Page 38 of Omega in Love
Afew days after the call with Charlotte. I go in search of Brookes who is taking advantage of a much-needed break in his busy schedule. Hero and Levi are out shopping for food to barbecue later. Levi, of course, said the day was too perfect not to enjoy the grill and spend some quality time together. I think everything has been so fast paced day after day that this is something we all need. Between Brookes' back-to-back photoshoots and our rotating security shifts, we've barely had a moment to breathe, let alone relax together. I mean, I'm wearing shorts and a tank top today, if that's not relaxed, I don't know what is. Considering I practically live in tactical gear and suits, this is my equivalent of vacation clothes.
The California sun beats down, warming the concrete around the pool to a temperature that reminds me of missions in the Middle East. This time, there's no sand in my boots or the weight of a rifle on my shoulder, just the promise of cold beer later and the man I can't stop thinking about.
Brookes is draped across a pool lounger like a damn magazine cover, long legs stretched out, ankles crossed, a ridiculous oversized sunhat shadowing most of his face, andthe tiniest pair of swim shorts I've ever seen. They cling to his thighs like they're painted on, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. He's holding a glass of something citrusy, condensation dripping down the sides, and his skin gleams like the sun itself stopped to admire him. The scent of roses drifts toward me on the breeze, mixing with chlorine and sunscreen in a way that's become synonymous with peace in my mind.
I'm with the sun on this one. I've kissed every inch of his body and basking in him has become my favorite pastime. There's something almost religious about watching him when he doesn't know I'm looking. The way his chest rises and falls, how his fingers absently trace patterns on his thigh, the slight furrow between his brows when he's deep in thought.
I lean against the sliding door, arms folded, watching him from inside like a man with no self-control. Because I'm not even pretending anymore. I've faced down things most people only see in nightmares. I've been shot at. Hunted. Betrayed. Crossed deserts with nothing but a compass and pure determination. None of it ever unraveled me like Brookes Daniels sunbathing in silence. Nothing ever made me feel as weak or as strong as loving him does.
"You're staring," he says without lifting his head, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. His voice carries the lazy warmth of the afternoon.
"You're lounging. Indecently." I retort with a huff, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably. Even to my own ears, I sound besotted.
A lazy grin tugs at his lips, and he adjusts his position slightly, somehow making those shorts ride even higher. "Jealous of my outfit?"
"Distracted by it." I step outside, letting the heat wrap around me like a blanket. The concrete burns slightly through my sandals as I cross to him. I drink in every detail, the sheen ofsweat at his collarbone, the way his lashes cast shadows on his cheeks.
Brookes stretches like a cat, muscles moving beneath sun-warmed skin. His back arches slightly, and I catch a glimpse of the small scar on his hip, a reminder of everything he's survived. "Thought you hated the sun."
"I do." I sit beside him, the lounger dipping under our combined weight. Our thighs press together, skin to skin. "But I hate being away from you more."
He blinks once, slowly, like he's processing that. The truth in my words hangs between us. I'm not a man who speaks easily about feelings, but with Brookes, the words seem to find their way out without my permission.
A beat passes. I shift the mood, clearing my throat. "We need to talk about New York."
That earns me a groan. His entire body tenses, the relaxed posture vanishing in an instant. "There it is."
"I know you're not thrilled, but I want you to understand what's in place." My hand finds his knee, thumb tracing small circles on his skin. A grounding touch.
"Let me guess," he mutters, pulling his hat lower as if it could shield him from more than just the sun. "Drones. Guards. Dudes with sunglasses saying, 'copy that' into their wrists like bad movie extras."
"Actually, yes. All of that. Plus, a private escort to and from the venue, undercover units positioned throughout the crowd, and extraction points mapped out in advance. You'll never be alone." I pause, making sure he's listening. "Not for a second, Brookes. I've personally vetted every person involved, along with Charlotte and her pack. Triple-checked the routes. I've even memorized the building blueprints, every exit, every stairwell, every possible scenario."
Brookes says nothing at first. Then, voice soft, almost lost in the ambient sounds of water lapping against the pool's edge, he murmurs, "But what if the threat isn't out there? What if the problem is me?"
I look over at him and watch him physically deflate. His shoulders are tight and he curls into himself, his mouth pulled into something too fragile to be a frown. The confident supermodel facade slips, revealing the man underneath, the one who still wakes up gasping some nights, reaching for one of us in the dark.
"Then we don't go," I say simply, no hesitation in my voice.
He scoffs, a bitter sound that doesn't belong in this sun-drenched moment. "You'd shut down the whole operation because I have a panic attack?"
I lean back, arms resting behind my head, eyes fixed on the cloudless sky. "Want to hear something dumb?"
His eyes flick toward me, curiosity momentarily outweighing anxiety. "Sure."
"I used to think love was a weakness. A liability. Something to be avoided at all costs. I spent years making sure I couldn't be touched. Building walls so high that even I forgot what was behind them sometimes." The confession feels strange on my tongue. I don't think I've ever said those words aloud before.
He shifts, watching me now with more curiosity than caution. His fingers fidget with the edge of his hat nervously.
"But then you came into my life and ruined all that. Now I'm the guy memorizing your tea preferences and what songs calm you down. I know which nightmares make you shake and which ones make you cry. And honestly?" I glance at him, my voice dropping to something intimate, meant only for him. "You make it easier to breathe. So, yes, I would shut it all down to keep your peace. Your peace is my peace, Petal."
Brookes slowly sets his drink down on the concrete beside us. The ice clinks against the glass as he moves. He climbs off the lounger and settles into my lap, straddling my hips like it's where he's always belonged. The weight of him is familiar now, comforting in a way I never expected another person could be.
"You're dangerous when you talk like that," he whispers, thumb tracing the scar on my jaw, his touch feather-light but burning all the same.
Removing his sun hat and tossing it beside the lounger, I brush my fingers through his hair, cupping his cheek. His skin is warm from the sun, smooth under my calloused palm. "Being with you chases the demons away. Even the ones I thought I'd already buried."
His eyes glisten with unshed tears, the brown depths holding a universe of emotion. "I want to be brave."
