Page 81 of Code Name: Harbor

“Whatever she did or didn’t do… it’s not yours. You pulled a sixteen-year-old off a corner and gave her eighteen years of a family she’d never have had otherwise. If she threw that away, that’s hers to have thrown. Not yours to have failed.”

His throat moves and the level of vulnerability I see in his beautiful eyes will probably haunt me the rest of my life. “How do you do that?” he asks quietly, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear.

“Do what?”

“Say the very right thing I needed to hear.”

“It’s my job.” I go up on my toes and kiss him. “It’s my job because I think I’m falling in love with you.”

I feel him go completely still against me. I hadn’t planned to say it. It just tumbled right out, and I don’t have a single urge to walk it back.

Finn pulls away just far enough to see my face, his eyes almost frantically searching mine. His expression is disbelieving and wrecked all at once. “Say that again,” he demands.

“I think I’m falling in love with you. I’m not a hundred percent sure because I’ve never been in love before, but I think this is what love should feel like.”

“Josie.” My name comes out rough and he cups the back of my neck before resting his forehead against mine. “I’ve never felt this way either, and I’ve never wondered what it felt like. But yeah… I think this is what falling in love must be. I’m going to earn you falling all the way.”

“You don’t have to earn it.”

“I’m going to anyway.”

And right there, in the middle of Occidental Park with his gun under his jacket and a Russian somewhere in the city who wants me dead, Finn Marlowe kisses me like I’ve never been kissed before.

CHAPTER 19

Finn

There’s an onion, three bell peppers, and a half pound of mushrooms on the cutting board, and I’m working through them methodically, cutting them into one-inch pieces.

I came down a little after seven and left Josie in my bed, sleeping on her back with one arm flung out to the side. She didn’t even move when the bed shifted, telling me that she’s exhausted and needs the sleep. Of course, part of that might be because I kept her up late last night, but I can’t fucking help myself when she’s near me.

The water outside the kitchen window is still and there’s a heron at the edge standing on one leg, still as a statue. He’s been there since I came down and my gaze keeps cutting his way to see if he’s going to try to nab a small fish from the shallows.

I think about last night and the significance of it. After ten minutes of indulging Josie in a walk through Occidental Park, we came here to my place and completely ignored the fact that we had told each other we were falling in love. We didn’t feel the need to discuss it, but I’m sure we were both processing it.

Josie kicked off her shoes by the door, and I poured us some wine. We made dinner together and she was a terrible help, stealing pieces of broccoli off my cutting board, distracting me by reaching past me to put something in a bowl with her hip pressed to mine, and I let her. We carried our plates out to the patio and turned on the heaters. We sat there with the gas humming and the water lapping at the shore’s edge. We ate pasta and talked about mundane life things like the best way to unclog a drain at her house and why Tom Hanks can’t seem to make a bad movie.

It was a beautiful evening made more so by the way she watched me as I peeled her out of her clothes in my bedroom. She put her palms flat against my chest and looked at me like she wanted to remember the shape of my face so she’d never forget it. And I had this thought, very clear, that I’ve spent thirty-six years on the planet and this is the first time another person has looked at me like I was something they wanted to commit to memory.

After, when we lay in the dark with our breath leveling out, she said my name once in a voice I hadn’t heard her use before. Just before she fell asleep and I swear it was like she was putting a stake in the ground.

Josie fell asleep with her head on my chest and one hand curled at my sternum. I didn’t sleep for a long time but lay in the dark and counted her breaths. I tried to stop my brain from running the math on how many ways she could be taken from me before I had the right to keep her.

The complications are still complications.

I’m still a man who smuggles illegal art for a living and I’m still a convicted felon. I’m still standing between a Russian and the woman I’ve fallen for. I have an old friend who’s either back in the fold or one phone call away from putting Josie’s name in the hands of a killer.

None of that went away as I was making love to her, but some of it got quieter.

My phone vibrates beside the cutting board and I wipe my hands on a towel before I nab it.

It’s from Marcus. All good here. C’s been on The Quartermaster since six. Helped me clean the bilge pump filter without bitching once. Old Connie. Maybe we’re okay, boss.

I read it twice and hope beyond hope it’s true. I want that old Connie back. I want the run to go clean and once we get to the other side of this with everyone alive, I want to make some decisions with my life.

My fingers type out a quick response. Good. Keep watching.

I put the phone face down on the island and stare at the stool where Josie sat last night when I finally banished her from helping me with dinner.