Liam leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, the darkness pulling at him as he stared at a bizarre blue pattern of dense carpet at the Harry Reid International Airport.
Every muscle screamed at him to turn around, drive back to that sterile hospital room where machines kept track of whether Nimue lived or died.
But his boots stayed planted on the cold tile.
Airport activity swirled around him—suitcase wheels rattling like machine-gun fire, gate announcements crackling overhead, a thousand conversations blending into white noise. The smell of grease from the overpriced burger joint turned his stomach.
Run.The thought whispered through his skull.Hop on a plane. Any plane. It worked before, after Christiana…
He assumed that Logan and Luke would get to the gate before him, but security was a nightmare. Luckily he still had TSA PreCheck from when he’d been traveling the world.
He got up, restless, and wandered over to a nearby novelty shop he’d spotted earlier. Those colored pencils in the window—ridiculously overpriced, probably made in some factoryoverseas. But he couldn’t look away. Her art was amazing in shades of gray, but it could be stunning in color.
We nearly lost her.
The doctor’s words played on repeat, a broken record of his worst nightmare. The doctor said she was stable, but he knew better than most that could change on a dime. Missed bleed. Blood clot. Infection.
Liam’s hands shook as he fumbled for his wallet, buying pencils for a woman who might never?—
Stop.
He made the purchase, then walked back over to the chairs by the gate and sat again, staring at the pencils.
Worn sneakers appeared in his peripheral vision. A duffel bag hit the carpet with a muffled thud. Liam glanced up and?—
Logan.
His twin stood there like he’d materialized out of thin air, faded baseball cap pulled low, those steady blue eyes that matched his own taking in everything. No words needed.
Liam stood and Logan’s arms wrapped around him, solid and warm and real.
The hug lasted exactly long enough to crack something loose in Liam’s chest.
Luke stood just behind Logan, giving him a sad, solid look.
When Logan finally released him from the hug, Luke stepped up and squeezed his shoulder. “You okay?”
When Liam didn’t answer, Logan glanced at Liam’s ticket. “So, you really going to Denver?”
“What took you so long?”
“We don’t have TSA PreCheck or a Global Entry pass,” Logan said as he sat down.
Luke sat on the other side of Liam.
And then they said nothing, just waiting.
Fine. Okay…He swallowed. And then everything poured out.
He started at the beginning. Way back at the beginning, with Christiana’s scream echoing off Swiss peaks. Then meeting Nimue, and the Bratva. Nimue’s injury, and even the four mil that she owed the mob.
He ended with the terrible truth that he’d left her.
“Yeah, so…go back. Why are you here instead of with her?” Logan’s question hit like a slap. Direct. No sugarcoating.
“I can’t.” Liam’s voice cracked. “If I lose her…” Liam’s voice faltered, his fingers gripping the edge of his seat, the metal cool under his hands.
“I know it feels like too much.” Luke’s voice was steady, his hands clasped loosely in front of him. “But you can trust God to be there and?—”