Page 161 of What Started In Deception

Fighting back a yawn, he rubbed at his gritty eyes, trying to remember the last time he’d felt this exhausted. He’d been up for hours, strategizing and coordinating with Mason and Mason’s Boston-based DEA team after his friend’s plane landed shortly after midnight.

He’d tried to lie down just before dawn to catch a few Zs, but he’d watched the sunrise from his crappy motel bed instead, keeping his phone close the entire time, hoping that Lydia might call.

But she didn’t. Nor had she responded to his texts or picked up his calls when he’d tried to reach out to her throughout the late afternoon and evening.

It had taken all of his willpower not to go back to the compound so they could talk and work things out, but Lydia clearly needed some space.

He sighed, remembering how she’d struggled to blink back her tears and keep her voice steady when she told him to leave. He’d hurt her—blindsided her, which he hated.

He didn’t want things to end like they had. He didn’t want them to end at all, but he had no idea what the hell to do anymore. He was an FBI agent in Washington, DC, and Lydia lived in Oliver Heights. They had led entirely different lives before they met, and they would again.

The car slowed, pulling onto the Monroes’ property.

“This driveway that goes to the back,” he told his driver when he easily could have gone in through the front door, but he was hoping to catch Lydia out doing her laps in the pool, wanting nothing more than to start a conversation and fix things. But he frowned as the car came to a stop, realizing that Lydia’s Kia was gone.

“Thanks,” he said as he got out, glancing toward the main house when the back door opened, and Will stepped outside.

“Morning,” Will said, wearing ratty shorts and a T-shirt, still looking like shit but not nearly as bad as yesterday.

“Morning,” he said as he started up the path. “Where’s Lydia?”

“She went home.”

His eyes widened. “To Virginia?”

Will nodded. “She texted me at one thirty this morning, letting me know that she made it back safely.”

“Fuck,” he said as he shook his head, raking his fingers through his hair, knowing that any chance of making things right was now officially gone. “Fuck.”

“She was pretty upset when she tore out of here. She said you guys broke up.”

He nodded, not wanting to play the FBI’s bullshit game anymore. “Yeah, things weren’t working out.”

Will frowned. “That’s what she said, too, but I can’t pretend that I’m not surprised. Things seemed like they were fine. More than fine.”

He shrugged. “We had our problems.” But he nearly choked on his words as he spoke them because he’d never said anything more untrue. Lydia was the very best thing that had ever happened to him. Everything about their relationship had been exactly right.

“You guys breaking up had nothing to do with me?”

He shook his head. “I didn’t say anything to Lydia about what you and I talked about yesterday.”

Will sighed as he nodded. “Okay. Maybe you guys can work things out.”

“Maybe,” he said as he shrugged. But it was highly unlikely.

Will looked from himself to Ty as Ty wore the same clothes that he’d had on yesterday, only today, his shirt and shorts were wrinkled to hell. “You and me… We’re quite the pair. I think it’s safe to say that we both look like we’ve had our asses handed to us.”

Ty couldn’t help but grin as Will told it like it was. Two days’ worth of scruff on their jaws and a complete lack of sleep. Neither one of them was wearing it well. “I guess we’re just lucky like that.”

Will huffed out a laugh. “What a fucking mess.”

Ty sighed. “Yes. In fact, let’s go inside and talk about the FBI’s plan.”

“Yeah, sure thing.”

Ty glanced at Lydia’s pretty pool house before he walked inside and shut the door, following Will to the living room where they both took a seat—Ty on the couch and Will on one of the big, comfy chairs.

Ty moved a rattle and one of Everly’s books to the coffee table. “Have you heard from Mac?”