Page 11 of Operation Daddy

Fletch found a book about one of July’s favorite dress-up dolls breaking her arm. He grinned like an idiot over the triumph. Fletch couldn’t wait to see July’s face when he got his gift. July needed some cheering up.

Rhodes leaned his way and lowered his voice. “I haven’t seen you smile like this in ages. Spill.”

Fletch cast him a quick glance. They were on guard duty. Beau’s husband had wanted to go shopping to find a surprise for Beau. That meant all the security they could spare. Fletch didn’t want to disturb Kylo while he talked his personal guard, Mickey’s, head off.

“July fell and broke his wrist the other day. I found a book he’ll love on the topic.”

Rhodes’ eyebrows rose. “That smile is for July? Interesting.”

That one drew a huff from Fletch. “Why’d you say ‘interesting ’ like that? July is a friend.”

Rhodes nodded along. “Friend. Got it. I wouldn’t have pegged him for your type.”

Fletch’s temper spiked.

“Your type?” Kylo poked his head between the seats. “Who are we talking about? Am I about to get another best friend?”

Fletch fought the urge to growl at Kylo’s interrogation. He couldn’t be rude or dodge him. “I have a friend at The PlayPen who broke his wrist. So I bought him a book about one of his favorite dolls breaking their arm.” He held up the book in question.

From the front seat, where Kylo had turned completely around, he bounced on his knees like a kid. “I love that doll. Tell me he loves bright clothes and makeup.”

Fuck his life. “He loves bright clothes and makeup.”

A loud squeal burst from Kylo. “I’m gonna have a new friend.”

The urge to pinch the spot between his eyes was real. Everyone thought they were more than they were. The realization made him pause. Were they more? Had he kept July in the friend zone, or were they dating and hadn’t even realized it? Jesus. Everyone’s assumptions had to have come from somewhere. Damn. They were in a relationship.

Thankfully, July had talked Leary and JJ into going on their honeymoon. Fletch had stood outside and listened to their conversation the night before last. He couldn’t believe what he heard, but he also wasn’t surprised. Unfortunately, July still hadn’t said anything of real consequence. From the sound of their conversation, Fletch got the impression Leary had known a lot more than any of them realized. Fletch couldn’t stop until he knew everything.

With his arms laden with bags, looking like he had entered a men’s league bringing-in-the-groceries competition, Fletch tried to be as quiet as he could. The bunker was built for short bursts, if the cops raided the place, or in case of active shooters. After all, the place belonged to the son of a weapons dealer. Anything was possible. To that end, there was a couch, a bed, a small dining table and chairs, a fridge, convection oven slash microwave, and a TV. Bare minimum stuff for a day or two of hiding out. Fletch stocked the fridge with items he knew July liked. He had also bought a ton of dolls, crafts, and puzzles to keep July from getting bored. Between his injuries and Rex, July needed time to heal while they dealt with the situation. Fletch felt partially to blame for July’s current state. It was possible, if Fletch hadn’t chosen to confront July on that hill, then things might have been different. He was the reason July hadn’t kept the distance Rex had promised. Fletch’s need to see July brought the heat down on July. Another black mark on his soul.

“Did I just see a box of the cocoa cereal I love?”

July still sounded like shit, but Austen had needed to do some repairs on July’s windpipe. He had warned Fletch that July might never regain his voice totally.

Fletch flashed a smile over his shoulder. “You did. Are you feeling up to a bowl? Austen said you were clear to eat anything you want. Maybe go a little easy on the throat, though.”

July struggled to move upright into a sitting position.

Fletch rushed to help. He tucked pillows behind him and ensured he was comfortable. July was pale by the time he managed to get settled.

“Thanks.”

Fletch winked. “No problem.”

July's eyes turned guarded. He stared at Fletch with suspicion. “Why are you being nice to me?”

Fletch sat on the bed at July’s side.

July shoved his hands between his bent knees as if nervous to hear the answer.

For a moment, Fletch stared at the floor. He took a deep breath. When he looked July’s way, the air changed. His heart stopped, the way that dumb organ always did with July. Fletch shook his head. “You drive me fucking crazy.” He swiped his hand through the air, trying to erase the words. “I didn’t mean to say that, but really. You drive me up the wall. One day, you’ll call and act like the world revolves around me. Then somehow everything revolves around you, yet I’m also not mad about it. The next time we talk, you turn into a brat who doesn’t even want to see me.”

“Holy shit, does this have a point? I feel like I’m being raked over the coals.”

“I don’t hate you,” Fletch answered, sounding as exhausted as he was. “Maybe that’s what I’m trying to get at. But I honestly have no idea how to handle you. You’re unique and I’m at a loss, and fuck, July. Why didn’t you come to me? You know who I work for. I could’ve kept you safe. Instead, you let Beau sit there and make you the bad guy. We would’ve helped you.”

“I am the bad guy.”