Page 94 of Brawler
Her cell buzzed, and he went to step away for privacy, but she clasped his forearm. Emily’s face lit up when she saw the name.
“Aunt Moira,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Hi.”
Emily’s voice drifted through him, low and husky with exhaustion and relief. “Yes, Aunt Moira…I’m home. No, really home this time.”
A pause. A soft laugh, half tears. “You were right. It wasn’t my fault. It was about remembering what it feels like to just…be.”
The warmth in her tone wrapped around him like sunlight.
“Tell the garden I’ll visit soon,” she said. “I owe you a hammock afternoon but be prepared for more than me.”
Moira’s voice murmured something, and Emily laughed again, lighter now.
Brawler smiled to himself. Whatever storm had brought her to them, she’d found her way through it. And maybe, just maybe, so had he.
“Yes, I remembered to breathe,” Emily was saying, smiling into the receiver. “And to collect moments. I think I finally started a few worth keeping.”
Her gaze flicked to him, laughter dancing in her eyes.
“Yeah,” she murmured. “He’s one of them.” Plans were hatched, and when she looked at him, he nodded—a trip to meet her aunt already taking shape. “You’ll love them both.”
Sunlight painted fire across her hair. Brawler reached for her hand. No missions, no ghosts, no storms, just the simple, breathtaking work of living. Together.
In the weeks that followed, Emily hadn’t just changed his life. She’d changed Toby’s too. She coaxed him into giving Toby more freedom than he’d ever thought possible. Most of it came down to the fact that Uncle Ray was gone, arrested for fraud, and this time he was going away for a long stretch. Without that shadow hanging over his brother, the old fear eased, and Emily pressed her advantage. She convinced him to let Toby take a job at the university’s statistics department, where they adored him, and Toby thrived in ways that lit him up from the inside.
She’d urged him to let Toby climb, first indoors at the gym, then outside in the hills of Virginia. She’d been right. Toby could do it. He had the strength, the determination. Brawler had watched him crank out pull-ups, match his running stride for stride, flip tires like they were donuts. All because his big brother was a Navy SEAL, and Toby wanted to honor him.
He caved. Of course he did. Emily’s joy, Toby’s joy…it became his own.
They watched Disney movies together. They argued about which characters were the best. They laughed until their sides hurt. Emily fit into his life like she’d been there all along, and he had no idea his capacity to love could run so deep. But then, he should have known. It had always been there, proven out in Beast, in his brothers, in Toby.
The best yet wasn’t even about him. It was about Emily.
She had finished her dissertation, God help him, she’d done it, and even with the sections the State Department had forced under wraps, it was published to acclaim. She’d been asked to present at the International Big Cat Conference, standing in front of the sharpest minds in carnivore research, her name finally etched where it belonged.
Then came the wildfire. The footage she had captured of Sombra and her cubs, stitched into a documentary with her voice guiding it, blew the doors off Amazon. Critics called it groundbreaking. Viewers couldn’t get enough. Then the giant came knocking, offering her a show of her own.
He’d never forget the way she laughed until she cried, telling him and Toby, Beast dancing circles around her like he understood. She was radiant, alive in a way that made his chest ache. She’d chased jaguars through jungles, fought through loss and fear, carried guilt like it was stitched into her skin, and now the world finally saw her for who she was.
It wasn’t just a career. It was her calling, and it was hers.
When she traveled, when he deployed, Toby would still be covered. Hank had promised him that, sworn it, and Brawler trusted him with his brother’s life. Toby would still have his chess matches, his structure, his laughter, his cinnamon rolls. That safety net let him breathe easier, let him picture Emily chasing her future without a knot strangling his chest.
One night, in the quiet of their bedroom, he pulled her close.
“Emily, I need to let you know we’re going to be spinning up. I don’t know when, but it’s coming. I can feel the pressure.”
She cupped his jaw, her green eyes soft and steady. “I know you have to do what you have to do. But keep me tucked inside that big heart of yours, and before you go, I’ll teach you how to make a snare.”
He laughed softly, brushing his lips against her hair. “You are so bad,” he whispered.
She kissed him sweetly. “You love it, babe.”
Reaching beneath his pillow, he drew out a small velvet box. Emily sat bolt upright, her eyes wide. “Yes.”
He chuckled. “I haven’t even asked you yet.”
She grabbed his shoulders, bouncing with excitement. “Well, get to it, jumbo.”
