Page 190 of The Long Way Home

“Because he’s a fuckwit,” Declan says, not looking away from the TV.

I glance back at Julian, whose face pinches a bit. “Conflict of interests. We’ve had our fair share of run-ins.” He gives me a shrug.

“He doesn’t like you?” I blink.

“Doesn’t like what I do.” He shrugs indifferently.

“Arms dealing?” I clarify.

Declan’s face flickers in the background, amused.

“Yeah.” Julian licks his top lip. “Amongst other things.”

I frown thinking about it. He’s impossible not to like, and I know there’s more to it than that, but I shouldn’t like to think about it all that much, the nuances of what he’s not saying and what I think it means.

The truth is, Julian is so clever and so charming in that awful Hemsworth kind of way where you don’t dislike him for being beautiful and charismatic, you actually like him more for some reason.

“That copper’s had a death wish since the day he landed on this doorstep,” Declan tells neither of us in particular.

Julian glances at him for a few seconds and then says nothing, which makes me feel a tiny bit nervous. His face turns to brooding as his sister’s sadness weighs heavily on him and I start feeling like I’d like to make it lighter for him.

“So Daisy’s upset then?”

“Mmhm.” He nods, staring at my mouth as he fiddles with my hair between his fingers. I don’t know if he knows he’s doing it.

I sit up straight. “I’m going to fix it.”

He shakes his head sternly. “No.”

“No, no. I’m good at it.” I nod.

He tilts his head and considers this, but the face he makes doesn’t imply that he has all that much confidence in me.

“I am,” I insist.

“I feel like you aren’t.”

“Well, I’m very subtle.”

He squints at me. “Who’s been lying to you?”

I pout at him.

“You are polite,” he lists off on his fingers. “You are smart. You are the hottest girl I’ve ever seen. You’re getting there in bed—”

(“—Thank you?” I tilt my head, frowning a bit. “You’re welcome.” He smirks.)

“But Tiges—” He pinches my chin between his thumb and his index finger. “About as subtle as a brick in the face, you are.”

My frown hits rock sulky bottom and he kisses me how he’d never do if we weren’t behind closed doors and six layers of security.

I glare over at him playfully and then jump up. “Well, anyway, you’re wrong. I’m going to fix it—”

His head rolls back. “Please don’t.”

“Let her be,” Declan says from the couch, still not looking away from the TV.

“Yes!” I nod. “Thank you, Decks.”

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