Page 120 of Falcon’s Forever

At least he’s honest, which is exactly what I asked for.

“Soon?” I ask.

“Probably,” Falcon admits.

My stomach tightens.

“We’re ready,” he says, then catches himself. “As ready as we can be.”

“That’s better.”

“I’m learning.”

“So I keep hearing,” I tell him.

He takes another drink. “Are you okay?”

“Are you?” I counter.

His mouth twists. “Classic deflection.”

“Yes,” I admit. “You’re right.”

“Impressive.”

I smile, then let it fade. “I’m scared.”

Falcon sets his mug down but doesn’t move any closer. “Of them?”

“Yes.”

“And?” he prompts.

He watches me and waits.

Of course he already knows. "You."

Pain flashes across his face, and I hate that I keep putting it there. It's still true, though. "Okay," he says.

"You're not going to argue?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because I'm scared of me too," he says, quieter.

That catches me off guard. "What do you mean?"

He rubs a hand over his jaw. "I spent years trusting instinct because instinct kept me alive. Most of the time it still does. The problem is I got used to believing the first instinct was automatically the right one."

I wait.

"When somebody threatened people I cared about, my first instinct was always to put myself between them and whatever was coming. That's not always wrong."

"No."

"It's wrong when I act on it before I've looked at every other option."