Page 78 of King of Pain (Damaged Hearts #1)

Sign Your Name

Anthony

Leaning back in my chair, my gaze drifts out the floor-to-ceiling windows of my office.

The sun’s starting to dip, casting a soft, warm glow over the city.

It’s late October—finally cooling off after what felt like a never-ending summer.

More people are out downtown and the energy’s a little brighter, a little lighter.

Now he teaches life skills using dance, graffiti, music and other talents these kids have. He helps them apply those abilities to set themselves up for careers in choreography, music production, art and computer programming.

Chance works with the graffiti taggers on a weekly basis. The smile he’s wearing when he comes home from spending time with them will always make my heart swell.

“Anything interesting?”

“Jesus!” I jerk so hard I nearly launch out of my chair, hand flying to my chest as I spin around. “You scared me.”

Jen stands there in the doorway, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “That was fun. Did you pee a little?”

I scowl. “You know, I liked it better when your office wasn’t down the hall. Back when you worked for another company and had to check in at reception.”

She snorts. “Let’s be real. I never checked in.”

“True.” I point at her. “I’m getting you a bell to wear around your ankle, so I know when you’re coming.”

Her eyes flash with mischief, and immediately I know my mistake—

“First of all,” she says, stepping inside, “putting it on my ankle won’t work. I’d just chew it off. If I can get my ankles behind my head, I can reach—”

“Okay!” I hold up a hand, groaning. “I get it.”

“Secondly... everyone knows when I’m coming.”

I drop my forehead to the desk with a thud. “Why am I friends with you?”

“Because she has great taste in music and she’d cut a bitch for either of us,” a smooth male voice cuts in.

I lift my head, already smiling. “Hey, Spence.”

Spencer strolls in, dressed sharp as ever, dark slacks, an open-collared shirt, not a hair out of place. He slides his hands into his pockets and leans against the edge of my desk.

I glance between the two of them, eyebrows raised. “Should I be concerned that both my legal counsel for the agency and for the non-profit are in my office after five o’clock on a Friday?”

Spence pulls a large manila envelope from behind his back, flashing a smug little grin. “Nothing to be concerned about,” he says, “but definitely something to be excited about.”

My eyes bounce between him and Jen, and I see Lexi stepping in just behind them.

My brows lift. “Is that—”

Jen beams. “Paperwork’s ready. Lexi and I are here to sign.”

I lean back in my chair, blowing out a long breath, running a hand down my face. “Oh fuck. Okay—” I jolt upright, reaching across my desk for my phone. “I need to find Chance—”

“Already here, baby.”

That voice. Warmth slides through me instantly. I look up—and there he is, leaning against my office door frame, arms folded, smolder dialed to eleven, one brow arched in amusement.

Just like that, the knot of nerves in my chest loosens.

My breath evens.

The world settles.

I smile, can’t help it. My man.

Six months.

It’s been six months since the exhibit… since my whole world changed.

Moving in with Chance.

Opening the agency. Launching the non-profit.

Jen—on Meg’s very persuasive urging—left her old firm and joined Pacini & Evers, now heading up our legal department. Her and Meg together are lethal. I feel for anyone stepping into a negotiation with those two.

Spence also left the firm he and Jen were at and now runs the day-to-day at the non-profit, including the Thrive initiative.

The man’s legal mind is invaluable, but more than that, his heart is in it.

He’sall-infor these kids. He’s shared bits and pieces of his childhood with me.

Things he endured. Things that drive him to make damn sure as many kids as we can help don’t have to endure the same.

Lexi designed the split office spaces beautifully, and word of mouth has spread so fast, she’s now designing homes for half our high-profile clients.

I still can’t quite wrap my head around how it all fell into place.

Well, I think with a small smile, the road here was a hell of a lot more complicated than “fell into place.”

But I never believed this could be my life.

Free of my past.

And, apart from therapy that I’ll always maintain, I am free of it.

Less than a month into the investigation into the fire at Foster Hall that sent those monsters to their eternal fate, the entire investigation was dropped. Closed.

“A horrific accident caused by faulty wiring.”

I knew The Doves had resources and connections, but… something kept nagging at me.

Detective Jimmy Gorski.

That name. Not common. I started digging. Yearbooks. Old records.

Caleb Gorski. My classmate.

Further digging showed he’d lost his battle last year. Couldn’t outrun the pain.

When I watched the press conference video, I saw the barely contained rage in Jimmy Gorski’s eyes…

Yeah. That told me everything I needed to know.

He buried this. Buried it with those monsters.

And for the first time since before Father Tommy ever laid a hand on me… I feel free.

Of course, Chance is still protective as hell. Deacon is still with us—on payroll now as official Head of Security for the agency. Every client’s security detail runs through him. Most of them just ask Deacon to assign someone, which works out best for all parties.

Except Jason. Jason keeps firing his assigned detail. Keeps asking for Deacon himself.

Chance is not thrilled about that one. He wants Deacon’s eyes on me when his can’t be.

But Jason’s big coming out is looming, and every threat assessment says we need to ramp up his security.

Meg’s floated the idea of six months with Deacon leading Jason’s detail personally, setting the framework, then he’ll hand pick a bodyguard and oversee Jason’s detail remotely. We’ll see.

I just know this—Chance and I have settled into a good life. A calm life. Headed toward a beautiful future. That’s more than I ever thought I’d get.

Two familiar, warm hands press to my knees, grounding me in the now.

My gaze snaps up.

A sea of electric blue meets my eyes, concerned and searching.

“You okay, Beautiful?” Chance asks, thumb now stroking softly on my cheek. “We don’t have to sign right this minute if you’re not ready.”

I shake my head, grab his wrist, and run my thumb along the inside of it. “No. I’m more than ready.” I glance past him to Jen, Lexi, and Spence. “I was just thinking how grateful I am. For all of this. For all of you.”

They smile, and Jen gives me a little wink.

I scoot up to my desk. Chance stands at my side, steady and solid.

I crack my knuckles and grin. “Let’s do this.”

Spence lays out all the documents on my desk with precise, practiced movements.

He’s sliding pens across to each of us when a voice practically explodes from the hallway.

“Am I late? Did I miss it?”

Spence’s eyes roll so hard I’m half-worried they’ll get stuck.

I glance up, startled, just in time to see Butters come barreling into my office, hair tousled, cheeks flushed.

I blink. “What are you doing here?”

Butters scoffs, planting both hands on my desk to catch his breath. “Gee, thanks, PacMan.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “Sorry, I’m glad you’re here for this. What I meant was—how did you know to be here?”

Spence huffs. “I texted him. I thought you might want him here, even if it’s a small part of the process.”

I glance over, about to thank him, when I catch the look on Butters’ face—beaming like Spence just gave him the greatest gift. “Heya, Spence.”

And I swear… Spence softens. Barely. “Ryan,” he says quietly.

Then lawyer mode is back on. Spence clears his throat, turning the documents toward us and pointing out each signature line. “Alright. Here. Here. And here. Everyone signs where I’ve flagged.”

The four of us get to work. Pens scratching. Lives changing.

Spence notarizes the stack and presses down the seal with a satisfying click . “Okay,” he says, straightening. “This part is done. You can move forward with plans.”

I stand, my chair rolling back slightly, and turn toward Chance. His eyes are already shining. I cradle his face in my hands, voice low and teasing:

“We’re gonna need a bigger boat.” I smirk. “But I want a gourmet kitchen.”

Chance laughs, tears sliding down his cheeks now. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t give you,” he whispers, leaning in until our foreheads press together.

From somewhere off to the side, Butters chokes out, “Aww, bros. You guys are goals. I want all—” he waves a hand vaguely at us “ that .”

I glance over—and catch Spence giving Butters alook. Intense. Butters swallows thickly, gaze locking stubbornly with Spence’s.

“Okay, well,” Spence says, voice choked, “I’m gonna go put these in my office—”

He starts to move, but Butters grabs his arm, firm. “No.”

Spence freezes, eyes going wide. “Let go of me, Ryan ,” he grits, teeth clenched.

Seriously, what is the deal with these two? I think to myself, not for the first time.

Between Butters’ pro football life and me managing two startups, we haven’t had a real chance to catch up. And after tonight’s signing, life is about to get alotmore hectic. Still, I need to be better about that.

Butters breaks into a grin. “We all need to go for a drink to celebrate.”

Then—still gripping Spence’s arm—he adds firmly, “And you’re coming with us.”

Spence’s shoulders go lax, defeated but… not unhappy. “Fine,” he mutters. Then corrects himself, softer. “I mean, yes. I would love to.”

I catch the subtle stroke of Butters’ thumb over Spencer’s bicep before he lets go.

So, Spence can be handled, I think, amused.

I pack up, then Chance and I join this found family of ours for a drink.