Page 7

7

Will

T he train rattled over the tracks, the rhythmic clatter settling into something almost hypnotic. Outside, the night pressed against the glass, streaked with passing shadows of trees and distant station lights. The cabin was warm and reeked of the unmistakable staleness of train upholstery.

Thomas and Egret had drifted off not long after dinner, both curled into their respective corners of the compartment. Thomas, ever the efficient sleeper, had his arms crossed, head tilted against the window. He looked peaceful. It was unfair, really. I could never sleep while traveling, not in a car or on a plane—and definitely not on a rattly, bouncy train.

Egret, on the other hand, had sprawled across his seat in a way that suggested he had never once struggled with the concept of shame.

Which left just me and Sparrow staring out at the endless dark of Europe rolling past. She shifted beside me, her arms wrapped around her middle, her eyes reflecting the dim glow of the overhead lamp.

“How long do you think before Egret starts snoring?” I murmured.

She smirked, glancing away from the window. “Five minutes, give or take, but he’s a professional. He’ll make sure it’s as obnoxious as possible.”

“Naturally.” I nudged her shoulder with mine. “You’re quiet tonight.”

“Mm.” She exhaled, stretching her legs out under the small table in front of us. “It’s weird, that’s all. Seeing everyone together again. It feels like slipping into an old life, but the fit’s off somehow, y’know?”

“Yeah,” I agreed, tilting my head back against the seat. “Everything’s the same, but different.”

She hummed. We sat there for a long moment, just listening to the train, the steady hum of metal and movement. Egret did, indeed, begin snoring, his sudden gasping for breaths somehow mirroring the rhythmic clatter of the wheels on their tracks.

For a while, neither of us spoke.

Then—

“What about you?” she asked suddenly, her voice quiet but clear.

I blinked. “What about me?”

She turned her head toward me, watching me like she was trying to solve something.

“You and Thomas.”

I froze for half a second, then forced myself to relax, because of course she would ask. She was Sparrow. She noticed everything. Our relationship had likely been the worst kept secret among our team, despite us never speaking about it openly.

“What about me and Thomas?” I said, a teasing grin already working its way onto my face. “Are you asking if we had a whirlwind romance full of longing glances and barely contained passion?”

She rolled her eyes, but I could see the amusement flickering there, too.

“I mean, I know you’re together,” she said. “But I don’t think we’ve ever talked about it.”

“Because I’m a picture of restraint and subtlety.”

She snorted. “Yes, Calloway . You are the most subtle man I know.”

I grinned. “Glad you noticed.”

She nudged me, pressing. “Come on, tell me. What’s it like? You two have been doing this thing for a while now, right?”

I let out a breath, glancing at Thomas’s sleeping form. His face was calm, his brow smooth in a way it rarely was when he was awake.

It was almost painful, really, how much I loved him.

“Yeah,” I said. “A while.”

She didn’t say anything, just let the quiet stretch, let me find the words I wanted to say. I could feel her eyes on the back of my head as I watched Thomas sleep. Her smile snaked its way into my heart.

I sighed, sinking lower into my seat, tilting my head back.

“He’s—” I started, then stopped, huffing a laugh at myself. “God, he’s the best damn thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Her smile blossomed before me, soft and knowing.

“He drives me insane,” I continued, grinning to myself. “When we’re . . . working . . . he’s always thinking six moves ahead, always serious, always the one keeping me in line, but then we get home, and it’s just—”

I gestured, searching for the right words.

“It’s quiet,” I said. “It’s so good, Spa— Juliette .”

She grinned at my quick correction but didn’t interrupt.

I exhaled, staring at the ceiling.

“We live in shadows most of the time. Anyone like us has to,” I said, unsure how to even describe what we were. Society had very few words for us, few polite ones anyway. “Even when walking our own neighborhood, we’re hiding in plain sight, pretending, lying to everyone—but then we go home, and it’s just us. There are no more games, no masks, no pretending.”

I smiled, small but real.

“That’s what makes it worth it. The quiet moments together, just us.”

Sparrow studied me, something thoughtful in her gaze.

“So you’re in love with him.”

I snorted. “I’m so desperately, disastrously, hopelessly, pathetically in love with him that it eats my insides just to think of being apart . . . even for a moment. Hell, I can see him right now, but my hand wants to reach out and touch him, just to be closer, to feel his warmth. I’m so over the moon, it’s sad . . . or happy . . . or both. I don’t know anymore.”

She laughed, shaking her head.

“I mean, have you seen him?” I continued, unwilling to stop gushing once I’d started. “The man is a goddamn dream. He’s smart, sharp as hell, and he’s got this brooding thing going that should be annoying, but instead it’s just—” I sighed, pressing a hand to my heart in mock swoon. “Perfect.”

Sparrow covered her mouth to stifle her laughter, shaking her head.

“You’re so screwed,” she managed.

“And yet, here we are.”

She nudged me with her foot. “So, what? You two just lurk in the shadows, saving the world, then go home and make dinner together like some happily married couple?”

I grinned, my eyes glinting. “You joke, but yes. I make a mean risotto.”

She giggled, her shoulders shaking, before her expression sobered just a little.

“It doesn’t bother you?” she asked.

I blinked. “What doesn’t?”

Her lips pressed together for a second, as if choosing her words.

“That you have to hide it all the time. That the world won’t let you have the same thing as everyone else.”

My chest tightened, but I didn’t let it show. Instead, I let out a wry chuckle, rubbing my chin.

“Well, technically, we’re just ‘taking work home with us.’ Hiding in shadows is our profession, isn’t it?”

Sparrow let out a startled laugh, but I saw the flicker of something somber in her eyes.

“It’s one hell of a job,” she murmured.

“It sure is,” I agreed.

For a moment, neither of us spoke . . . because what could we say?

This was the life we had. The choices we’d made.

Loving someone like Thomas—loving at all—was always going to be dangerous.

Sparrow looked at me, then smiled, small and knowing.

“I’m glad you have him,” she said, reaching over and squeezing my arm.

I grinned, putting my hand on hers and returning the squeeze. “Me, too.”

She rolled her eyes, but her smile lingered.

Curiosity got the better of me.

“So what’s going on with you and Egret?”

She blinked, turning her head. “What?”

“You heard me.” I grinned. “Last time we saw you two, you were getting close— really close. Now it’s . . . I don’t know. It feels different. What did he do? Did he screw it up?”

She sighed, rubbing her temple. “God, Will. You ask questions like some preteen in the lunchroom.”

“I just want to know if my favorite tragic character inspiration finally got his act together.”

“Your favorite tragic character inspiration? Planning on becoming a novelist after . . . whatever this life is?”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

She made a frustrated noise, but the corner of her mouth twitched, betraying her amusement.

I had her now.

I patted the seat next to me. “Come on, let’s get comfortable. I need details.”

She rolled her eyes but relented, shifting so that she slid down into her seat, curling up like a child ready for whispered secrets. I did the same, sinking into the space beside her, pressing our shoulders together. Thankfully, we each resisted the urge to giggle.

“You’re impossible,” she muttered.

“And yet, here we are.” I nudged her with my shoulder again. “Now, out with it. I want all the details. Make me jealous of . . . something.”

She gave me a look, then let out a slow breath. Her eyes drifted to the window, where I doubted she saw much of the passing countryside. Her eyes were glazed, lost in memory.

“It took forever . . .” she admitted, her voice distant and dreamlike. “For us to give in to whatever this was. I mean, you know how he is: always deflecting, always turning everything into a joke. I wasn’t going to waste my time with someone who couldn’t be honest about what he wanted—or, at least, be serious when needed. He can be such a child.”

“And yet,” I teased, smirking.

“And yet,” she repeated with a soft laugh, turning back toward me. Her fingers traced a loose thread on her sleeve. “After our last mission, we ended up back in the States together. I wasn’t supposed to stay. I was only passing through before heading to another posting, but Egret—” She hesitated, a small smile flickering across her lips. “He convinced me to wait. To see where things might lead.”

I grinned, nudging her. “So he made a move.”

“You make it sound so dramatic.”

“It is dramatic!” I hissed, excitement thrumming in my chest. “Do you know how much money I would have lost if we’d been placing bets on how long it would take for you two to just give in to each other?”

She laughed, dropping her head against my shoulder. For the briefest moment, we were just two friends chatting and laughing and supporting each other. In a world so often at war with itself, that was a moment of perfect peace. I took a mental snapshot and hoped it would last forever.

“I moved to Washington for him,” she admitted, voice quieter now. “He was stationed there between missions. The agency wanted him close.”

That surprised me. “You moved for him?”

“I know,” she muttered, rubbing her forehead. “Who am I?”

“Someone who fell for a pain in the ass.” I chuckled, then added, “I get it.”

She snorted, glancing at my sleeping Thomas. “Yeah, you would.”

The train rattled on, and for a moment, neither of us spoke. Then she sighed. “I love him, Will. I really do, but he’s . . . complicated . . . and that’s probably too kind a word for it.”

“How so?”

She thought a moment, then met my gaze for the first time since I’d asked about Egret. “He bottles things up so much, lets them out only when he absolutely has to. It’s impossible to crack his shell, for him to let someone inside. I’ve come close a few times, and, Will, he’s beautiful when he lets me see him— really see him. But . . . I don’t know . . . Far too often, he hides behind this stupid mask of humor that isn’t even funny half the time.”

Her voice was so small, tiny really. I knew admitting all of that wasn’t easy for her. Sparrow wasn’t the type to second-guess or bemoan anything.

“Do you think he loves you?” I asked.

She didn’t hesitate. “I know he does.”

“Then don’t give up on him yet,” I said, making it all sound so simple, too simple.

She sighed, shifting against the seat. “I just don’t know if he’ll ever let himself be fully known. If he’ll ever open up without me having to pry it out of him with a crowbar and dynamite.”

“Resorting to violence.” I smirked. “That’s . . . one approach.”

She bumped her shoulder into mine and chuckled, then propped her head against mine.

I thought about Egret, the way he wielded humor like a weapon, the way he deflected everything that mattered. I thought about how he looked at Sparrow when he thought no one was watching.

“He will,” I said, gentle but certain. “It just takes time. Some of us need a little longer to figure out how to let people in.”

She looked at me, her expression soft.

“You really think so?”

“I do.” I nudged her again. “And if he doesn’t, I’ll kick his ass for you.”

She laughed again, quieter this time, before wrapping her arms around me in a quick hug.

I returned it, pressing my chin against the top of her head for a second before pulling away.

“Thanks, Will. God, I missed you.”

“Me, too,” I said, meaning it with everything in me. “After this is over, we can’t lose touch again, okay?”

“Never,” she breathed into my neck.

She sat back, still smiling, when a throat cleared nearby.

We turned to find Thomas staring at us, his arms crossed, one eyebrow raised.

Sparrow bolted upright and straightening her jacket.

I just smirked.

“Something to say, Dr. Beckett ?” I asked, leaning back.

His eyes flicked to Sparrow, then back to me.

“No,” he said, “but . . . why do I feel like I should?”

I grinned, shrugging. “Oh, you know me. Just comforting a friend.”

His eyes narrowed.

I winked.

Thomas sighed, shaking his head as he ran a hand through his hair, amused, but resigned.

“You’re a disaster,” he half laughed, half muttered.

“And yet,” I said, grinning wider, “here we are.”

Sparrow snorted, and even Thomas smirked.

Only then did the train begin to slow, as the outskirts of Hungary came into view.