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Gene took that moment to just breathe in the scent of him, and to be honest, Ethan felt the same.
He was a little older, and his raven’s wing hair had some fine strands of gray, but he just looked…sexier.
The man aged well.
Elizabeth, Chris, and Callen were lucky.
Damn lucky.
“I’m sorry it didn’t work out, Gene,” he offered.
Oh, he was aware.
“Me too, and now, I can’t stay here and watch Tommy die. I can’t protect him if he’s a cop. I mean, I’d stay here and be a Hunter, but I’m tired, Ethan. I’m so tired. I’m tired of being afraid I’m going to die, and I’m sick of picking someone’s brains from my shirt. This is not why I came to this city.”
He got it.
He came to escape the cases that haunted him, only to eventually be haunted by worse. Some people chased death and some people were chased by death.
They were both.
Preston had been his one happy moment after they’d gone their separate ways. Ethan had been overjoyed that Gene finally found his person.
And then, he’d gotten the call.
Gene called him right after it happened, and he’d never forget that moment. He’d been crying, and Ethan had hopped on a flight, heading there.
When he arrived at the morgue, Gene was sitting there, numb and alone.
It broke his heart.
“Well, I’ve got you now,” he said, giving him a kiss on the temple.
“Ethan, I don’t know how to do this,” he whispered. “I feel empty again.”
“I know. I’m here,” he promised.
As he caught movement from the corner of his eye, Ethan knew who it would be.
His wife.
“Hey, Baby,” he said, not looking over at her.
From where he lay, Gene jumped again.
“Oh, shit. I’m a deadman.”
Yeah, no, he wasn’t.
Elizabeth wasn’t a jealous nut who would freak out when her fully dressed Native was in bed with his ex. She knew this was a special situation.
This wasn’t Melanie the flight attendant. This was Gene, the man who pieced him together from a shattered life of pain.
They weren’t banging in a secret rendezvous.
Ethan was being there for someone he loved.
Been there.
