Page 36 of The Stowaway
I should’ve taken a damn Uber. Or chosen one of the other cars. We’d been picked up in three cars, and I should’ve gone with Riggs and Emerson.
“Admit it, man,” Beckett said. “The rumors are true. You met someone.”
The fuck was this, gossip hour? When his relationship with Leighton had become public, I hadn’t piled on questions or bothered them.
I pulled out my phone and sent Kiera a quick message.
5 mins to HQ. Can’t fucking wait to see you.
On the flipside, the talk about me would fizzle soon. Yeah, yeah, Hyatt was doing the unthinkable—he was actually seeing someone.
Someone fucking amazing.
That woman already had me by the balls. It was insane.
I’d told her she was welcome to stop by Hillcroft when we returned, not really believing it was something she’d prioritize. But it was the closest we got to having some form of celebration for new operators when they came back from Ecuador. Some would have family waiting to congratulate them. The cafeteria would have cake. Quinlan would come down and shake the new operators’ hands. And then it was back to work. Back to regular programming.
Kiera had said she’d be there, though. In fact, she’d said hell yes. Just to see me.
Slowly but surely, she was showing me she fit in. She wasn’t one of those operator wives who’d wait at home. She wanted to know me—all of me—and she wanted to understand. She clearly got along with Doc, and she’d made a friend too. I’d heard she and Operator Wilde had met up for coffee a couple times.
My phone buzzed with Kiera’s response.
There are like twenty people in the lobby. To avoid the risk of getting lost in the crowd, (I swear that’s the only reason), I think it’s best I run straight into your arms. Please catch me. ;)
I was quick to type back.
I’ll always catch you, hellcat. Come at me.
Blue cleared his throat next to me. “You might wanna check that grin if you wanna be discreet, sir.”
I shot him a scowl.
“What was that?” Beckett leaned forward between the front seats. “Did Hyatt say something? You let me know if he does, Blue.”
I glared at the fucker. “What happened to you, man? When did you stop minding your fuckin’ business?”
Something flashed in his eyes, and he shrugged and scratched his jaw. “You weren’t very good at minding your business when I tripped after Hell Week. All you rat bastards wanted to spread that shit around.”
“Oh, dip,” Kelley chuckled.
For the— I let out a laugh. “That was different.”
“How?” Beckett pressed.
“Because it was fucking hilarious!” Come on, after being a dick all week, during every drill, saying he was superior and the rest of us should go through recruit training again, he’d tripped on his damn shadow or something and smashed his hamburger against our car. I was still laughing about it. Best case of karma.
“He kinda has a point, Bo.” Quinn sounded like he was trying to suppress his own laughter.
“The fuck he does,” Beckett grumbled, sitting back again. “Let me just say, revenge will be sweet.”
I snorted and glanced out the window. We were almost there. Across the overpass, last exit, then Hobbs Circle, with Hillcroft coming into view.
“I’ll drop you in front of the plaza,” Blue said. “While you knock yourself out on whatever cake they got from Costco, Doc and I are getting Yaya’s honey rolls.”
Beckett cared. I didn’t. I wasn’t much for sweets, unless it was churros or Kiera’s pancakes.
“Kid, if you wanna make me jealous, go with cashews or a jar of cornichons,” I drawled.
