Heat surges into my cheeks. Dear Lord, how could I have blocked them all out? I hear a snicker from across the aisle—Denielle—and I bury my face in Rhys's shoulder.
He's shaking underneath me with silent laughter. After all these years, I still can't get enough of this guy.
"We'll make sure to get some alone time later," he says in a low tone, full of promise, and the heat spreads to other parts of my body as well.
Joel's voice comes over the intercom for everyone to take their seats, and I reluctantly move back to mine and buckle in. Across from me, Rhys is adjusting his pants and throws me an accusatory glare when he catches me watching. I shrug, and his eyes crinkle.
"Tonight," he mouths.
Two large SUVswait for us in the hangar, and I spot George instantly. He leans against one of the vehicles but pushes off as soon as we step off the jet.
Initially, he was supposed to accompany us on the flight since it was Marcus's week off as well. Then, last Friday, he called, saying he'd be staying at the vineyard with my brother, and Marcus would be in charge during the travel. Something was off, and my mind immediately started coming up with all kinds of scenarios in which Nate was not okay. But when I asked, George kept assuring me that Nate was fine. That man was, and still is, a closed vault. If he doesn't want to talk about something, there is no way to get it out of him. My shadow was kept in the dark as well. He has never kept anything from me, no matter how bad the news was—and there have been many instances over the years. The media is ruthless.
Marcus has become like a second big brother and one of Rhys's closest friends. Even when he isn't on duty, he always hangs around. Marcus is also George's second in command when it comes to our security, which made me worry even more that he had no clue what was going on.
"Lilly." A huge smile turns George's mouth upward, and some of the tension leaves me. If it were something serious, I have to believe he'd tell me—warn me. Nate is fine. Everything will be okay.
I hug the man who's become an integral part of my family. "Hi, George."
"G-man." Rhys comes around me and gives him one of his usual clasp-hands-side-shoulder-man-hugs.
Oh, how things have changed.
"How was the flight?" George looks over my shoulder where Heather is carefully maneuvering down the stairs.
"Great, slept almost the entire time." Rhys puffs up his chest.
George's grin turns wider, and I snort.
"I don’t need your help." Den's growl echoes through the hangar, and I sigh before turning around. My best friend and Marcus are standing on the top step, and she's tugging ferociously on the handle of her suitcase he is attempting to carry for her.
"Dude, just let go. It’s not worth the tongue lashing she’ll give you if you take Louis away from her," Wes shouts from the back door of the second SUV where he’s waiting for his turn to climb in.
"Fuck off, Sheats!" Denielle barks at him, but Wes only grins wider and blows her a kiss.
"Fine. Whatever. I’m done," Marcus snaps before disappearing back inside the airplane.
Rhys bursts into laughter, and even George can't hold back a chuckle. I shake my head and stroll over to Heather. This week will be interesting.
We pileinto the two cars. George is driving ours with Rhys in the passenger seat, Den and me in the middle, and Heather in the third row. Tristen and the rest went into the other SUV.
"Henry called right before we took off," Heather announces, and I turn in my seat.
"He did? Is everything okay?" I had spoken to him just this morning, and the jet is going to pick him up two days from now. He isn’t able to make it earlier due to his current project.
After his recovery, Henry moved to Virginia, and Tristen helped him get an architect position with a well-known builder in the city. Whenever Rhys and I visited, I would make sure to spend a few days at Henry’s as well, and over the years, we’ve been able to grow our relationship.
Besides the few migraine memories of Henry, I never remembered anything else prior to being six years old. But between him, Heather, and Tristen—their stories, as well as all the photos—I could picture it. That was how I wanted to remember my childhood, and not once have I regretted my decision to not meet with Hector Lakatos to let him try restoring it.
"Everything is fine. He was just asking if he should bring any of the travel toys you left at his house last month," Heather explains.
Oh.
I sigh in relief. The anxiety that instantly shot through me disappears, and I glance down at the middle seat where George expertly strapped in the baby carrier. My heart skips a beat. In just two days, this little one will be one year old. She rubs her eyes and slowly blinks them open.
"Good morning, sleepyhead. Did you have a good nap?" I coo at her, caressing her cheek with the tip of my index finger.
Her big green eyes slowly take in her surroundings, and Rhys twists in his seat.