Page 61 of Chasing Kit

“I meant what I said last night, you know,” he said, suddenly serious. “About not leaving.”

Maybe he was a mind reader. Or my expression spoke too much for me.

I nodded, eyes on the coffee as it dripped in slow, uneven spurts.

Kit got off the counter, padded over, and put his hand on my hip, tentative and sweet. “And I know you’re a big, manly navy SEAL who struggles with feelings, but . . . .”

He searched for the right word, as if he hadn’t already solved every problem in his life by just talking them into submission.

“You can say it. I’m not gonna run for the hills.”

He bit his lip, and for once, he looked shy, like he was the one being asked to leap out of a plane with no parachute. “I love you,” he said, quick and quiet, like it was a secret he hadn’t already shared back in St. Loren.

Still, hearing it again made my hands tremble. I set the mug down before I shattered it.

“I know.” My voice came out a rasp, thin and uneven. “I love you, too.”

Kit grinned, wide and stupid, and for the first time in years I wanted to stay in a moment instead of letting it dissolve behind me.

Then, my phone buzzed. Three times, insistent and sharp, ruining a moment I hadn’t planned but was enjoying. Goddamn it.

Kit’s smile faded, but he didn’t let go of my hand. “Duty calls?”

“Probably,” I said, pulling the phone from my sweatpants pocket.

It was Derek. Not a call, just a text.

Derek

Is he there?

I typed back and hit Send.

War

Yeah. He’s here and safe.

Fuck. Maybe I should’ve made sure Kit let Derek know where he’d be staying. It was stupid, but Kit had distracted me, which was an easy feat, apparently.

The response came immediately.

Derek

I’m coming over.

I put the phone away and looked at Kit. “Your dad’s coming here. In person.”

He grimaced, but there was no fear in it. Just resignation. “Do we have to let him in?”

“Technically, we could barricade the door,” I teased, knowing I would never do that to Derek, especially because Derek had saved my life when I’d needed it the most. “But he’d send someone to chainsaw it open.”

Kit considered that. “Do you have a chainsaw?”

“No, but your father does. It’s in the trunk of his BMW. Don’t ask why.”

He actually laughed at that, a real laugh, and for a second, I felt the old boundary between us—boss’s son and employee—snap and fall away.

“Guess I should put on some clothes. Wouldn’t want to scar him for life.”