Page 166 of Beyond Protection

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"Merry Christmas, Cormac."

"Merry Christmas, Mom."

When we were finally alone, Eamon looked at me. "Basement?"

"Yes."

I helped him up, and we crept down the steps gingerly.

He sat on the fold-out and started working at his sling.

"Let me." I knelt. Unbuckled the straps. Eased it off carefully. His sharp breath told me how much it hurt.

"Sorry."

"Not your fault."

I helped him out of the flannel. The bandage underneath was clean.

He sat shirtless in his jeans. Exhaustion carved into every line, but his eyes were clear.

"At the hospital," he said. "When I talked about the business. You never said anything.'"

I settled beside him. "Yeah."

"What does that mean?"

"'What if I built something. My firm trains them. I don't know about funding.'" I kept my voice soft, no drama. "Never 'we.'"

A moment of silence..

"Shit." He looked at our hands, fingers woven together. "After everything. After your family claimed me. After we—and I still reverted to solo."

"Three years of working alone. I get it."

"But that's not an excuse." His voice turned ragged. "You offered me a partnership with everything, and my first instinct was still building alone."

"Your instinct, yeah." I touched his knee. "But what do you want? Now that you're thinking about it."

He looked at me.

"You. This. Us. Building something that lasts."

"Then let's talk about how we actually do that. Not theory. Reality."

I lay down on the fold-out, propped on my elbow. He moved carefully, his good shoulder touching mine.

"The business. I don't have capital—"

"I do. Retirement money. Endorsement deals. I'll invest it in the business."

"Mac—"

"In us." I squeezed his hand. "Partners. Equal partners. Your expertise, my capital, our vision. We both bring something."

His thumb moved across my knuckles.

"Equal decision-making?"

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