Page 63 of Known By You
Cookie’s prompt was all I needed. These men and I had been through some of the hardest things imaginable during our time in service, and then again as we got out, and in the last few years, our bond had only solidified. They were my family now, and something about sitting here sipping coffee and eating homemade croissants with them reminded me why I didn’t have to stay broken by what had happened yesterday.
“Sometimes, I wish we didn’t have a morality clause,” Stone said, his regret audible.
Cookie and I laughed, knowing he’d never break the handful of morality-based requirements Saint Security put in place, and yet loving him for even saying such a thing.
No, Stone could not murder my family in retribution for the pain they’d caused me. But again, I loved him for even making the joke, though I’d never actually want him to do it, and he never would.
What we’d all done in service to our country had left scars on our bodies and our souls. There was freedom in knowing we’d never do some of those things again. And pain in knowing we’d never do others.
“It’s small stuff. When I think of the things we saw, this is so, so small. But damn if it doesn’t crack me wide open just thinking about it.” Moisture gathered in my eyes, but I breathed through it. What I wouldn’t give my family? Any more of my tears.
“It is small in some ways and fundamental in others. They are the people who are supposed to love you and accept you and they have failed in this. But you know it istheirfailure, not yours. It istheircruelty, not your fault. It istheirloss, not your burden.”
When Cookie—Luc—felt strongest, he sometimes slipped into French, so the string of words that followed was rapid and passionate. I felt the vehemence of his words despite not knowing exactly what he’d said. He seemed to know these truths well, like he spoke from experience. Curiosity flared in me, but Stone spoke before I found the right words to ask a question.
“Family wounds are just that—they are wounds. Even when they heal over, they don’t disappear. Just like anything else, they stay with us. And maybe sometimes we suffer through healing them, but it doesn’t take away the memory of the pain or the healing. It doesn’t make us immune from remembering the pain and being affected by it.”
Stone’s words were weighted with so much hard-won wisdom, I never took a single one uttered for granted.
“Thank you. Thank you both. For coming. For being the family I’ve chosen and who has—” I cleared my throat, the emotion building up again. “For choosing me.”
Stone nodded in acknowledgment and Cookie set a hand on my shoulder and shook me lightly. “Bien sûr, mon frère.”
Of course, my brother. And there it was.
These two men had chosen me like I’d chosen them. And there were more members of our rag tag family.
A tiny scratching sound reached me, and I jumped to my feet. “I forgot about him.”
In seconds, I ran to the door and released Kit, whoscampered down the hall and directly into the kitchen. I scooped him up before he darted away again, snuggling him to me. A flash of memory from last night hit, the moment when I’d pressed Liz’s hand to my chest burning through me.Yeah,might need to apologize for that, too.
Stone made a mildly pained sound and Cookie let out a stream of expletives in French, his eyes wide.
“Uh, what just happened?” I asked, turning side to side, looking behind me to figure out what was going on with them.
“He’s so… tiny.” Stone was winded and looked like a cartoon version of himself, his eyes wide and pupils practically blown as he gazed at my kitten.
“I love you, Kenny, butça, c’est pourquoi—he’s the reason we came,” Cookie said, reaching greedy hands for the tiny mewing cat.
I laughed, a moment of pure joy filling me as these grown ass men fell all over themselves over my mangey little cat.
“The truth comes out,” I said, as though I’d found out something I didn’t already know.
These two were ridiculous, but I’d keep them.
And as soon as I could, I’d thank Liz for sending them to me and helping me get grounded in so much goodness before I could sink back down into the bad feelings again.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Elizabeth
Walking in dangerous places wasn’t foreign to me. I’d run enough missions in the face of actual peril, I’d become familiar with it.
And yet, this dangerous ground was completely new. The perils were coming at me from all over the place and I hardly knew what to do with myself. These weren’t international terrorist organizations or threats to the US’s security. They weren’t spies trying to infiltrate our intelligence or a crime syndicate gaining power in foreign nations that could influence anti-US sentiment.
These threats came in the form of six women with glasses of champagne and romance novels in their hands.
“Honestly, I would seriously rethink living in a small town where there are stalkers, multiple serial killers, and then some weird doomsday cult where they want the women to literally stay barefoot and pregnant and whetherpart of their cult or no, is all happening within a year of my moving there.” Nikki, Bruce’s fiancée, looked around for backup.
