“Have a seat. Beer?” Whip said when he pulled back.
“Just one. I’m heading to Diesel’s place.” He slid onto a tall bar stool as Whip stepped back behind the bar.
“You can walk from here.”
Zane smiled. “Yeah.”
“You know they got the kids?”
“I do.”
Whip placed a coaster and foaming beer on the gnarled wood with a smile.
“I’m an uncle.”
He guzzled half his beer and wiped his mouth.
A shadow from the hallway drew his attention and US Marshal Axel Bain stepped out.
“Hey, Axel, how’ve you been?” He gripped the man’s hand tightly.
“Can’t complain,” Axel drawled.
“I can,” Whip snarked.
Axel sliced Whip an annoyed look and Zane laughed.
“Really, you should have seen the last guy we had to put into WITSEC.” Whip launched into a tale that had him and even Axel in stitches.
Thirty minutes later, he tugged out his wallet.
Whip waved him off. “This one’s on me.”
“Thanks, man.” Reaching over the counter, he gripped Whip’s hand hard and then turned to give a backslapping hug to Axel. “I’ll stop by before I leave. I’ll be here for a day or two.”
“On leave?” Axel asked.
“Something like that.”
Whip frowned slightly, but thankfully, didn’t ask questions.
Slip sliding on the icy sidewalk, he made it to his jeep. Gravel crunched beneath his tires when he parked on the side of the street in front of his brother’s house. His boots creaked through the snow when he opened the white picket fence and stepped through.
The front door opened at the same time and Diesel stepped out, shutting it behind him.
“Hey, bro,” he called to get Diesel’s attention.
“Zane!” His brother’s face lit up. “You didn’t call me when you got close.”
“I wanted to surprise you.”
Diesel carefully stepped through the slush and down the three short steps to yank him into his arms.
He squeezed his big brother tightly.
“How you doin, Dad,” he cackled.
Diesel laughed and held him at arm’s length. “Can you imagine?”
“I can. You’ll be an awesome dad.”
“I have to get stuff from the store, but come on in, meet the kids and get settled.”
He stepped inside the warm house behind Diesel, freshly baked cookies lingered in the air. It was mid-January and the house remained festive with holiday decorations. The tree was still up with lights.
“We decided to keep the tree up for the twins or they wouldn’t have gotten one this year,” Diesel said, hanging his coat on the coat tree next to the door.
Zane followed suit with his own heavy bomber jacket.
“Don’t take off your boots, you can come to the store with me.”
He stood in the tiled entryway that spilled into the brown carpeted living room. Everyone in Oregon had a mud room or an entry, it saved the carpet from being destroyed.
Mud and snow clung to his boots and he almost stepped back outside to wait, but Triton’s voice stopped him.
“Zane! You made it,” Triton called from the kitchen door. A bright printed apron tucked into Triton’s jeans and at his side was a small boy clutching his pocket. On the other side was a small girl with pigtails holding his hand. With their dark hair and dark eyes, they looked like they could have been Diesel’s.
“Hi Triton.” Rather than approach, he waggled his fingers at the three in the doorway.
“This is Jessie and Jacob.”
“Hello there.”
“Guys,” Triton crouched between the children. “This is Uncle Zane. Remember I told you about him?”
Zane crouched where he stood and gazed at the children.
“Diesel, you and Zane take off your boots and stay a while. The groceries can wait,” Triton ordered.
“Don’t need to tell me twice!” Diesel immediately unlaced and kicked off his boots as ordered.
“Shoes on the mat,” little Jacob said, and Zane almost laughed up a lung when Diesel sheepishly place his dirty boots correctly on the mat.
“Don’t forget,” Diesel growled softly for his ears only. “I can still kick your ass, little brother.”
He laughed so much that the children started giggling and broke away from Triton to come closer.
He was an uncle, a fucking uncle.
Go figure.
“Another cup?” Diesel asked.
“No, I’m good.” He took a sip and glanced out at the morning sun glinting off the fresh snow.
He sat in his brother’s office with the door closed, affording them a bit of privacy. Not that they needed any, but Triton had ushered them in there last night and they’d just automatically returned inside the wide office with their morning coffee.
He’d vetoed going to his own house a few miles down the road and instead crashed on Diesel’s couch. He hadn’t wanted to be alone.
“I do need to be getting out of here before I get snowed in.”
“You have two weeks off,” his brother huffed.
“I know. I’m anxious to get back.”
“You were very quiet last night.”
“The kids were around.”
“Not in here,” Diesel reminded him.
He shrugged. He hadn’t opened up last night. He wasn’t sure he wanted to open up now, either.
“Tell me what happened.”
“I already told you.”
“That call didn’t tell me shit. All I know is that you were ordered on a two week leave and Isaac was assigned to Fury. I want details.”
At that point, he spilled everything, including their fight on the previous mission and the locker room kiss that had rocked his world.
Diesel poured a dash of whiskey in his morning coffee and slid the bottle toward him.
“I kissed him back, but he pushed away and tripped.” He dumped a splash in his coffee and took a sip.
Diesel chuckled when he described the lockers toppling.
“Laugh it up, but Liam wasn’t happy.”
“You’re sitting here on a two-week forced leave, so I gather that.”
“Yeah, but the leave is more because of our fight during the mission than the locker room disaster.”
Zane grimaced and swallowed down more of the doctored coffee.
“You need to talk to Isaac, smooth things out,” Diesel replied.
The silence lingered, safe and warm, and he drew in a deep breath.
“I did.” He did a hell of a lot more than smooth things out, but some things were private.
“After the locker room? Wait, back up.” Diesel frowned. “You made up already?”
“Yeah,
