Tal Bauer

Henry’s eyes flash. “Is Sheridan going to need a wheelchair on Monday?”

Anatoly has stepped away and is speaking into his phone in Russian. I don’t know if he’s trying to get a snatch-and-grab team out to collect me or if he’s just talking to his wife. Anything is possible right now.

I know—I know—he will always find me.

“No…” He sniffs. His voice fractures. “Reese, I do love you. I’ve only ever been trying to protect you. And him.”

Instead of going to Langley, I want to pull out the ring I’ve been carrying with me for days.

We hold hands as we eat étouffée straight from the pan, sharing a spoon and feeding each other. We steal kisses on lips and fingertips, nuzzle each other’s necks and temples.

“You belong here,” he says.

I capture his lips in mine. “I do, mon cher. I belong with you.”

did Jack truly smell like a slice of Ethan’s heaven on earth?

He wanted everything. The American dream, the apple pie life. The morning after, and seeing Jack slowly wake up in his arms. His hair, mussed and standing on end. His lazy morning smile, sleepy in the sunshine. He wanted to hear Jack talk about politics and the world and how he was going to bring order to a chaotic, desperate, deadly planet. He wanted to rub Jack’s shoulders when he slouched, undo his tie at the end of the day, and bury his face in the crook of his neck, inhaling that damned pine scent, that perfect, heavenly pine scent Jack seemed to exude.

all I could think of was how much I wanted that to be you. I wanted you leaning in close to me, Ethan. I wanted to be solving the world’s problems with you.