. The kind of person who planned for not coming back.
