Page 63 of Pieces of Us

“Excuses, excuses,” he says with a tsk before deepening the kiss yet again. He’s bringing his hand to cup the side of my neck just as something clatters a few feet away.

The kiss breaks, but Maison shifts me so I’m trapped safely between his back and the counter. I glance around him to see who it is, laughing a little when I find Matt standing there with wide eyes. It isn’t until I try to move and Maison stops me that I realize he’s still on high alert. There’s a slight tremble to his body.

“Mais,” I say softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay. Just Matt, see?”

He takes a deep breath before stepping away from me with a jerky nod. “Right. Sorry. Reflexes.”

Maybe it is reflexes. He’s a soldier after all. But maybe it’s that trauma he seems to be in denial about. Worry gnaws at my gut, but I push it aside for now as Matt lifts a hand to sign, sorry.

Before I can tell him it’s okay, Maison is speaking and signing at the same time. “It’s okay. We’re happy to see you.”

My heart has trouble deciding if it wants to ba-thump like crazy in my chest or melt into a useless puddle. He’s been practicing signing.

Matt gives Maison a sheepish smile. I came to see if Nolan needs help.

I answer him, signing the best I can as I go, “Oh, I definitely need help. This one here keeps stealing my food. Go away, Maison. Leave it to the responsible adults.”

Maison sticks his tongue out at me, then at Matt when Matt laughs under his breath.

“Mean. The both of you,” he says, only signing the second sentence. He must not know the sign for mean yet. I’d teach him, but I don’t want to reward such poor behavior. I wink at him instead. He’s grinning to himself as he leaves.

That was interesting, Matt signs, his eyebrows raised.

“Shut up.” I playfully push him toward the oven, face hot. “I need to shred the pot roast. Can you pop those rolls in the oven?”

He narrows his eyes at me. You won’t escape talking about this.

“I’m not trying to. I just need to finish dinner.”

With a huff, he pulls out his notebook and scribbles across it before turning it around to face me. He stabs his finger against it for emphasis. It reads: SINCE FUCKING WHEN HAVE THE TWO OF YOU BEEN MAKING OUT?!? IS THIS THE FIRST TIME? WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME?

I wince. “It’s been going on for a week.” When his jaw drops, I put up a hand. “Hey, I was going to tell you. It’s just…” I glance around, not wanting Maison to be listening. I lower my voice in case he’s around a corner. “It feels like if I talk about it or acknowledge it, it’s going to disappear.”

He nods and bites his lip, looking sympathetic. I can tell he’s thinking, his fingers twitching at his sides, so I give him time. He eventually lifts his hand and simply signs, you look happy.

“Yeah.” I turn my back, hoping he’ll take the hint that I’m not ready to explore this further. “That’s sort of the problem. Happy is scary. Happy can disappear.”

He hugs me from behind, giving me an extra squeeze before forcing me to turn and look at him. His hand trembles as he signs, sometimes happy stays.

I start to cry. He holds me until I have it under control and does me the courtesy of nodding like he believes me when I blame it on the steam from the pot roast after.

The dinner with everyone goes great, no one arguing or making passive-aggressive comments or leaving because of a panic attack. The operatives even leave us survivors to hang out on our own for a while, a few of us talking about what we might want to do after we leave the safehouse someday. It’s nice. More than nice, even. It’s a lot like that happiness Matt said I may not have to worry about losing.

I find Maison waiting for me down by the fireplace, no fire in sight. He has his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans and a soft smile on his lips. “Hey.”

My heart trips all over itself. Fucking hell, how dare you make me such a fucking mess, Maison Beckett. “Hey. Um—how’d it go with Carter?”

“Good. I told him everything I practiced. Told him that I was wrong about him and Trav and I’m happy for them and supporting them. It wasn’t magic or anything, but he was smiling when we finished, and he teased me, called me an old man, so—yeah. Good, I think. A start, at least.” He moves toward me, one hand coming out of his jeans to reach for my hip. I feel weak as it settles there, like he’s suddenly the only thing keeping me up. “I wanted to ask… would you want to spend the night with me? Just to sleep. Maybe kiss a little. Maybe hold you. I miss sleeping with you.”

My heart doesn’t trip this time. It just gives up altogether and falls down to the floor in a swoon. “I’d like that. Let me just tell Matt.”

“Alright.” He presses the softest kiss to my lips, lingering just long enough for me to feel when they start spreading into another smile. “Meet you up there?”

“Absolutely.”

He gives me a final look, like he’s scared to lose sight of me, before heading up to bed. I don’t take as long. I pretty much run to the room I still share with Matt despite there being plenty of empty ones now. Matt isn’t awake, so I scribble a note informing him I’m in Maison’s room for the night and that I want him to come get me if he needs me for any reason, then put it on his bedside table.

Maison’s coming out of the bathroom when I slip through his left-open bedroom door. He pauses with a toothbrush hanging out of the corner of his mouth, giving me a lazy half-smile with the side of his mouth not occupied. There’s a little bit of toothpaste foam on his bottom lip. Fuck me sideways, how is it possible for such a thing to be hot? My cock starts to harden, making me a little dizzy.

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