Athena cussed the next second when Ewan's image filtered into her mind then — uninvited, vivid, and warm. It was like she had summoned him by claiming he was bad.
She saw clearly: him pushing their little boy on a swing, their laughter tangled in the breeze and dwindling sunlight. It hit her like a blow, that moment suspended in time, the way his face had softened as he looked at Nathaniel, how he'd wiped the sweat off his brow with one hand while steadying the swing with the other. Her chest clenched.
And then another image — the flash of Ewan's arms around her, saving her from the collapsing scaffolding days ago, his firm voice barking orders, his hand on her back. He had saved her life more than twice, Aiden too, and that included the mission.
He had been present. He had shown up when it mattered. How could she claim him worse? Should a man be judged by his past alone?
