Page 41 of Undercover Shadow
“I slept with her.” The confession scraped out. “Multiple times. Then I told her it couldn’t continue once we left.”
“Jesus, Tag.”
“I know.”
“Do you?” Con stood, pacing to the window. “Because from where I’m standing, you’re making this worse for both of you.”
“I ended it before?—”
“Before what? Before you could be happy?” He spun around. “Your parents’ marriage wasn’t everyone’s fate. Mine weren’t much better. But they never loved each other, Tag. Yours did—at first. Then they gave up and turned vicious.”
“They destroyed each other. I’m protecting her?—”
“From what? From having someone who actually loves her?” His laugh was bitter. “You and Nightingale have fought alongside each other for three years. She’s proven herself in ways most operatives never will. She’s not some society girl who’ll run at first trouble.”
Like my mother had been.
“She deserves better than?—”
“Than someone who loves her enough to be terrified of losing her? That’s everyone worth having, you idiot. The thought of losing Lex scares the hell out of me—” He stopped and regrouped. “But I’d rather have that fear than live without her.”
I had no response to that.
“You’re so terrified of becoming them, you’re creating a different destruction. One where you’re both miserable but you get to pretend it’s noble.”
“At least she can find happiness with someone else.”
“You’ll be okay with it if she finds solace with another man?”
“She’ll get over me.”
“Will she? Or will she spend the rest of her life settling for men who don’t make her feel what you do? Men who are safe because they don’t matter?”
I looked away. Out the window, toward the loch, where the afternoon light caught the water that was as peaceful as it was deceptive.
“You don’t want to turn into your parents? Then, do things differently. Don’t give up. Especially on her.”
“I can’t give her what she needs.”
“You mean you won’t. There’s a difference.”
The distinctive thrum of helicopter rotors cut through the air. We both turned toward the window.
“That’ll be Vanguard and Prima.” Con stood and walked to the door, then paused. “Lex asked me once if I thought love was worth the risk. I said yes. Because the alternative—living withouther—that’s not living at all.” His hand hit the doorframe. “You’re not living either, mate. You’re just surviving. And dragging Nightingale down with you.”
After the door closed behind him, I sat alone with the bottle and the truth I couldn’t face.
Con was wrong. He had to be. Because if he wasn’t—if I was destroying us both for nothing—then every wall I’d built, every promise I’d made to myself, every reason I’d pushed her away meant nothing.
I stood at the window, watching as the chopper’s rotors slowed and two figures emerged.
“They’re here,” Renegade said from the doorway as I poured one last round in my glass. “Should I let everyone know it’s okay to come back in?”
“Sure.”
The study filled quickly—Con and Lex took their previous seats, as did Ash and Sullivan. Gus claimed the window seat while Renegade and Archon flanked the door like sentries. Nightingale entered last, choosing the seat farthest from me.
Our eyes met for half a second, showing heat and hurt in equal measure. Then she looked away.
