❝ EXCUSE ME, I HAVE TO GO KILL SOMEONE. ❞
❝ I REALLY HOPE SHE'S TALKING FIGURATIVELY. ❞
( BOOK TWO of FIGHT OR FLIGHT )
Scout Wiley was once in love with the abyss. It was her mistake for getting too comfortable. She knew she shouldn't have lie...
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9th of October LaMontagne Home Quantico, Virginia
"JJ TOLD ME you were back 'o town but I believed that my ears deceived me. You are one hell of a boomerang, Wiley."
Scout guiltily gave the man a polite smile, rocking back to the balls of her heels. Over the years, she had forgotten the sound of his voice and how smooth it was. But it was comforting, and still oddly thick.
It didn't matter how many years he had lived in Virginia, William LaMontagne Jr. never lost his Cajun accent.
"Boomerangs aren't known to be very trustworthy."
Will bobbed his head back and forth, "Be that as it may, you're still on the front steps of my home. I knew that one day I'd open my door and find you here."
"Sounds like dread." The brunette pursed her lips.
"I call that hope, Dawlin'."
She nodded, chuckling, "If that's your Southern way of saying that you missed me, I'd have to say that's the most pleasant welcome I've received. I think it knocked everyone else's far out of the park. But then again, who could blame them?"
Will opened the door to the LaMontagne slash Jareau household wider, signaling for the female to walk in. She hesitated, not used to the politeness, but walked in anyways.
"You were very close to the team. But our conversations were, to say the least, limited. Your abrupt - departure - affected them far more than it did to me."
Scout shrugged off her coat but looked at him with confused eyes.
"You - You do know what happened right? Like, JJ told you, didn't she? About what I did and who I was?"
"About you shooting at the team, including my wife and first son? Yes, I am very much aware. JJ normally keeps things bottled up inside her but that wasn't the case with you."
"She's always had a sharp tongue. It would have been foolish of me to expect any favoritism."
He lead her into the kitchen where it looked like he had been in the middle of making dinner. The house wasn't as quiet as she had remembered it being years ago. Soft music sounding of strumming guitars played through a speaker, as well as the occasional thumps of footsteps from upstairs in a sudden and fast pace.
The brunette clipped a brow at him, a small smirk pointing towards the noise, "She told me you had another boy. Michael, was it?"
