Page 51 of Dissonance

“Nope, but that stoic face of yours gave you away.” He takes a sip, then tips the drink toward me, eyes narrowing. “Why did you come back here instead of staying in LA?”

My fingers tighten around my glass. “Because I needed to sort a few things out first.”

“What things?”

“Jesus, lad, what is this? Twenty questions? If I’m going to be going back and forth, someone needs to cover you properly when I’m not around.”

He stares at me. “Lockie…”

“I wasn’t leaving you without protection. Not until I knew the right person was in place.”

“That’s—” He stops, shaking his head. “You sorted cover so you could go back to her?”

“Aye. An old SEAL buddy. He’s good. He can handle it.”

“How long do you think you’ll be gone?” he asks, toying with his glass.

“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “As long as she needs me.”

Silence stretches between us before he frowns.

“What are you going to say to her when you see her?”

“I don’t know.”

“Right, but surely, you’ve thought about what you want out of all of this.”

I shrug.

“Are you planning on staying out there? Coming back? Figure out some sort of arrangement with her?”

“I don’t know, Cooper,” I growl, each question I should have an answer to only making me more frustrated.

“Well, what do you know?” He sounds just as exasperated as I feel. “I’m only trying to understand where your head’s at, Lock.”

“I don’t know where my fucking head’s at,” I bite out, guilt gnawing at me for snapping. “Five days ago, I didn’t even know she was pregnant, so forgive me for not having a plan.” I shake my head and drag a hand over my jaw. “I haven’t even taken her out for dinner before.”

His eyes widen. “It’s a bit late for a first date, no?”

“Aye.”

“So that’s settled then; there’s your step one. Go home, pack a bag, and I’ll get Wyatt to have the plane ready for the morning.”

“It doesn’t work like that,” I say. “What if she needs space?”

Glancing over at Declan, a slow smile forms on his lips. “If I’d given Dec the space he asked for, I wouldn’t be married to the love of my life.” He taps the table. “Go woo her, Lockie. Take her to dinner. Show her you’re not going anywhere.”

I sit there, rolling the glass between my palms as he stands.

“Go back to LA, Lockie,” he says. “You can figure out the rest when you get there.”

He heads for the bar, and I watch him drop onto a stool beside Jerry, laughing immediately at something the old man says. I pour another finger of whiskey, swirling it without looking at anything in particular.

Twelve years. Four nights scattered across time and distance. Lives that never quite lined up, moments stolen but never enough. And somewhere in the middle of it all, we ended up here. A child growing inside her, a jet ready in the morning, and a conversation I have absolutely no idea how to start.

This is the hardest job I’ve ever had.

And I haven’t even started it yet.