Page 58

“You skinned your knee.”

“Death was a possibility,” Xavier whines.

I hear Jaxon’s laugh before I see it. And just like that, some of the tension I’ve been carrying all afternoon eases. I want to hear that sound more. I want to be the reason for it. The thought hits harder than it should. Before I can stop myself, I cross the room. My arms slide around his waist, pulling him against me.

Jaxon comes willingly, like he’s gotten used to my touch. I lower my head, intending to kiss him. These’s a hesitation when he kisses me back, brief but there.

“What is it, A Chroí?” The teasing expression he’d been wearing fades. Concern taking its place.

“I know you all said you know what you’re doing.” His hands settle against my chest. “And I know nobody here seems worried.” He gives a small shake of his head. “But I can’t help it.” His voice softens. “Promise me you’ll be safe.”

The words settle heavily in my chest. “Jaxon—”

“And come home as soon as you can.”

Home. It’s the first time he’s used that word. Not your house. Not your place. Home. Something warm and fierce blooms inside my chest. The kind of feeling that’s equal parts hope and possessiveness. Dangerous in its intensity.

I cup his jaw gently. Making sure he looks at me. “I promise, A Chroí.”

The worry doesn’t leave his eyes, but some of the tension eases. I press a kiss to his forehead. Holding it there for a second longer than necessary. “I’ll be back before you know it.” I leave to the sounds of Ollie giggling and Xavier making weird noises at him.

I slide into the passenger seat of the plain sedan and immediately regret every life choice that brought me to this moment. My knees slam into the dash.

“Jesus Christ.”

I shove the seat back as far as it will go. Which isn’t nearly far enough. I hate this car already. Give me one of the SUVs, or trucks. Anything with enough room for my legs.

Beside me, Uncle Duncan isn’t faring much better. The sedan looks like it was designed by someone with a personal grudge against tall people. His shoulders nearly fill the driver’s seat. His knees are bent at an angle that can’t possibly be comfortable. Yet somehow he looks completely unbothered.

“This is ridiculous,” I mutter.

“Mm.”

I glance over at him. “That’s your response?”

“Yes.”

“We’re folded into this thing like origami.”

“Mm.”

“You know, most people our size would buy larger vehicles.”

“This one attracts less attention.”

I hate that he’s right. The entire reason we’re driving this miserable excuse for transportation is that nobody looks twice at a plain sedan. Two giant Irishmen climbing out of a lifted truck tends to draw more attention. Still doesn’t mean I have to like it. I shift again, searching for a position that doesn’t make me feel like my knees are trying to occupy the same space as my lungs.

The car is silent. Which isn’t unusual, not when I’m with Uncle Duncan. We’ve spent entire days together without speaking more than a handful of words. The silence has never bothered either of us. What is unusual is the sideways glances he keeps throwing my way.

Most people wouldn’t notice them. Mostly because Duncan doesn’t do anything without a reason. Another glance. Then another. I shift in my seat.

“You keep looking at me.”

“Yes.”

Of course, that’s his answer.

“Why?”