The early morning air is already hot and heavy. It’s dry, and I can practically taste the dust and diesel on my tongue as I rest against the rough wall of the operations hub. I close my eyes, sucking in a deep breath that does nothing to help.
He’s here.
Hawk is here.
A decade of silence, at least three years spent hating him—and myself for still missing him—and now he’s been thrust back into my life. I press my palms to my face, furious at myself that after all these years I feel anything for him at all.
Boots crunch on the hard, dry sand beside me, and I don’t have to look to know who it is. “Reese.”
“Did you practice that the whole way here?” I scoff. “Saying my name like I mean anything to you.”
“I didn’t know it was you. Not until I stepped in thatroom.” he confesses as I slowly look up his broad chest until our eyes meet. “But I would’ve come anyway.”
“Don’t…” I shake my head and fight back the lump in my throat. “Don’t stand there acting like the last ten years didn’t happen. Like you didn’t vanish and leave me picking up the pieces of what was going to beourlife.”
Something flickers across his face—regret, maybe—but it’s gone far too fast for me to be sure. “I had orders,” he states, finally.
“Orders?” I mockingly laugh. “You had plenty of orders when we were together. None of them kept you from calling for weeks, months, or years.”
“I had to leave.” His voice is low and rough.
“I’m not mad you left.” I swallow hard, forcing myself to stay strong. “It’s that you didn’t come home.”
He lets out a heavy sigh, and for a second, I almost expect him to explain. But he doesn’t. I frustratedly push past him, heading toward the barracks, needing to leave before I drown in old ghosts and feelings I want to rebury. He follows, his boots crunching a few steps behind me. “You don’t have to like me being here, baby. But I’m not going anywhere.”
This time…
I don’t look back. If I do, I might completely fall apart.
The sun is peaking over the horizon as I follow Reese across camp, the dry heat baking through the thin cotton of my shirt. Her boots kick up dust in sharp, angry bursts, matching the fury of her hasty strides. She moves like she used to when sparring with me—all heart and no sense of self-preservation. Ten years, and nothing has changed there.
I trail behind her, far enough she can pretend I’m not there, but close enough to make sure no one else is. It’s the same as I would do for any client. Only instinct has me silently vowing to protect her even though she wants to drive a knife through my ribs.
When she reaches her tent, she tears open the entry and storms into it. I stop a few yards away, watching her disappear inside as the flap falls shut behind her. Dragging a hand down my face, I exhale, “Christ.”
Of all the people Carl could’ve called or Abby could’ve saddled with thisdetail…
If I’m being honest with myself, which I rarely am anymore, there is a small part of me that has been wanting this. Notthis, not under the overly watchful eye of my entire goddamn team, but I have imagined seeing her again. Hell, I’ve dreamed about it—and her—more times than I’ll ever admit. I never imagined she would look at me like I was the enemy, though.
For a long minute, I stand outside her tent, then turn and head back toward the operations hub. The others are waiting, leaning against the armored truck parked beside it. They shoot the shit, like nothing happened, and this isn’t going to be the messiest job we’ve ever taken on. Jagger spots me first, his grin forming before I even reach them. “So,” he drawls, pushing off the truck.
“Don’t start.” I shoulder past him.
He falls into step beside me anyway, his smirk widening into a smile. “I’m just saying, boss. You disappear for a decade, burying yourself in missions and one-night stands around the globe, and then,boom…You walk into a briefing and there she is, needing you to protect her. It’s fucking poetic.”
“Or tragic,” Gunner mutters, pulling our duffel bags from the back of the Humvee and tossing them at each of our feet.
“Definitely tragic,” Damon adds, half laughing, slinging his bag over his shoulder.
Jagger teases, “I swear, man, I’ve never seen you blink like that. You went full deer in the headlights.”
“You done?” I glare at him and lift my bag before starting the trek back to her tent.
“Not even close.” Jagger jogs to catch up to me. “Because now I have questions. We all remember Reese. You talked about her incessantly. Until you didn’t. But not one of us knows why. What the hell kind of problem is this going to be?”
I give him a flat look that usually shuts people up. Except Jagger. It’s never really worked with him, and it just makes him more insistent. As much as I don’t want to, because saying it out loud almost feels like admitting how badly I fucked up, the ghosts in this place are already strangling me.
“She wasn’t just a girl,” I finally share, keeping my voice low. “She wasthegirl. I was going to marry her.”
