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“Culinary school, huh? That’d be great for him.”
“Yeah. Problem is, he has to leave here to do it.”
“We could try to get him the same deal as Casey and Carter.”
He shakes his head, dropping his chin. “No, we can’t. I tried. The head is done with that. He told the director to tell us that he’d need to fucking declassify this place at the rate we’re all breaking rules. And I guess I can’t exactly argue that.”
“Maybe he could move in with Carter? Casey’s room is open.”
“Yeah. Right. Um… maybe.”
I eye him, almost laughing at his discomfort. Then I remember how I felt when Casey left and I don’t feel like laughing anymore. “You could go with him. The operation is done now. We’re allowed to retire at any time.”
“I’ve been considering that. I think Travis is close to retiring. Or maybe not fully retiring but doing what Keats does. Dropping in for quick missions. I wouldn’t mind that.”
“I’ve thought the same, for whenever Casey is ready to leave.”
He hesitates before slowly pulling out his phone and tapping at the screen. He places it on the counter and slides it toward me, letting me see what he pulled up. It’s a real estate page for a house. It’s rustic farmhouse style, white with wood and black accents. Big windows. A sprawling yard full of trees. He swipes his finger, and 10 boxes pop up, each with a little picture inside of them. It’s all wide-open spaces. Wooden floors. Golden lighting. A fireplace in the main living area. A kitchen to die for. Big bedrooms. 8 of them, if the description is accurate. At least two of them seem to come with ensuite bathrooms from what’s shown in the pictures.
“Where is this?” I ask.
“Just 15 minutes from Carter’s apartment.”
I sit back, realizing what this is. What he’s saying. “You’re going to buy it.”
“I was going to ask if we all wanted to go in on it. The operatives. Me, you, Maison, even Ace if he wants. It could be a new safehouse. One without rules. One for our group. Carter can come and go as he pleases. Travis too. Nolan can go to the culinary school at the college in town. Matt can slowly integrate himself into a community. Bryce can take writing classes or whatever else he wants to do. They can work at that pub Carter works at. Or work somewhere else. Or never fucking work again because we’ll provide for them.” He pauses. Takes his phone. Taps a few times. Puts it back in place. Just as I look at the screen, he says, “There’s a pool.”
And there is. I'm looking at a picture of it right now. An indoor pool in the basement, just like we have here. It’s much smaller, of course, but a pool nonetheless.
“For Casey,” I say unnecessarily.
“For Casey,” he agrees.
“Hm.” I rub my thumb along my bottom lip, thinking it over. It would be fucking incredible. There’d be no rush. No pressure. The survivors could take their time as they slowly come out of their shells. I remember how Casey panicked after that trip to the grocery store. The survivors would have a safe place to go when that happens. A place with support. They could all go together to the store first if they wanted, as a pack, a team, a safe little unit that takes on the world together. “Do you know what Dr. Singh gets paid?”
Maison pauses, tilting his head. Then a slow smile curves along his lips as he understands. “Yes, I do. And we can afford him. Especially because I think he’s grown to like us all here quite a bit. You know, he usually doesn’t stay at a safehouse this long. He usually only handles the initial flood and gets everyone settled down. Then he usually goes elsewhere and continues speaking to survivors via video until they’ve left their respective safehouse and are no longer under our protection. But he’s still here.”
“Make him an offer.” I tap the counter beside his phone, the screen still displaying the house. “And talk to Travis and Ace about this. I’m in.”
Casey takes a long nap after his crying session with Dr. Singh, all wrapped up in a fluffy blanket in my lap, David in his arms, the two of us relaxing in bed while the TV plays Lilo & Stitch and then Moana. When he finally wakes up, he’s all bleary-eyed and sleep-warm, nuzzling into my neck and whispering I love you.
After a few sleepy kisses and an hour of cuddles, I finally manage to drag the boy out of bed and to the dinner table. He perks up as the meal progresses, smiling here and there as his friends mess around and poke at him. He even laughs during dessert.
I help Maison with dishes while Nolan and Casey sit on the floor in front of the living room fireplace with glasses of wine, whispering and giggling together. It’s a heartwarming sight that makes both of us grin like idiots as we sneak peeks at them.
When we get back to the bedroom later, his smiles are coming easier. He slips into the bathroom, leaving me to relax on the bed and consider what we should do. He's been very clingy tonight, but I'm not sure he's ready for things to go farther than cuddles and sweet kisses. He's had a pretty trying two days.
I glance at my watch after a few minutes, starting to worry that he hasn't come out of the bathroom yet. It could be a stomachache.
Or it could be him hurting himself.
Just as I'm about to check on him, he opens the door and cautiously reenters the room. I have to fist the bedding to keep from losing it at the sight of him - naked, blushing, and half-hard.
Fuck me.
"Well, hey there, little fish."
"Hi." He shuffles his feet nervously. "So, you said you still love me after what happened, but I wasn't sure if - well, I wanted to know…" He tucks his chin down, squeezing his eyes shut like he can hide from me. His chest shakes with a stuttered breath before he blurts, "Do you still want me?"
