I haven’t even met Mason’s daughter yet, so I’ve been avoiding speculating about what our lives might become after he brings her home. Kids have always been one of those abstract concepts I imagined I’d consider more seriously once my life was more settled. But since becoming a doctor, I’ve learned how much I thrive on seeking out challenges with uncertain outcomes, and working to assert my skill on them to achieve the outcome I desire. This is how I approach medical cases, at any rate. But in those it’s always very clear what the outcome should be. I know what I want within seconds.
In Mason’s case, all I know for certain is that I want to pursue a future with him, whatever that entails. In a sense it’s freeing to not know exactly how our lives will turn out, just as long as we’re together. But it’s also both exhilarating and terrifying in equal measure, and the reminder that it won’t just be him I’m tying my life to throws an enormous question mark into the mix.
My inner perfectionist doesn’t know what the hell to do with it, only that I desperately don’t want to fuck it up.
After a brief hunt, I find Nina by the vending machine, scooping a chocolate bar out of the dispenser. She sees me and goes still, closing her eyes and shaking her head. “You don’t owe me anything Callie. He’s your brother.”
“Nina, I wanted to tell you so badly. We just didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up. Dad doesn’t even know.”
She frowns and turns away, aiming for a bench a few yards down the hall where she sits and rips open her chocolate bar. “It’s that big a secret?”
“We don’t actually have any real intel on his status. We won’t until Mason and I get back from Mexico.”
“Schrödinger’s Chris,” she muses, breaking off a square of chocolate and popping it into her mouth. “I think he’d be entertained by that.”
“Yeah, he would. Trust me, I will tell you when we find out anything worth sharing.” She offers her candy to me and I break off a piece for myself. “Did you tell Wyatt about him?”
An expression of pure anguish comes over her and she shakes her head. “I didn’t know how,” she whispers, giving me a desperate look, her brown eyes wide. “How do you tell the guy you’re on the verge of falling for that he reminds you of someone who died? I mean, he doesn’t now that I know him better. Wyatt’s a lot more cautious and level-headed, for one thing.”
“He’d understand, wouldn’t he? It wasn’t like you and Chris were together before. That would be a lot harder to live up to, I would think.”
Nina scrunches her eyes shut and a tear trickles from the corner of one, trailing down the side of her nose. She starts to shake her head. “It was just one night before his last assignment—I’m sorry I never told you. We were going to wait until he got back, but then he never did, and . . . Oh, god . . .”
Her voice breaks, and the helpless look she gives me says more than any words could convey.
“Oh,” I say when it becomes clear that I had it wrong all this time. “Oh, Nina. I had no idea. I’m so sorry.”
I pull her into my arms and hold her tight, my heart breaking all over again for the grief she must have endured in silence all these years.
35 Mason
With Arturo Flores bankrolling half this operation, we have access to a private luxury jet for the flight back to Mexico City. It’s like night and day from my flight up, and I can’t help but laugh when we buckle into our seats.
“What’s so funny?” Callie asks.
“When I left Mexico, I was in zip-ties with my face on the floor of the plane. They didn’t even strap me down.”
She grimaces, and Maddox lets out a snort as he buckles into the seat across from me. It’s just the three of us, along with the pilot, co-pilot, and a single flight attendant. The plane is tricked out with cushy leather seats and sofas, and the three of us have a small table between us.
“Are you comfortable? Do you need an ice pack?” Callie asks.
I lift an eyebrow at her and my mouth twitches. “No, but if you want to meet me in the lavatory when we’re airborne, we can test my mobility. Maybe do a little comparison of private versus public airplane bathrooms.”
“Now there’s a story I need to hear,” Maddox says, grinning at us both.
Callie’s cheeks turn bright red and she glares at us in turn, spending an extra few seconds on me. “You’re forbidden from doing anything stupid, got it? That includes sex in weird places, no matter how fun it sounds. And I’m preemptively giving you an ice pack.”
She reaches into the portable med-kit she brought and fishes out one of several instant cold packs, squeezes it until it cracks, and then urges me to lean forward so she can slip it between my back and the seat.
I meet my brother’s gaze and roll my eyes, but he just offers an amused smirk.
“She did this when we met,” I explain. “Remember I still had that shiner from Zavala’s cabrones? She had me on ice before we even had a proper conversation.”
“Consistency isn’t a bad quality,” Maddox says. “And it’s some comfort to know you’ve found a woman who will take care of you in spite of your idiocy.”
I flash him a grin. “Just for the record, the lavatory sex was her idea.”
“Even better,” he says on a laugh, then turns and eyes the narrow door to the private jet’s restroom. “I wonder if it’d fit three,” he muses. “Not that we’d need to squeeze in there if we have the whole plane to ourselves, though. Maybe I’ll suggest a vacation to Leo and Celeste when we get back.”
“Oh my god,” Callie murmurs
