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“Okay,” Skye says. “You have to be friendly.”
Grant’s running on 3 hours of sleep for the past two days. He’s been on more buses than he cares to count. His gun has been poking into his side for way too long and he’s almost positive it’s going to chafe. He cracks his neck, and it’s way louder than it should be. He ignores the way Skye winces. “I’m always friendly.”
“I’m serious,” Skye says, leading him down the sidewalk. She’s got her greasy hair tucked under a baseball cap, she’s wearing his damn hoodie, and the dollar store makeup she put on this morning is not helping the bags under her eyes.
But Grant’s positive he looks 100 times worse, because she’s still completely gorgeous. God, he fucking loves her.
“When am I ever not friendly?” he asks, looping his arm around her shoulder.
“We need passports,” Skye says. “We’re literally running from the FBI. We need to get out of the States, and this guy’s the best way to do it.”
Grant’s expression twists into brief confusion. “So why are you expecting me to be a dick to him, then?
“Well,” Skye says, twisting her hair around her finger. “He’s kind of my ex.”
Grant almost trips over the uneven sidewalk. Almost takes Skye down with him. She uncurls herself away from his body. She takes a step back. “Hey!”
Grant steadies himself. Shoots her a bewildered look. “Kind of?”
“Funny story,” Skye says. “I never actually like, super-officially broke up with him.”
“Great,” Grant says, straightening up. He checks to make sure his gun hasn’t fallen out of place. Readjusts the duffle bag of contraband on his shoulder. “So I have to kill him, is what you’re saying.”
“Did I say anything involving those words?” Skye says. “I didn’t. Oh my God. I knew you’d do this.”
“Do what?” Grant says. “I’m protecting you from some guy that won’t take ‘no’ for an answer!”
“That’s sweet,” Skye says. “But first of all, I can handle myself. And second of all, that’s not why we haven’t broken up. We were kind of seeing each other and then I, um-” She bites her lip. “I got married.”
Grant brings his hands to his temples. “You were fucking someone before we got married?”
“So were you!” she says.
“No, I wasn’t,” Grant says. Which might’ve been because he had been in way too deep.
“We never agreed to be exclusive,” Skye says. “We weren’t boyfriend-girlfriend. We got married by accident, for fuck’s sake.” She gestures at him. “And you’ve fucked Trip plenty of times!”
“Everyone fucks Trip!” Grant says. “Trip doesn’t count.”
“I haven’t been fucking him since we got married,” Skye says. “Not even after our fight.” She stares up at him with those big brown eyes of hers. “It was just to blow off steam sometimes. Casual-ish. I thought we were allowed to screw other people.”
They never said they couldn’t. He has to give her that. “How often?” Grant asks.
She glares at him.
“What?” Grant says. “I’m curious.”
“Rarely,” Skye says. “Okay? He’s a good contact to have. He’s gonna get us passports.”
Grant lets Skye take his free arm, place it back over her shoulders. She puts her hand in his back pocket. “Can’t we find someone else?” Grant asks. “Someone who doesn’t know what your vagina looks like?”
Skye makes a noise of contempt and smacks him in the chest. “Grant!”
“What?” he asks. “I don’t have to be happy about this.”
“But you do have to be friendly,” Skye says. “Or he won’t give us our passports.”
“He will give us our passports,” Grant says. Maybe a little too gruffly. “I guarantee it.”
Skye sighs. “I regret so many things right now.”
“He knows you got married, right?” Grant says.
“I never told him,” Skye says. “I just stopped texting him.”
“Until we needed passports,” Grant says.
“I mean, yeah,” Skye says. “We killed a senator. Not a lot of people want to be associated with us right now.”
“Wait, wait,” Grant says. “Does he think you want to get back together?”
Skye knits her brows together. Gestures, wordlessly. “What?” she finally says.
“Is that how you’re getting us passports?” Grant says. “Because if he thinks you’re putting out for goddamn forged passports-”
“Oh my God,” Skye says. She pulls her phone out of her pocket. “Last night, I texted him COMING 2 AUSTIN. NEED 2 PASSPORT.”
“And what did he say?” Grant asks.
Skye looks at her phone. “K.”
“That’s it?” Grant says. “K?”
“That’s it,” Skye says.
“He’s dirty,” Grant says, narrowing his eyes. “He’s hiding something. I can feel it.”
“If you blow this for us,” Skye says. “You might as well get ready for the needle.”
“I’m not going to blow it,” Grant says. “Don’t even say that.”
“Well,” Skye says. “I’m just reminding you what could happen if you do.”
He squeezes her shoulder. “I won’t put us in danger.”
“I guess I’ll have to trust you, then,” she says. “Please don’t make me regret it.”
Grant offers her a lopsided grin. “When have I ever?”
“Does he have a name?” Grant asks, standing outside the door. “Or should I just call him Passport Guy?”
Skye snickers. “His name is Miles,” Skye says. “He’s a decent fence, an excellent hacker, and-”
“HEY MILES,” Grant yells, pounding his fist on the door. “OPEN UP!”
Skye grabs his arm. “Oh my fucking God,” she hisses. “Do you want to get arrested?”
“Right,” Grant says. He pounds the door. “Hey Miles! Pizza’s here! Come on buddy, open up!”
Skye just shakes her head.
“What?” Grant says. “It was a good save.”
The door swings inward, and there’s Miles. Curly hair, stupid face, long legs. Grant’s never hated anyone more.
“Hey,” Miles says. “You’re not pizza.”
“Shut up,” Skye says, pushing past him in the doorway. “Come on, Grant.”
Miles has already followed Skye back inside. Grant hears him ask, “Is this the guy you always talked about?”
Grant cocks his head. “You talked about me?”
Skye spares a glance over her shoulder. Then shrugs.
“Nice to meet you, by the way,” Miles says. “I’m guessing you picked him over me?”
“We got married,” Skye says. Casually.
“And I didn’t even get an invite,” Miles says.
Skye laughs. Shoves Miles on the arm. Grant kind of feels like he’s watching something on the TV. He’s definitely not watching his wife talk to her ex and already feeling left out. It’s definitely not that.
Skye and Miles settle at the kitchen table. Skye pushes back in her chair. Rests her feet on the table. It looks like she’s done it a thousand times before. Grant doesn’t want to think about that.
“So,” Grant says, pulling out the chair next to Skye’s. “Passports?”
“Yeah,” Miles says. “I’ve got them written up. I’ll just need photos.”
“What’re the names?” Skye asks.
“Mr. and Mrs. Thomas White,” Miles says.
Grant swallows harder than he means to. He catches Skye’s gaze. Watches her lower her feet. Rest her elbows on the table.
“Do you have anything other than Thomas?” Skye asks.
Miles looks at her. At Grant. Keeps staring at Grant, like he’s not about to get his teeth knocked out. “Something wrong with the name Thomas?”
Skye shakes her head. “It’s not important. Just change it.”
Miles expression shifts, for a moment. Not so great being left out, is it, Miles? Grant would smirk if he didn’t feel so damn sad.
His brother’s going to know he killed Christian.
“I don’t care if it costs extra,” Grant says. “Just give me a different name.”
Miles lifts his hands in surrender. “Okay, whatever,” Miles says. “Is Lucas okay?”
“Lucas is fine,” Grant says. Skye nods in agreement.
“You should know I don’t charge,” Miles says. “My forgeries are for good, not evil.”
Grant almost laughs at that. He’s interrupted by Skye groaning, “Here we go again.”
“What?” Miles says. “I’ve helped hundreds of people with fake passports. If I took money for it, do you know what that would make me?”
“Fiscally savvy,” Skye says. “Jesus christ, Miles.”
“You know we’re not good guys, right,” Grant says. And not just because he’s uncomfortable with the term.
“You’re mercenaries,” Miles says. “And I’d never take your job. But you’ve done some good.”
“We killed a senator,” Skye says. Almost guiltily. Has she been feeling it too, then?
“I figured,” Miles says. “Senator Ward dies, you text me out of the blue for passports. I’m not an idiot.”
“He was my brother,” Grant says. He shouldn’t, but this kind of feels like confession hour. Like they have to get it all out before they can move forward. Skye and her ex. Grant and his brothers.
Miles lets out a low whistle. “Fratricide,” Miles says. “Hardcore, dude.”
“So you read a book,” Skye says. “Congratulations.”
Miles gives Skye a smile that Grant is entirely unhappy with. “He was as dirty as they get, you know.” His eyes flicker to Grant.
“I know,” Grant says. “I always did.”
“It can’t feel good,” Miles says. “Having so much blood on your hands.”
“It feels fine, Miles,” Skye says. “We’re not having this discussion.”
“Maybe I’m not talking to you,” Miles says. “Maybe I gave up on you a while ago.”
Skye reels before Grant can even register what’s been said. “I’m sorry I don’t abide by your hippie-dippie bullshit,” she says. “I’m sorry I picked a gun over a laptop. That I preferred money to this, Miles.”
“Wait,” Grant says. “How long have you two known each other for?”
Skye doesn’t look at him. “A while.”
Something catches in Grant’s throat. Something like he’s been caught in the middle of another one of Skye’s secrets, and he doesn’t know what to do.
He could try punching Miles. That might help.
“You’ll always be welcome here,” Miles says, softly. “I know you’re not a bad guy. I know you’re doing this for the greater good.”
Skye shoots him a glare. “Don’t romanticize me.”
Miles just shrugs. “Old habit.”
“It’s a bad one,” Skye says.
There’s an unsteady silence. Grant is really not convinced that punching wouldn’t fix this. He’s almost positive it would.
“What about me?” Grant asks, suddenly. “I’ve been killing longer than she has. Do you want to give me a passport?”
For a moment, Miles studies his face. “If she thinks you’re worth it, then I do,” Miles says.
Grant opens his mouth to protest.
“Don’t ask why,” Miles says. “Just how it is.”
“I killed my brother,” Grant says, again. Has he even said it out loud before? Should he?
“He probably deserved it,” Miles says, rising from the table. “Before we take photos, do you want coffee? Tea?”
“Are you going to be a snob about the coffee beans the second you serve it to us?” Skye asks. There’s that knowing smirk again. Grant might just have to adjust to it.
“I make no promises. Grant, coffee?”
Grant nods, despite himself. He could really use a cup of coffee, actually.
“How do you take it?”
“Milk,” Grant says. “No sugar.”
“Soy milk good?” Miles says. “Because it’s all I’ve got.”
He looks at Skye for a moment. Another inside joke. Grant takes a deep breath. “Soy’s fine.”
“Killer,” Miles says.
“Phrasing, Miles,” Skye says, as Miles heads to his kitchen counter.
“I know what I said,” Miles says.
Grant doesn’t know what to say at all.
—
Skye is taking her last pee before they leave, and that leaves Grant alone at the table with Miles.
“I have a favor to ask,” Miles says. “For the passports.”
“You said you didn’t charge,” Grant says. “You’re doing it for the ‘greater good.’” He tries not to sound mocking. Hard to do with airquotes.
“Exactly,” Miles says. “And your greater good is keeping Skye safe.”
Grant bristles. “Like I’d do anything else.”
“You really are such a he-man,” Miles says. “All brawn.”
“Are you calling me stupid?” Grant asks. “Because I promise you, I’m not.”
“You’re not stupid,” Miles replies. “Skye wouldn’t love you if you were.”
“Are you trying to be the bigger man right now?” Grant says. “Because Skye wouldn’t appreciate the sentiment of you passing her over to me, or whatever.”
“I know,” Miles says. “I’m not passing her over. She made her own choice.”
“And you’re not going to stop her,” Grant says.
“Never could,” Miles says.
Grant hates that tone. It says too many things. It says ‘I know Skye better than you ever will.‘ He hates it. “Those passports better not be a bust,” Grant says. “Or we’ll come back and-”
“Shoot my head off,” Miles says. “I’ve heard the routine.”
“You wouldn’t sell her out,” Grant says.
“I wouldn’t sell you out, either,” Miles says. He looks Grant in the eye. It’s kind of unsettling. “You’re not the bad guy.”
“Why?” Grant asks. “Because Skye loves me?”
Miles shrugs. “My logic isn’t always perfect,” he says. “Just most of the time. Please. Look after her.”
Grant has a response for that. He just has to think of it. He’s almost got it-
“Are you guys done fighting over me?” Skye asks. Her hand’s on Grant’s shoulder, her chin on his head. “I think Grant and I have a plane to catch.”
“You’re going across the border, right?” Miles says. “Because there’s this place that makes enchiladas that-”
“We are not stopping for enchiladas, Miles,” Skye says.
Grant rises from his seat. Picks up his duffle bag. “I dunno,” he says. “We could.”
“You’re going to get us extradited over enchiladas,” Skye says. “I can’t fucking believe it.”
“You’ll be fine,” Miles says, standing. “You always are.”
Grant double-checks his bag for the passports and nods. “Thanks,” Grant says. “We’ll be in touch.”
“Not too much,” Miles says. “The feds are everywhere.”
“Oh my God,” Skye says.
Grant looks at his shoes. “I’ll be outside. You guys should say goodbye.”
Skye grabs his wrist. “No need,” Skye says. She gives Miles a curt nod. “Thank you for the passports, Mye. I appreciate it.”
“Of course,” Miles says.
And that’s it. It feels entirely unfinished, really. Skye leading him by the wrist, out of the apartment. Didn’t she have more to say? He’s trying to help. It’s weird for him, but he is.
“So,” Skye says. “Where’re we flying to?”
“I was thinking Macau,” he says.
Skye’s holding his hand, and that has to mean something. “I guess my Canto’s pretty good.”
“Your Canto’s fine,” he says. “We won’t be able to stay too long without getting tailed, but I thought it would be nice.”
“Second honeymoon?” Skye asks.
She looks so excited about it. She looks like she’s really, truly letting go.
So why can’t he? What the hell is holding him back?
He smiles. Leans forward. “Second honeymoon,” he agrees, and seals the promise with a kiss.
She wraps her arms around his neck. Pulls him deeper into the kiss. She’s flush against him, tugging at his hair. Whining in the back of her throat.
He breaks the kiss, breathless. And he’s very rarely left breathless by anything.
“Sounds great,” she says.
And it does.
So why isn’t he happier about it?
Skye squeezes his hand. He shuts his eyes for a moment, and squeezes back.