Page 20 of Sworn to Protect

“You’re right.”

And then she’s gone. I turn back to the living room and take a deep breath. This right here—helping her—is why I stayed in Naperville. It’s my purpose. Forty minutes later, the oven buzzer alerts that supper is ready.

“You boys ready to eat?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Yes, Mr. Dixon.”

“Okay, when your mother isn’t around, please call me Nate.”

The youngest one giggles while the oldest one smirks. “Mom won’t like that.”

“Not that I want to keep secrets from your mom, but Mr. Dixon is best reserved for my dad.” Even if it’s indirectly, since it’s not quite his name, I don’t want reminders about him. Ever.

Sadness coats Liam’s eyes, and I want to kick myself for mentioning the word dad. I have so much to learn about kids.

“Where is your daddy? My daddy is dead. He was like Aquaman—a superhero.”

“More like Captain America.” Liam’s quick response deters from Nick’s first question. Which I’m grateful for. I’d rather not discuss my dad with anyone, let alone two young boys.

“No! You said DC Comics is better, so Daddy has to be like them.”

Liam lets out a frustrated sigh, and before they get into a bickering contest, I distract them.

“How about we tackle that lasagna your mom cooked?” The two bobbing heads make me chuckle. “Alright.”

I serve their portions, and Nick’s eyes widen as he eyes his plate.

“That’s a lot,” he whisper-shouts.

“Remember, Mom says to clean our plates,” Liam taunts, his giggles ringing through the air. I glance at Nick’s plate and wince. His portion covers most of the surface. I suppose it’s overkill for a five-year-old. Shit, I do have a lot to learn about kids.

“You don’t have to eat it all. We’ll put your leftovers in a container for tomorrow.” I suppress the laugh bubbling up at his relieved breath. This kid sure is cute.

When I sink my mouth into the melted cheese, I die. Not literally, but close enough. This is the best meal I’ve had since . . . My brain conjures the memory of my mother’s last decent home-cooked meal—pot roast with potatoes, carrots, and green beans. It was back when times were simpler. Back before I enlisted twenty-one years ago. I was the determined teenager who forced my father’s permission at seventeen. I needed to fast-track my life and get as far away from home and him as possible. Enlisting saved me. I have no regrets other than not saving these boys’ father. Their anguish will haunt me until the day I die.

After the meal, we clean the kitchen mess and the morning dishes. The rest of the evening passes without any problems. Mackenzie has done an excellent job raising these two guys. Other than little sibling squabbles, they’re golden. They’re pretty different than the hellions Ethan had described.

The kids play Minecraft while I straighten some piles of magazines. The house is nearly clean but cluttered. What appears to be two, if not three, loads of laundry are piled on the far end of the couch and kick my need for order into overdrive. Tackling a load of towels first, I place them in the bathroom closet. I fold the remaining clothes and stack them neatly on the couch. No way am I stepping into her bedroom to put them up. I glance around the tinyhouse and nod in approval. Hopefully, she isn’t offended by my cleaning. I don’t judge her housekeeping skills. She’s too busy juggling three roles to keep up with daily chores. I understand how she can fall behind, but these tasks help me as much as her. I can’t seem to relax. Something feels off.

When the kids finish mining their world, they brush their teeth and head to bed. I’m left alone in a house that has yet to be turned into a home. Her moving boxes, which I assume contain the house décor, sit piled in her bedroom. I noticed them the other day and wondered why she hadn’t sifted through them. Maybe she isn’t planning on staying here.

An hour later, that uneasiness I felt earlier refuses to subside. The house feels too still. The kids are in bed, but something is off.

I push off the couch and check on the boys. The most angelic expression coats their faces as I peer through their doorway. When was the last time I slept without a care in the world? I can’t even remember. I can lie to myself and say it was before Ethan’s death, but that wouldn’t be truthful. Peaceful sleep and dreamless nights have evaded me for years.

Nick mumbles something incoherent, and the sound tugs at my lips, causing a soft smile. I’ve never pictured myself having kids. It’s a scenario I couldn’t envision. And given my career path, it would’ve been devastating. After spending time with these two, I can see the draw. Maybe I am missing out and got this whole parenting concept wrong. I shake my head. No. I’m not good for kids. It’s my fault these two boys lie in bed fatherless. I don’t deserve to have a family, let alone be anyone’s dad. How could I when I couldn’t save the ones I loved the most?

I step toward the living room, bitterness clawing at my throat. I don’t make it far when a soft clicking sound stops me cold. Sliding my hand to the Glock holstered underneath my shirt, I glance at the open-faced clock. Ten fifteen. Mackenzie is due home any second, but the noise didn’t come from the front door. It came from the kitchen.

Inch by inch, I stalk down the hall, my hand securely on theweapon. The last thing I want to do is draw a gun on someone when the kids are home. My job was more along the lines of saving lives instead of taking them, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know how to shoot. When it comes to defending my country, my unit, and these kids, I won’t hesitate.

And as the thought fleets through my mind, the kitchen window slides open and sparks my plan into action. I race to the kitchen with the gun drawn. The intruder lands on the floor with a loud thump. When he tries to stand, I click the safety off as the front door opens.

“Don’t even think about it, asshole.”

CHAPTER TEN

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