Page 165 of A Lick and A Promise

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That shut his mouth.

But I answered for him. “No, because you’d be all in to do it with them.”

It took him a second, and more to reply, and in those seconds, I wasn’t sure he’d let whatever was in his head loose. Something I was right then remembering happened often in phase one of our relationship, I didn’t go after it hard enough, and it fucked us up.

So I prompted, “Honey, please give it to me.”

He gave it to me.

“I find it hard to be in the fact that I earned their respect like this.”

I clenched my teeth.

I struggled with tamping down images of mental violence against the faceless people who were his family.

I bested that and said, “I hope you get used to it, because you did. You earned it. Those men love you.”

He squeezed my hand and put an end to this by gently tugging his other one from my grip so he could take another pull from his beer.

I let him do that. He needed time with all of this to understand what it meant.

That didn’t mean I wasn’t going to keep a close eye on him while he processed it.

“Sorry, baby,” he muttered when he’d dropped the bottle back to the counter again. “I didn’t ask if you wanted one.”

“I’ll have some wine with dinner.”

He jutted up his chin and then said, “Rounding out the afternoon in the office. Mace cleared me to come in a few hours a day to sit in the control room and keep an eye on the monitors. That is, he cleared me to do that for the next two days. My ass will be in the control room or at a desk for the next two to four weeks.”

I winced because I knew that wasn’t a thrill he was looking forward to.

Knox kept talking.

“It’ll get me out of the house, and I appreciate that. He doesn’t want me there longer than four hours until I’m medically cleared. But that work requires concentration, not action, and he knows I’m going fuckin’ stir crazy hanging around the house all day.”

“Okay.”

“And I talked to Brady. We’re having beers after work tomorrow.”

This was good and made me hopeful.

This was also good because it cleared me to go eat borscht.

What was bad was that now I had to share with him I was going to eat borscht.

I started this convo by inquiring, “I know we’ve committed to honesty, sharing, communicating, and when the need arises, letting it all hang out. That all may seem the same, but I think we understand the nuances. However, like we sorted laundry and dish chores, I think we may want to talk about how honest we expect each other to be.”

His eyes narrowed.

Hmm.

“As in, if the Angels have business, do you want the particulars of that business?” I clarified.

“Yes,” he replied swiftly and inflexibly.

“Okay, well, while you have beers with Brady and sort yourselves out…”

He stared hard at me.