Page 219 of Bossy Hero

My jaw and neck hurt from the prolonged strain of clenching my teeth. As for my shoulders, they’re so full of tension that my knots have knots. My stomach does too; so that’s fun for me.

I’ve had enough experience living in fear to know these aches and pains are the fallout from being stuck in fight-or-flight mode. When you’rethisscared forthislong, your body starts to break down. Especially at my age.

The closer we get to the twentieth of January—also known asD-Day—the higher tensions have gotten for everyone. Redleg is a pressure cooker. And the lid is defective and mere seconds away from blowing the roof off.

Well, it’s two days away if we’re splitting hairs.

And now Alan’s about to leave me.

Not permanently. Just for the next few days.

Sawyer’s traveling with Alan and the team to the Port of Miami, and I’ll be here to help Sammy with my grandbabies while he’s gone.

I still can’t believe my daughter gave birth to two babies. In my mind, she’s still a precocious child herself. And now she’s a wife and mother.

Not sure I’ll ever get over the memory of Alan holding little Logan while I cuddled Laci, showing them off to the rest of the Redleg family in the hospital waiting room. By far the most memorable Christmas we’ll ever have.

I skim my palms up Alan’s chest, settling them on his broad shoulders. “What are the chances of you coming back here to sleep with me tonight when you’re done working?”

He shakes his head, an air of reluctance surrounding him. “It’ll be very late. We’ve got a lot to do.”

I bat my eyelashes. “Well, the babies will probably keep me up most of the night. So it’s not like you’d be waking me.”

“We’re leaving for Miami at zero-dark-thirty.”

My lips bunch over to one side as I fight off a pout. “Fine. I’ll just be here, all lonely in this big, comfortable bed.”

“Weren’t you the one who said you needed a break?”

“Not from you. I only wanted to get away from the chaos of Redleg.”

Truth time—that’s atinywhite lie.

When I told him we needed space from each other, I was in the middle of a menopausal episode, sweating buckets from every pore in my body and struggling with some lingering PTSD-esque panic. The stress of D-Day was wreaking havoc with my hormones like a witches’ brew bubbling over. So when he was hovering like a damn umbrella, I sort of screamed at him.

He laughed, saying it was more of a grizzly roar than a scream.

Handsome buttface.

Those without a uterus have it way too easy. Unfair.

I’m unsure where to lodge a complaint about this injustice, but after the Lenkov mess settles, doing so is my number one priority.

But back to the point. Now that I’m emotionally stable—or stable-adjacent—I don’t want to sleep by myself. I haven’t spent a night away from him in months. With it about to happen, I’ve realized I’m ready for the commitment he’s been gunning for since... well, since he met me, assuming his words can be believed.

And they can.

I should tell him before he leaves. He deserves to know. I’ve drawn it out long enough.

The mocha of his irises sparkles with golden flecks as he burns his gaze into me.

I want to blink. However, I also feel closer to him this way, so I keep my eyes open, letting him see everything. “Are you doing the brain probe thing right now?”

He nods, an impish grin eating up his entire face. “Can’t help it. You’re so open with me lately.”

“What do you see when you look at me like this?”

“So damn much.”

---