Page 32 of Coming In Hot
I set the fork down, my eyes narrowing as I try to make sense of what he’s asking. There’s a part of me that’s almost pissed off—no, scratch that,I ampissed off. After everything he’s put me through, he’s standing here, asking me totake care of his momlike I’m some trusted friend or partner, even.
“You’ve got some nerve, Pharo,” I mutter under my breath, more to myself than to him. “You show up here, after all this time, aftereverything, and you want me to babysit your mom? What the hell do you think I am?”
He leans in, voice lower now, and for the first time, I see that flicker of real vulnerability in his eyes.
“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t need to,” he says, the edge in his voice softer. “Just... keep an eye on her. Make sure she’s okay. I can’t do it right now, but I know you can.”
The part of me that still holds onto whatever shred of loyalty I have left to him hesitates, but the other part—the part that’s been burned by him too many times—wants to laugh in his face.
I exhale slowly, leaning back against the counter, my mind running through a dozen different responses. “Why me?” I ask finally, my voice low. “Why the hell would you trust me with something like this?”
Pharo stares at me, eyes serious. “Because I know you’ll do it. You may hate me, and I may have fucked up in every way possible, but you’re the only one I know who’d keep her safe without asking for anything in return. And I don’t have anyone else.”
He trusts me? After I’ve tailed him, snooped through his shit, trespassed, and cursed him six ways from Sunday at least twice a day for years? That’s… nuts.
I stare at him, the absurdity of it all sinking in. The nerve of him, askingme,of all people, for a favor. And the crazy part? He’s expecting me to say yes.
He must be lonelier than I am if he’s willing to rely onmefor something this important. I don’t even know how to process that. Pharo doesn’t trust anyone—not really. But here he is, asking me to watch over his mom like it’s some kind of simple, routine thing.
I shake my head slowly, trying to make sense of it all, but I’m coming up short. “You really think I’m the right person for this?” I ask, though the question feels pointless. It’s not like he’s going to back down now.
Pharo doesn’t look away. His expression is serious, like he’s already made his mind up, and he’s willing to bet on me—for whatever reason. “I don’t have anyone else, alright? I wouldn’t ask if I had another choice.”
The silence between us stretches out, thick and uncomfortable. There’s so much unspoken history hanging in the air. I want to refuse. I want to tell him to take his favor and shove it. But when I gaze at him, something in his eyes makes me hesitate. It’s not pity or desperation—it’s trust. And that’s what makes it so damn complicated.
I’ve spent years resenting him, but that trust... it hits differently. It feels like a responsibility I can’t ignore.
“I’m not doing this for you,” I say finally, my voice sharp. “I’m doing it for her.”
Pharo dips his head, a flicker of something—relief?—crossing his face. “That’s all I need.”
That expression on his face, though… I know that look. I recognize it from the service, from staring into my buddies’ eyes. The quiet kind of desperation, the one that doesn’t need to be spoken but says everything. He doesn’t know when he’s coming back.
I feel my stomach tighten, an uncomfortable knot forming. It’s the same look we’d give each other right before a mission—when the odds weren’t in our favor, when we didn’t know if we’d make it back in one piece.
And now it’s him, not me, facing the unknown.
I swallow the bitter taste in my mouth, my gaze drifting away from him.
“How long are you planning on being gone?” I ask, trying to keep the tension out of my voice.
Pharo hesitates, his gaze flickering away. “I don’t know. A while. My team needs me, and after Arlo’s injury, they’re a man down. I can’t just walk away.”
I can hear the responsibility he feels for his team. But there’s a part of me that’s still struggling with his request. It’s not easy to process, but I’m not going to back down now.
I can’t walk away from this, not with him staring at me like that—like he’s trusting me, like he has no one else.
“Also,” he adds, “she thinks I’m a security guard, so…”
The idea of Pharo dressed in a rent-a-cop suit, carrying a baton and a walkie-talkie instead of a rifle and a knife is so ludicrous I almost laugh out loud. I breathe out the air in my lungs, pushing away any lingering doubt. My resolve hardens. “Fine. I’ll keep an eye on her. But you owe me a favor as well.”
Pharo doesn’t hesitate, his eyes locking onto mine with the intensity I remember all too well. “Of course. Anything. Just name it.”
There’s one thing that’s been gnawing at me, something I need to hear. I’m not sure why I’m asking it, but it feels like it’s the only way I can take control of the situation.
“You have to promise to come back in one piece,” I say, voice low. “Alive and well.”
He blinks, and for a second, I think he’s going to laugh or brush it off like it’s no big deal. But then his expression changes. He straightens up, eyes serious, maybe even a little softer than they’ve ever been with me.
