Page 79 of Last Man Standing

Nervous, she brings her eyes across to my dad first. “Sir. I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Not at all.” He squeezes my shoulder in farewell, then drops his chin and circles away.

“So sorry.” Serena wrings her hands together and stares down at her shoes. “I didn’t mean to send him away. I’ve been looking all over for you for the last couple of days.” She peeks up from beneath long, dark lashes. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were avoiding me or something.”

I have. But it’s not polite to say so out loud, so I cast my eyes toward my dad and watch him bark orders at my men. For every step he takes, I consider his parting words about integrity. Honor. Abuse.

“Sebastion?” Serena inches around and places herself in my line of vision. “Did you hear me?”

“Yeah.” I dig my hands into my pockets and frown. There was a time, not so long ago, where all this woman ever had to do was walk by and my cock would stir to life. Her perfume in my lungs would make me search for her. Her sassy smile and a crooked finger would make me follow.

She wanted to please me, and I wasn’t selfless enough to say no.

But now, staring into her eyes does something else entirely, and for the first time in my life, I’d rather analyze integrity and my interactions with a certain brunette woman.

Not even Serena Fallows could talk me into a deserted hallway anymore.

“I’ve texted you a few times.” Like she can hear my thoughts just as easily as I think them, she drops her smile and takes another step closer. “We’d made plans to catch up, remember? Back, before you left in September.”

Had we?

“I heard you were back, but every time I had a spare minute and went looking, you were just…” Shyly, she brings her shoulders up. “Not there. You don’t eat in the chow hall anymore, Tank?”

Tank.

Fuck, I’d forgotten how that name sounds on a flirty woman’s tongue.

“I eat in the chow hall.” I turn and pretend I’m working. Walking around my soldiers. Correcting poor technique. It’s my job. But of course, she catches up. “I was in the chow hall a couple of hours ago. And last night.”

“You must’ve been fast.” She wraps her arm around mine and cuddles into my side.

I unravel them and walk just a little faster.

I’m working!

“I texted and suggested we could meet in the chow hall the night before last.” She scurries after me, but at least she keeps her hands to herself. “You didn’t reply.”

“I’ve been away for months while my family picked up the slack and carried my load. I owe them time and effort now that I’m home.” I take out my binos and bring them to my eyes. “Being here is rarely a social event, Serena. It’s always been about work.”

“But I heard about that woman you brought back.” She grabs my forearm and drags me to a stop seventy feet from Scarlett’s window. Still, I ignore her touch and find Scarlett sitting exactly how she sat last time I checked.

Almost exactly.

Except this time, she stares straight back at me, bright blue eyes piercing my soul until I’m not sure I remember how it feels not to bleed anymore, and a couple of deep dimples I wish would flash more often because she’s happy, and not only because she’s sad.

“Tank?” Impatient, Serena tugs on my arm and tempts me to flick her off completely.

Gritting my teeth, I lower my binoculars, farewell my view of the woman who deserves better than terror and the fear of suffocation because I used my strength against someone incapable of meeting me pound for pound, and instead, I bring my focus back down.

What?

“I’m just not sure what’s going on between us,” she groans. “We agreed to hang out some more, but now you have a… a…” She gestures back toward the house. “That person. She’s not staying in the cells, which is where captives are generally kept, and⁠—”

“That’s because she’s not a captive.” I shake her hand off and take a step away. “She’s not our enemy, Serena.”

“Well, according to Arabella, she is.”

“I didn’t realize you and my mother discussed private family business,” I snarl, my temper flaring hot enough to melt the snow beneath our feet. “Should I save you a seat at our next meeting, or…?”