Page 77 of Man of Honor
I’d never had the chance to care for someone else like this. As the youngest of Boone’s adopted sons, I was the one everyone else watched over most. Looking out for someone else like they were the most precious thing in the world felt good. Better than I’d imagined.
As my mind drifted, something on the bedside table caught my eye. A colorful string bracelet, woven in mismatched neon and knotted unevenly, sat amid the organized chaos of pill bottles and cold cups of coffee. I picked it up, testing the strength of the scratchy threads, and dangled the bracelet between us.
“This yours?” I asked. “Didn’t peg you as the friendship bracelet type.”
Wyatt half-opened one eye. “One of the kids left it,” he said, smiling faintly. “They were up here the second you ran to the pharmacy, bouncing off the walls like they were on a mission to drive me crazy.”
I chuckled and shook my head, gently tying the twine around the wrist he had laying atop the quilt. “That’s what you get for being their favorite.”
“Favorite, my ass,” he said with a dry snort. “I think they were just making sure I wouldn’t keel over.”
“Yeah, well, considering most of them wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you, I’d say they’re pretty invested,” I pointed out, lifting his hand and kissing the inside of his wrist. His pulse was strong and steady beneath my lips. “What’d you expect? You’re the one who placed most of them in the foster program. They’re just trying to pay back the care you gave ‘em.”
“I didn’t do it for payback,” he said wearily.
“I know.” I smiled. “That’s why they love you.”
He blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in my tone, and then looked away. His jaw tightened like he wasn’t sure what to do with the compliment. Typical Wyatt. He could dish it out, but he couldn’t take it.
“You know,” I continued, slipping my finger under the bracelet and stroking the inside of his wrist, “they probably just wanted to make sure you feel like part of this family. You’re not just the guy who drops kids off and disappears.”
Wyatt stared at the ceiling with a blank expression. Just when I thought he was about to brush it off or change the subject, he let out a slow breath and said, “I don’t know what the hell to do with that.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
His sigh was so heavy it felt like the room itself dipped under the weight. He shifted, withdrawing from my touch and resting his hand on his stomach, right above the bandages peeking out where his shirt had ridden up. Eventually, he admitted, “I don’tknow what I’m supposed to do anymore. Being a cop was all I ever wanted to do.”
“You’re still you, Wyatt,” I said, passing him a glass of water to clear his throat. “Still helping people. That doesn’t change just because you’re not wearing a badge.”
He chugged half the glass, throat bobbing, and didn’t answer right away. I reached out, adjusting the pillows behind his head, and my fingers brushed the edge of his bruised jaw. He turned toward the touch, so slightly I couldn’t be sure if he’d done it accidentally or on purpose, but it didn’t matter. My need to care for him, to touch him in small ways, was nearly insatiable.
“I liked being on the street,” he admitted quietly, breaking the silence. “Meeting people where they’re at, you know? It’s what kids like Ivy and JJ and Louis need, and what men like you need when your back’s against the wall. How am I supposed to help people from behind a desk?”
The vulnerability in his voice struck a chord in me. Wyatt wasn’t the kind of guy who doubted himself. At least, not out loud. Seeing him so uncertain was an honor, one I refused to cheapen with my own guilt and regret. Gideon had been right when we’d spoken in the kitchen; Wyatt had made his choice. As his partner, my job was to back his play.
Keeping my tone light, I asked, “What did Langford want earlier? He didn’t swing by just because Ben wanted to chat, did he?”
Wyatt’s mouth tightened, and he glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. “Gage…”
I held up a hand, cutting him off before he felt compelled to say something he shouldn’t. “I’m not asking for details. I know youcan’t talk about everything you were doing with that task force. I don’t need to know more. I trust you, baby.”
The tension in his shoulders eased, and he clasped my hand where it rested on the edge of the blanket, lifting my fingers to his lips.
“Langford offered me a job,” he said, lips brushing my knuckles. “Half the investigators for the AG are lawyers, but the other half are LEOs from various agencies. I’d fit right in.”
“How do you feel about it?” I asked carefully.
He let out a short, humorless laugh. “I don’t know. I’d still be helping people, but it’s not the same. I wouldn’t be out there getting my hands dirty, you know?”
I turned that over in my head for a few minutes, watching him, clocking his expression even when he tried to hide it. Sunlight filtered through the window, catching in the dark strands of his hair, now curling faintly at the edges from humidity.
“You could always help at Eden in your off time,” I suggested, toying with the curls at his nape. “Plenty of dirt here to go around.”
Amusement sparkled in his eyes. “That right?”
“Damn right,” I said, kissing him. “I might be learning to control my temper, but I could still use someone to keep me out of trouble. That goes double for the kids. Boone made a life out of making this place work, and the older I get, the more I appreciate how hard that must have been. It takes half a dozen of us to do what he did alone.”
Wyatt’s gaze softened. “The best fights are the ones you don’t have to face alone. I like the idea of cleaning up the rot in thisparish and then coming home to help you here. Maybe it’s time I figure out how to build something instead of just cleaning up what’s already broken.”