Farrow is next to him, the same way that Moffy is beside me. I walked past this morning and saw Donnelly pinching his watery eyes.
He was called here earlier to talk to the Tri-Force. They’re transferring him off Beckett’s detail. It wasn’t such a shock, really. Beckett learned about Donnelly’s deep-seated family history with drugs, and he didn’t want his bodyguard around cocaine. So he requested a transfer.
Everyone is trying to protect Donnelly, it seems. Oscar and Farrow were the ones to tell Beckett.
I take a breath in the quiet. Ophelia turns to Moffy, bumping her nose into his wrist. He scratches her, but looks at me. Deep empathy coursing through his green eyes.
He’s known longer than anyone that I’ve liked Thatcher. That I’ve been attracted to him. That I’ve slept with him, and he’s seen from the start where this could lead. And he’s been afraid for me. One-way roads. Not together. Different directions.
My lips are chapped and I lick the cuts forming on my bottom one. “I’ve been telling him that I don’t want him to quit security for me,” I whisper to Moffy. “And I don’t…but…at the same time, I do.” Tears well up in my eyes. “And I hate that part of me. That’d wish him to sacrifice anything to be with me.”
I rub at my eyes.
Moffy hugs me closer. “Sacrifice is a part of being in a relationship with people like us,” he says softly.
Sacrifice.
I hear Beckett’s voice.
Ophelia darts off at the sound of birds chirping outside. I rest my cheek to his shoulder. Tears spilling down my face.
Moffy looks pained, but he hugs tighter.
I rub snot on the sleeve of my blouse. “I’m just thinking about how he’s going to come back through those doors and everything will be different. I won’t even be able to touch his hand…” I take a sharp breath. “Or run my fingers through his hair.” My sleeve is sufficiently wet. “He has really good hair.”
I try to smile.
Moffy tries too. “I know. He’s got great hair.”
We both laugh. Me through my tears. Him through his reddened eyes.
In all of this, I’m glad I have him. And just as deeply, I’m so very glad Thatcher has Banks. We both won’t be alone. No matter what.
And yet…
My heart is still breaking.
46
THATCHER MORETTI
I’ve got my head on right. It’s what I know when I take a seat across from the Tri-Force. Price, Sinclair and Akara all lounge on security’s leather couch. Price has a tablet on his knee, Sinclair a notebook, and Akara, his phone.
I’ve pulled up a chair. Only the coffee table separating us.
Not long ago, I would’ve been sitting on the other side as a lead. I was their equal. I’m not intimidated by them. I’m not cowering or shrinking back.
But I understand that Price cuts the checks. All three of the leads have the same power, but make no mistake, this is his company. He built Triple Shield Services, the legal name for the security team as a whole, which everyone sees on their 1099. Keeping in good graces with Price was always a priority.
Each lead examines their notes. About to discuss further details concerning the breakup announcement. One of which is to use my family as a reason for fake animosity between me and Jane.
Banks told me, “A few headlines isn’t going to knock our family down. We’ve survived worse.”
I know we have.
My stringent posture stretches my muscles taut. Obedient, patient, and I sense more rules. More boundaries being reconstructed in solid brick.
All the walls I smashed down, that she smashed down, are being cemented back together. Right in front of me.
But there’s one thing I’ve realized in all of this:
I couldn’t compartmentalize Jane.
Not very well in the past, not at all in the present, and there’s no fucking way I’ll be able to in the future.
I’ve given up a lead position. I’ve lost my privacy. I’ve risked the safety of my family. All for her—and at the end of the fucking line, I can’t shove her in one box and walk away. I couldn’t then; I can’t now.
She is everywhere inside of me. And that’s where I want her to be.
I can see my grandma. Feel her loving hand on my face. Hear her soft, aching voice. Wishing with her whole soul for me to just be happy.
I inhale strongly.
“Before you all start,” I tell them. “I’d like to say something.”
Sinclair gives me a quick once-over. We’ve been on good terms, despite his grievances with a couple men on Omega. That’s about to change. He nods. “Go ahead.”
Sitting forward, I cup my hands. “I don’t want to waste your time,” I say as a professional courtesy. “So I’m not going to beat around this.”
Akara slips me a confused look, his brows crossing.
I expel a breath through my nose, and I address all three. “I’m not breaking up with Jane.”
Price frowns. “Pardon?”
“We want to be together, sir, and I understand that there may be a conflict of interest with me working for security. If that’s going to be a problem, I’m willing to give you my formal resignation today.”
They’re all stunned silent. Whiplashed. This is probably the last thing they expected to hear.
Akara keeps shaking his head. Shock and heat building in his gaze.
I’m sorry.
Fucking him over is one of the worst things I have to do. But I couldn’t warn him because he needs to wipe his hands clean of me. And even hate me. Maybe then he can try to maintain trust with Price and Sinclair.
“You both want to be together?” Sinclair repeats, like it doesn’t make sense.
“Yes, sir.” I’m more on edge, waiting to see where the shrapnel lands.
Price locks eyes with me. His fingers clenching his tablet tighter. But he’s not about to jump the table. They’re all leads for a reason. A cool, controlled temperament is a hallmark to being a good bodyguard.
“I’m going to ask you one question,” Price says, his voice even, despite the bite in his eyes. “And you better be fucking honest with me.”
I nod.
“Did you sleep with her?”
“Yes, sir.”
Sinclair lets out an aggravated laugh. Price shoots to his feet. I stand at the same time as Akara, who slashes his hurt, angered gaze at me.
“You and me, Thatcher,” he says harshly. “You and me—we’ve protected our men for years. That’s the way it’s been.”
Covering asses, cleaning messes. Good cop, bad cop. Him and me.
I nod.
“And you should’ve known better,” Akara says between gritted teeth. “You knew , more than anyone, what you’d fucking destroy.” His nose flares, pained.
SFO.
His men.
His responsibility.
Nothing I say will make a difference. But he deserves an apology. “I’m sorry,” I say from my core.
Akara shakes his head more, still fuming, still in disbelief.
Sinclair glowers. “This fake dating op wasn’t a gateway for you to stick your dick in her.”
I rake a hand across my mouth, acid in my throat, shifting tensely on my feet. Don’t charge. But I fucking hate how he’s talking about Jane.
“You took advantage of my trust in you,” Price states like a leader disappointed in his men. “And I should fire you right now. I honestly can’t stand to even look at your fucking face.”
That one cuts.
Only because I think of Banks.
How much shit is he going to get for this?
My jaw clenches, muscles flexed. Staying quiet. Opening my mouth isn’t going to help, and I can’t disagree with them. I did take advantage of the op. And of their trust in me to stay professional.
I screwed them.
Price runs two angered hands over his head. He blows out a breath and looks at Sinclair. “He needs to go.”
“He can’t,” Sinclair states. “We have that problem.”
My brows knit in confusion.
Price turns to Akara and asks him, “What are the chances that if we fire Thatcher, Banks will quit security?”