Page 78 of Man of Lies

I spun around.

Silas stood at the edge of the porch steps, hands tucked in his jeans pockets. His shirt clung to his broad chest, damp where thebayou mist had kissed it. The ends of his sleeves were rolled, and the wind off the dock tugged at his hair, curling it slightly at the edges.

He looked like both a sin and a sacrament.

“Door’s open,” he said in a low voice. “But I figured you’d come find me first.”

I stared at him silently, too overwhelmed to speak. The man who made his living with words, struck dumb by the sight of the one man who made me whole. All I could say was…

“Silas.”

“Hey, counselor,” he murmured, eyes smiling. “Miss me?”

My fists clenched at my sides. I stared at him, heart rattling in my ribs, but I felt frozen. I’d imagined this moment more times than I could count. Sometimes it ended in anger. Sometimes in silence. Sometimes I couldn’t even picture him showing up at all.

But never—not once—had I imagined what it would feel like to see him standing here. Looking at me like that. Like I washis. Like all he was waiting for was me to realize it.

My throat burned. I tried to breathe, but it just stuttered out of me in a half-sob that sounded like it belonged to someone else.

That’s when I broke.

It wasn’t graceful or planned or dignified. It was a need so powerful that it broke through all the careful boundaries I'd sealed around myself. In one blind leap, I threw myself off the porch and collided with his chest.

He caught me in his arms like he’d known it was coming.

From the very first, he could always read me like a book.

His grip was firm and sure, one hand cradling the back of my head, the other fisting in my shirt like he needed the contact just as much as me. My arms were around his shoulders, brutally hard, and I pressed my face to the curve of his neck to breathe him in, warm and solid andhome.

The scent of him… God, it was enough to break me.

“Goddamn you,” I said hoarsely, digging my fingers into the meat of his shoulders. “You took your time.”

His laughter was a low, rumbling sound against my chest. “It’s not easy, shutting down an old life and creating a new one from scratch. There were leases to break and clearances to surrender.” His voice was soft and deep in my ear. “I had to pack up the apartment and clean out a locker full of half-finished reports. You wouldn’t believe the paperwork.”

His breath was warm against my throat, and I felt more than heard the exhaustion tucked into those words. It hadn’t been easy for him. Of course, it hadn’t. A man like Silas didn’t justleavesomething he’d dedicated his life to. He had to peel himself out of it one scar at a time.

“Turned in my badge,” he added after a beat. “Walked out with a handshake.”

I pulled back far enough to look him in the eyes and get a read on his expression. There was something new in his eyes. Not regret. Just a sense of wistfulness and…freedom. Hard-won and still raw around the edges.

“I didn’t know where I was going at first,” he said, brushing a thumb along my jaw like he couldn’t quite believe I was real. “Just knew where I needed to end up.”

My breath caught, and I swallowed around the outpouring of questions that wanted to spill from my throat.

“So, I found this place,” he said, nodding toward the cabin behind us. “Paid six months up front. Gator’s crew never talked, and the ones who knew anything worthwhile either disappeared or don’t want the smoke. The feds are chasing bigger targets now. As far as Devil’s Garden’s concerned…Silas McKenna’s just an ex-con with a talent for slinging whiskey and bad jokes.”

I blinked at him. “Seriously? You’re just gonna go back to being a bartender?”

His mouth quirked. “Someone’s gotta do it. A place like this needs someone behind the bar who isn’t afraid to take keys from drunks or play therapist when the regulars start crying into their beer.”

“You were the worst therapist I've ever met,” I muttered.

He grinned. “Yeah, well. You kept coming back.”

My jaw flexed, but I couldn’t stop the pull at the corner of my mouth. He wasn’t wrong.

Silas pulled back, putting some space between our bodies, but he didn’t let go. His hands stroked up and down my bare arms, like he couldn’t stop touching me.

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