Page 92 of Oathbreaker

“Turn around, kiddo.”

“You have to put your pants on again?!” She whirls, hands on her hips, muttering under her breath, and I manage not to laugh as I grab my sweats and Briar reaches for a robe. “Mommy, do we have time to cuddle?”

“Not today.” Briar’s tone is gruff, unlike her.

“Go into the kitchen and decide what you want for breakfast, Frankie,” I say gently. “We’ll be right out.”

“Fine.” Frankie glances back over her shoulder, narrows in on me—like the fact that there’s no time to cuddle is somehow my fault—and then disappears out the door and down the hallway, her feet making little pitter-patter sounds until they fade away.

“Good morning, beautiful.” I follow Briar into the bathroom.

“Morning.” She doesn’t turn around but leans her back against my front, allowing me to slide an arm around her waist, press kisses along the side of her neck.

“You okay?”

“Mm hm.” Then she busies herself at the sink, reaching for her toothbrush. A gentle but poignant dismissal. Since my stuff isn’t in her bathroom, and I need to clean up too, I simply kiss her and smile.

“I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

“Okay.”

I take care of business in record time, but Briar still beats me to the kitchen, looking pretty damn refreshed and awake for someone who was up half the night cuddling and whispering with me.

Frankie’s up on her stool, helping Briar unload and put away everything from the dishwasher, and I stand there watching for a moment. Taking it all in.

Fuck, this was supposed to be my life while I was rotting away in that damn prison.

My beautiful girls, including the one I didn’t know existed until a month ago.

I never imagined a life as incredible as the one I’m currently living. It’s so much better than anything I wrote in my letters to Briar or the fantasies that kept me alive while I was imprisoned.

There is no national pride or call to serve that’s stronger than what I feel watching my girls together, here in…our house. Realistically, I’m still a guest, but I’m doing everything in my power to change that. To become a staple in both their lives.

I don’t know what I’m going to do for money going forward—the amount I made the last five years is hefty—but I’m only thirty-one. I can’t support a family, put a kid or two through college, and have enough to retire with what I have. Which means finding a job.

All I know is it won’t be as a spy.

I am never leaving my girls again.

Except one of my girls is uneasy this morning. Posture rigid, movements jerky, interactions with Frankie short and terse.

Something is bothering her, and I’m not going to let whatever it is fester. If I did something wrong, or pushed her too far, I need to know. Find a way to fix it.

“Frankie, would you run to my room and find my brown socks?”

I don’t own a pair of brown socks.

“Okay!” She takes off like a shot, and I feel a moment of guilt for duping her, but she’ll find regular socks in five seconds, and I need more than that to talk to Briar.

“Babe.” I still the movement of her arms, holding them gently with my hands. “Look at me.”

She freezes, but then turns slowly.

“What’s wrong?” I ask quietly. “Did I do something you didn’t want me to do last night?”

Eyes wide, she continues to stare at me for a beat. “We didn’t use…protection.”

“We didn’t…” I pause in confusion. “You’re not on anything?”