Page 93 of Oathbreaker

Flare of irritation. “I never had any reason to be on anything.”

“You and West weren’t using protection?” I ask in shock.

“Not that it’s any of your business,” she shoots back, “but West and I didn’t have sex. It never got that far. Not with him, not with anyone else.”

“You didn’t…” A million scenarios race through my mind but there’s something niggling at the edge of my psyche. An idea that—holy shit. Did she subconsciously wait for me despite believing I was dead? Did she…really do that?

Fuck, I love this woman.

“I haven’t been with anyone since you either,” I say quietly, so she understands she’s not alone in this.

“You haven’t…” She stares, blinking a few times, as if she’s finding it hard to believe.

“Well, there was a strict curfew during training and then it’s not like a Siberian prison is big on romance. At least, not for straight guys.”

“Oh.” Her expression softens, her eyes suddenly a little teary. “Colt.”

“Don’t cry, baby.” I brush a tear away with my thumb. “You know how I feel about you. I knew you were it for me, so as long as I was alive, there wasn’t going to be anyone else.” I shake my head in frustration. “Of course, you’d know that if you’d gotten the damn letters. I wrote to you every week while I was in training, telling you how I felt, making plans for us…I didn’t know they weren’t sending them. I’m so fucking pissed about that.”

“Do you still have them?” she asks after a moment.

“I do. They’re in a box somewhere back in D.C.”

“I’d like to read them sometime.”

“I can have someone send them.” I brush my knuckles along her cheek. “Don’t worry about anything, baby. I’ll take care of protection going forward, but no matter what happens, I’m not going anywhere. We’ll deal with anything and everything together. Because I love you too.”

For the first time today, her smile hits her eyes and she’s just leaning up for a kiss when Frankie storms back into the kitchen.

“Daddy! You don’t have any brown socks!”

“They must be in the laundry,” I reply solemnly. “Sorry about that. Did you bring me white ones?”

She proffers a pair of white—the only color I currently own—socks.

“Thanks, sweetie. Now you need to eat some breakfast.”

“Are you both taking me to school today?” She looks from me to her mother.

“Do you want us to?” I ask.

I’ve been trying to let her guide our progress as father and daughter, so she doesn’t feel pushed or uncomfortable. My sudden appearance in her life has to be jarring, so Briar suggested we let her decide when she’s ready to take the next step. Like her impulsively calling me Daddy yesterday.

That was one of the greatest moments of my entire fucking life.

And now?—

“You should come, Daddy. So you can meet my friends.” Her eyes sparkle with excitement.

Briar glances at me. “It’s a good idea for you to meet her teachers, learn the routine. I’ll put your name on the approved pick-up list while we’re there too. Otherwise, security is probably tighter than a Siberian prison.”

Her eyes twinkle—I’m so glad she’s comfortable enough to joke about what happened to me, because I refuse to let it impact my life going forward—and my chest squeezes with happiness.

I love everything about this. About them.

Ten years ago, the boys and I would have died laughing imagining a scenario like this. Me and the woman in my life taking our four-year-old to preschool. Together. Like it’s a two-person job.

But twenty-one-year-old me had no idea what this future was going to look like. And in a way, I’m glad. I wouldn’t have wanted to know how much I was going to love Briar because then I might not appreciate it as much as I do.