Page 88 of My Fallen Saint

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Iwake on Thursday to the feel of Devlin’s hand lightly stroking my hip. I keep my eyes closed and my breathing even, unsure if it’s desire or melancholy that’s guiding his touch, and even more unsure which I want it to be.

I continue to play possum as he gets out of bed, and the sound of the shower lulls me back into sleep. When I finally rouse again, the house is empty, but Devlin’s left a note for me by the coffee maker.

I’m glad you came, and I’m glad we talked. There is a bit more sunshine in my life now that I’ve told you about my past - D

PS - you are temptation personified. I never knew how strong I was until I resisted you this morning.

The last makes me laugh, not only because it’s sweet, but because it’s bullshit. I’ve always known he was strong. Now, knowing his story, I understand more fully just how strong he is.

I head back to the bedroom to get dressed. There’s a patio off the master that’s accessed through a sliding glass door. It’s hidden behind blackout drapes, and when I pull them aside, light floods the room and I find myself looking at a huge patio with a seating area on one side and a home gym on the other, complete with weights, a rowing machine, and a punching bag. I remember Devlin’s knuckles, and think that he gets a lot of use out of that bag.

When I turn away from the view, I notice the three framed pictures on his chest of drawers. Small frames tucked in around the wooden bowls he uses for loose change, keys, that kind of thing.

I hadn’t noticed them before because I wasn’t exactly in the room to inspect the interior design. But with the light reflecting off the brass frames, they glow. I don’t recognize the people in two of them. One a woman standing beside a little boy who I think might be Devlin. The other of Devlin with an older man in jeans and a T-shirt, a Special Forces tattoo peeking out from under the short sleeve. The final picture is one I remember of me standing by myself at the beach, looking back at Alex who was being a pain in the ass by insisting he take my photo.

Unlike the others, he’s not in the photo, and I feel a little stab when I realize why—because he couldn’t use any photo of the two of us together. Because the boy in those pictures would be—is—Alex.

Which means he went out of his way to search for one of me alone. A photo he’s saved all this time. And thinking that I’m part of his little gallery makes me smile.

I’m still smiling when I leave the house to head back to Brandy’s place. I grab a coffee, then sit on a stool in her sewing room while she works on some custom bag orders and tells me about Christopher. How he’s smart and sweet and funny. “He gets me,” she says. “It’s nice.”

“And still no pressure?”

She shakes her head. “Nope. None. He says that I’m worth waiting for.”

“Keeper,” I say.

“Maybe,” she says with a shrug, but she looks pleased. She’s still smiling when she tilts her head and asks, “So? Devlin? You look okay now, but yesterday was highly dramatic.”

“Yeah. I know. Sorry about that.”

She shoots me an oh, please look before making some sort of adjustment on her machine. How she hasn’t stitched her fingers together is a miracle to me. “I just want to know you’re okay. And if you feel like telling me every single gory detail because it will help you to talk it through, then know that I’m here for you.”

“God, I love you. I’m going to top off my coffee. I need all the caffeine for this. Want anything?”

“A smoothie. There are some in the fridge.”

I fetch our beverages, then settle in to tell her the entire story. Or, at least, the PG-13 version. When I’m done, she’s no longer sewing. Instead, she’s leaning back in her chair, her mouth hanging slightly open.

“The Wolf,” she says. “Holy shit. That guy was Alex’s father?”

I nod. “Devlin, remember. And that’s not public, so be careful.”

“Right.” She nods. “Yeah. Right.”

I watch as she considers all of that and see when the question flickers on her face. “Why, though? The Wolf’s dead. Why the secrecy?”

“I didn’t ask him specifically, but I can guess easily enough. The Wolf had a huge network. Do you really think that if his former Lieutenants knew who Devlin actually was that they wouldn’t want a hefty payday for their trouble?”

She makes a face. “Oh. Yeah. Basically, he’s a walking target. Which,” she adds as I nod, “is probably why he’s pushing you away.”

She’s not wrong, but I take some comfort in the fact that we’re comfortable together again. I still want more—I can’t deny it—though I know I can’t have it. But at least he’s in my life again.

I leave Brandy to her sewing when Lamar texts and asks if I want to go to the range with him. After the press conference for Myers, I’d mentioned to him that I was out of practice. I guess he took that to heart.

It’s an indoor range a few miles inland from the police station. I meet him there, and we check-in with his unloaded firearms, then buy the ammo for the range. We’re assigned to station seven, and as we settle in, I look over and am surprised to see Devlin and Ronan at the far end of the room at stations one and two.