Page 83 of Jonesing for a Spy

“Next time, we may have different news, Freckles, but for now, there’s no baby.”

She sniffles. I pull her tight to my chest and hold her in silence until her breathing evens out.

“I wasn’t ready. I don’t think we are ready, but… They wouldn’t have been unwelcome.”

“Yeah. A Jones Anderson mashup sounds like a hell of a lot of fun.” I kiss her temple. “Next time.”

“Okay, honey. Next time.”

She softens in my arms moments later, her breathing going rhythmic and airy.

But me… I lie awake, holding a woman I never want to be without, knowing that the result of those tests doesn’t matter. We would’ve been the same either way. She’s mine. I’ll find a way to make it work. And one day, one of those tests will show the configuration of lines we’re looking for.

And we’ll begin that adventure.

Together.

35

circle-approach-abort

Strider

Leaving her at the airport was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I booked the flights and didn’t think about what it would mean to be the first one out, even if it was only by twenty minutes. If I’d put her on the plane and then had to make mine, it would’ve sucked, but I wouldn’t feel like I bailed and left her defenseless and alone, especially as emotional as our weekend was.

That shitty feeling stays with me until I know she’s safely on board—her text says she is—and my mind can busy itself on other things. Namely, what it takes to move my business to Alabama. Or if I sell in Peoria and begin again. It’ll be hard. But Mirren’s worth it.

But more pressing is the whereabouts of Price O’Neill. And whatever nefarious shit he may be up to.

Dad’s heard nothing from Chief Clasky, at least that he’s relayed back to me. In hindsight, it may not have been wise to leave my house and my business vulnerable. Mom and Dad being out of town could be widely known. But me leaving for two days at the same time?

I don’t even care. I got twenty-four hours with Mirren. And the decision was made before I knew he escaped. Not that that matters.

Walking back into my house blind is stupid. The least I could do is be prepared. Though how I’m supposed to be prepared for a man who proved he’s capable of violence even with witnesses is not in my wheelhouse.

Any updates from Gene on O’Neill?

Several minutes go by as I stare out the window before my phone vibrates.

Dad

None. I’ve been texting with him off and on since Friday morning, and he’s still no closer to answers. Everything he asks is blocked. Each time he asks, he gets the run-around.

He’s pissed and keeps demanding more, all the while he’s being told to stand down. He’s concerned they’ll remove him if he keeps pushing. He’s more concerned with how to protect his people in the face of unaccountable political power. You know Gene.

What am I supposed to say to that?

Thanks.

We pushed our flight out and won’t be back until Wednesday. Lorien mentioned a bunch of places to sightsee, and, since you’re holding down the home front, we have no need to rush back.

Good. I’m sure Lorien’s loving having you there.

Diane would be happier if she had all her chicks close by. Her daughters living so far away isn’t ideal. She wants you all to live your own lives, but I can tell she wishes you were all on the same street and she could see everyone daily.

Being a parent is tough when your kids fly the coop. And knowing Lorien’s found Liam is equal parts good and bad for your mom. She loves that Lo’s safe and happy, but knowing the chances are slim that she’ll come home is hard. She feels the same about Samantha, though Sam’s always been gone… even when she was at home.

Yeah, that wasn’t the answer I was expecting. I hadn’t considered I’d be disappointing Mom with my upcoming move. Dad? Sure. But that was about the business, about his life’s work, not about me, per se.