by Addison Jane
I snort. “By that you mean you couldn’t run the whole way if you tried so you’ll need to take a lot of breaks,” I mutter, jogging on the spot.
He points at me, and for a second I think he’s going to argue with me again, but his face finally cracks and he grins. “Correct.”
We start off slow, and I enjoy the way my muscles gradually begin to warm up, heat moving through my body, my blood pumping at a steady pace and keeping me moving. Not that I’d ever tell Luca, but running isn’t exactly my strongest point either, but I still really enjoy it, especially running outdoors in amazing places like this.
The Washington Monument passes by first, standing tall and proud. I follow Luca’s lead until we get to the World War Two Memorial where we both seem to stop for a moment and appreciate just how beautiful it is.
I’ve been here a million times, and I swear it never gets old. Every single time is just as mesmerizing as the last, stealing my breath. Pride in your country is a strange thing to try and explain, I’m sure most people understand it, but it’s a feeling that you aren’t really able to put into words.
It's one of the reasons I chose to follow in my father’s footsteps, and it’s one of the reasons that despite how Luca’s smart mouth annoys me and drives me a little crazy, that I respect the hell out of him for what he does.
The SO7 risk their lives, sometimes on a daily basis. Yet, they’re never thanked, not publicly at least.
“Do you ever wish that you guys were more acknowledged?” I ask as we wander aimlessly, the water of the fountains and birds chirping filling the still morning air. The names of the states pass by, and I notice that Luca doesn’t respond until he’s read every single one.
He shakes his head. “I was in the army before someone from The Agency came and offered me a position within the SO7. Sure, it’s nice to have people tell you that they appreciate you, that you’re a hero, but I don’t believe that’s the reason anyone joins the armed forces,” he explains as we start back on the track, happy for a moment to just walk and enjoy our surroundings. “We do it because it’s important to us because we love our country and we believe in being a voice for those who can’t speak.”
His words instantly make me smile. His honesty and the way he speaks with such pride in what he’s doing, tell me a lot about the Luca that he keeps hidden, or at least close to his heart.
“That’s so very true,” I agree, bumping against him playfully. “My dad risked his life every single day for our country, willing to give it all up to protect people he didn’t even know, and in the end, it was cancer that caused his downfall.”
Luca nods. “That’s exactly it. We could die tomorrow, be hit by a bus, attacked by killer bees. I saw this one thing where someone got caught in a gorge and run down by a stampede of wilder beast. If that’s the case, I’m determined to spend my time on earth making an impact.”
Luca picks up his pace, falling into a jog ahead of me. I can’t hold my laughter. “I’m pretty sure that was Mufasa,” I call after him, pumping my legs to catch up.
He manages to keep ahead of me until we reach the Lincoln Memorial, but while he’s used all his energy trying to show off and battle to stay in front, I’ve managed to keep a pretty steady speed and while he’s struggling to climb the stairs, I easily bound past him.
When I reach the top, I turn, grinning down at him as he battles with each step.
When he’s just a few away, I start to bounce back and forth on my toes, imitating Rocky and throwing short, sharp jabs into the air in front of me before holding up my hands in victory.
“Calm down Balboa,” Luca wheezes as he throws himself onto the ground at the top.
I sit down beside him, looking up and taking in the view as the sun sparkles across the Reflecting Pool below. “It looks like diamonds,” I whisper, taken back by the glassy surface, not one ripple or imperfection.
“It’s pretty awesome right?” Luca agrees, finally pulling his body into a sitting position, his cheeks red and flushed.
We sit in silence for a long time, but it’s not awkward, it’s actually kind of nice to just stop and take in the beauty of what’s around us for a few minutes, and I find I’m actually kind of glad that it’s Luca sitting here appreciating it with me.
Every day that we spend together, I’m learning something new about him and sharing something new about myself. He continues to surprise me and never fails to make me laugh.
Luca pushes to his feet, tugging off his shirt and using it to wipe his brow before tucking it into the back of his running shorts. I can’t help but lick my lips and admire the way his body glistens in the light, the both of us with sweat coating our skin.
His body is perfect, and it will never get old seeing him without a shirt, the ridges and cut of his muscles are screaming to have my fingers run across them.
“You can stop drooling now,” he teases, pulling me away from my daydream. I stand quickly, looking away and starting down the steps. He laughs loudly and calls after me as he tries to catch up. “It’s okay really. A body like mine is meant to be appreciated.”
Just like that, the Luca that I want to kick in the balls is back.
And I can’t help but smile to myself because I kinda love it.
I step out of the car and look up at the stunning home standing before me. It’s pristine and new, the gardens beautifully and professionally manicured, the colors and feel of it filled with warmth. Honestly, I can’t believe what I’m seeing, imagining my mom, the woman who raised me living in such an upmarket, upper-class lifestyle. I guess it was probably just another role she played to get what she wanted or to where she wanted to be.
She’s done really well for herself.
Well, she had done really well for herself… now she’s dead.
I feel a small amount of jealousy, that green-eyed monster creeping up the back of my spine and wrapping itself around my brain. She lived this life, like some perfect rags to riches fairy tale, never really feeling the karma that she should have or the impact of her actions.
But I guess the fact that she’s dead now—well, maybe the proof’s in the pudding.
I grit my teeth and walk up the stone pathway, my feet thumping so hard I can feel the jolt in my teeth as I stomp toward the lavish front porch. I’m ready for a fight, I can feel it bubbling up inside me as I think about meeting this guy, Dean, who gave my mom all of this. The man who gave her a castle when she didn’t even deserve a dog house.
Climbing the front steps, my eyes take in the lack of security around the house. There’s not even a front gate or anything to deter burglars. I snort under my breath. “Dean needs to step his game up,” I mutter in distaste, as I raise my hand and pound harshly on the front door.
It’s only a few seconds I have to wait while tapping my foot before the door swings open. My eyes move from the floor to scanning the man standing in front of me. The shiny shoes, the dark suit pants—they all give me a bad taste in my mouth, and I screw up my nose. Although as I move up further, I’m a little more confused.
Dean’s wearing a baby blue button up shirt, but it’s untucked haphazardly and just hanging loosely around his waist. There’s a coffee stain on one of the cuffs, and he’s holding a beer in his hand. When I finally risk my eyes settling on his face, I notice just how tall he is, how strong and sturdy his body is, like he must work out almost as much as I do because his chest is huge.
I’m stunned for a few seconds, my brain unable to process what I’m seeing. I wasn’t expecting to see a man like this, someone so put together, someone who looked like your typical everyday businessman.
With my mom’s rap sheet, I was expecting some useless druggie, maybe even a pimp—I honestly wouldn’t have been surprised. But this? It’s thrown me for a loop.
It’s so… normal.
“Luca…” Dean says in surprise, but a kind smile grows on his face, one that I instantly want to punch off. I’m even surprised that he knows who I am. I wanted him so badly
to be an asshole, so I knew she’d never changed, but it’s hard to be mad at a guy who seems so genuinely happy to see me.
I shake off the way he says my name. Instead, deciding to lead with anger, even if it’s directed at my mom and not him. I narrow my eyes and point my finger at Dean’s chest. “Get your lawyer to stop fucking calling me,” I snap, poking him harshly to reinforce my point.
Dean doesn’t move at all in my attempt to push him. Instead, he looks me directly in the eyes and sighs, his body sagging. “Luca, we’ve all been through a lot. Come inside so we can talk about it.”
“I don’t want to come inside your fancy-ass house,” I hiss, folding my arms across my chest like a spoiled brat trying to get their way.
Dean nods like he understands, his face still not shocked by my sharp tongue. “Okay, whatever makes you comfortable. I want you to know we’re here for you too. We can talk right here—”
“Maybe we should talk inside,” I cut in before pushing forward and shoving past Dean to stand in the large foyer. I know I’m a stubborn asshole, but when someone tells me what to do it makes me determined to do the exact opposite. My head is all messed up about my mom—his wife—and with Dean being so openly nice to me it’s making me feel uncomfortable and strange.
This isn’t what I was expecting, and it’s not what I’d prepared myself for.
Dean closes the front door and gestures to the living room. I nod at him to lead the way, my eyes curiously scanning the house for clues or hints. Of what? I’m really not that sure. Do I want to know more about her and this life she lived? Do I want to see pictures of her? What she looked like? Whether she was different than I remembered?
Should I really be torturing myself?
“Please, sit,” Dean requests, but I shake my head sharply and continue to stand behind a large old leather sofa, my sweaty hands delighted when I place them on the cool material. I shift from foot to foot, not knowing what to say or why I even agreed to come inside when all I’d planned to do was to yell at him and walk away.
“How are you holding up?” Dean asks as he takes a seat himself.
I narrow my eyes at him, assessing him. He’s slightly taller than me. His hair is mostly dark but streaked with grays that annoyingly not only makes him look smarter but more distinguished. His body’s solid, like he could give any member of my team a run for their money with strength.
I look away when I answer. “Why do you care?” My voice is soft, not harsh like it was a few moments ago, as I breathe in the air of the room, the slightly lavender smell that seems to float all around me.
This was her home, the place where she made a new life for herself, where she chose to become someone else.
It’s so different to where I grew up. We were always in small apartments with no hot water or heating, broken windows, and barely enough food to get by. But we always did. Somehow.
“Because we are family,” Dean says, like the answer to my question was obvious. Only it wasn’t, at least not to me. He speaks with a gentleness that’s almost aggravating like he’s talking to a small child.
I’m not a fucking child. I’m a man and have been for a long time.
I had to be, I had to grow up quickly. There was no chance for me to be a child.
“I’m nothing to you, and I sure as hell was nothing to her,” I growl with venom, my voice rising steadily. “She didn’t give a shit. She abandoned me. Left me when I needed her the most. Do you know how it feels to know that the one person who should love you unconditionally, who literally grew you inside of their body and gave you life, doesn’t give a flying fuc—”
I pause when a small movement catches in the corner of my eye, and I look over, seeing two sets of eyes staring at me from behind the door that leads to another room. My mouth goes instantly dry and a lump forms in my throat. A young boy and a little girl. The boy has his hands over her ears, no doubt trying to protect her from the harsh words that are spewing from my mouth.
Dean looks over, takes a deep breath as he uses his hand to wave them into the room. The little girl, her hair a wild crazy mess of curls as she bounces confidently into the room and takes a flying leap at her father’s lap. He catches her with ease, the little boy following in after, a little more wary, scowling at me the same way I would when men would yell at my mom.
It’s like looking at the past.
The girl stares at me with wide eyes, no doubt much like the way I’m looking back at her, with shock and surprise as I start to realize I’ve just become that same person that I was afraid of all those years ago. The men that would show up at our home and yell and scream at my mom, without the violence. But for all these kids knew, that could be coming.
I hate I can see the fear in their eyes, and instantly take a step around the couch and crouch down to a less intimidating position.
“This is Carter and Zoe,” Dean introduces with a gentle smile before turning his attention to the kids, placing one hand on each of theirs. “Kids, this is Luca. You remember how we talked about Mommy having another baby a long time ago. This is your brother.”
I struggle to breathe, I want to tell this man to leave me the hell alone, that I want nothing to do with her—past or present. But seeing these two very real children is a harsh truth, reminding me that it’s not just money that she’s left behind. She’s left a family, a brother and a sister who carry my DNA, two kids that I instantly feel protective of.
Zoe looks at me with bright, innocent eyes, still saying nothing but absorbing the information and atmosphere that’s in the room.
Carter, on the other hand, is not so happy just soaking up the love. “He’s kind of a dick,” the small version of myself says, screwing up his nose like he’s just licked a lemon. He holds his chin high and moves closer to his dad.
Yup, there’s no doubt in my mind that this kid and I are related. Insult the person, then step closer to the person who’s going to protect you from them. For me, though, that person is usually Kace.
Dean shoots him a warning glare with narrowed eyes while Zoe perks up a little, her face lighting up with a smile. Her cheeks are chubby and pink, and her eyes while a stunning shade of blue, look red and bloodshot from excessive crying.
My stomach sinks.
These kids have just lost their mom. A mom that they loved and adored who may not have been there for me, but was obviously there for them.
It’s like I’ve stepped into this alternative reality, with a mother who cared, and a sister who’s still alive. That thought suddenly makes me feel like I want to vomit. My stomach churning as I feel the weight of that reality pushing down on me, suffocating me. “I can’t do this,” I mumble, standing far too fast and stumbling to find my feet.
Dean places Zoe on the floor and comes forward with a worried look in his eyes, holding out his hands as if he might need to catch me. My skin is hot, like a flush starting at the bottom of my neck and moving like the waves of a hurricane up over my face.
Dean takes hold of my elbow, and I notice Carter take his little sister’s hand and pull her away, sheltering her, protecting her from anything that might happen. Dean steadies me, and for a moment it feels good to let him be there to catch me, and not have to catch myself.
I don’t let myself relish in it, though, snatching my arm away as I head for the front door. There’s a haze moving through my head, my brain trying to protect itself from the memories that are threatening to resurface.
“Luca, it’s okay. Just sit and take a breath,” Dean tries as he follows me to the door, his hands raised like he’s surrendering, or like a hostage negotiator trying to reason with some crazy person.
I am that crazy person.
“Hell, no. I’m out. I gotta go,” I tell him in a rush, finally managing to grasp the door handle and yank it open. I duck outside and reach for it again, pulling it shut behind me so Dean won’t follow. But just before I do, I hear a sweet little voice, one that makes me freeze and reconsider going back inside.
“Why is he leaving?” Zoe asks before the door slams shut and I’m left standing on the porch, wondering what the hell just happened.
My stomach churns when I remember thinking the exact same thing when my mom walked away.
And now I’m doing the same shit to them.
Jesus Christ, maybe I’m more like her than I thought.
The door swings open and our eyes connect, and suddenly, it’s as though I can breathe again.
I have no idea what made me come here, but the urge was so powerful I couldn’t fight it, and soon I found myself sitting in her driveway.
“Luca?” Everly asks in confusion, looking around behind me as if expecting to see the whole team arriving. But I’m completely alone. “What are you doing here?”
I don’t speak, I don’t even know if I can. I want to tell her why I’m here, but words seem so pointless, so unworthy after the emotions I’ve felt today. Pain and confusion mixed with anger and resentment—I’m a fucking ball of crazy just waiting to explode. If I start talking now, I know I’m going to lose my shit. If I try and explain to Everly what led me to her doorstep, she’ll probably end up with me sitting here, sobbing my heart out, unable to even form a sentence.
That’s how fucking confused I am right now.
So no, I don’t want to speak. I don’t want to say a single fucking word.
So, I do the only thing I can think of.
I step forward and grab her face in my hands, her cheeks are already rosy and flushed, but feel soft as fucking silk in my palms. She opens her mouth to question me, but I slam my lips down onto hers and swallow every protest that threatens to come out of her mouth. She’s frozen in shock for a few moments, but once her mouth starts moving with mine, I fall into a place of comfort and bliss, a place where there’s only her and me.
Everly’s strong, she has a smart mouth, and with me she isn’t afraid to use it. It fucking turns me on like nobody’s business. But what really gets me, is how motivated and passionate she is about learning and being a part of The Agency. She wants to be there, and she isn’t afraid to work her damn ass off to get what she wants. She’s sexy as hell and when she throws a punch, damn.
