She tilted her head. “You should put that in your nextOperationmovie. It would be a total hit.”
“Yeah?”
“I can see it.” She spread her hands in the air. “Operation: Clandestine Craft.”
He burst out laughing. And sobered just as fast. “Strangely enough, my knitting prowessisfeatured in the next movie. The one we’ve just completed.”
“Yes?”
“Hmm. It’s based on Silas Kent’s life. He’s the SEAL who trained me.”
Her brow furrowed. “Something happened to him, didn’t it?”
He nodded slowly, his throat tightening. “He suffered from PTSD. It led to his eventual suicide.”
She stilled, the softness in her eyes replacing her earlier humor. “I’m so sorry, Justin. That must’ve hit you hard.”
“Yeah. It did.” His voice roughened. “The suicide rate among veterans is staggering.”
Her expression deepened with tenderness. “I think it’s incredible that you’re honoring him.”
“The honor was mine,” he murmured. “Learning from him.”
“What is the movie called?”
“A Soldier’s Echo.”
“Wow. That’s … perfect.”
He shook his head lightly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to dampen the mood.”
“It’s fine.” She hesitated, her voice softening. “It … helps to air things out sometimes.”
He nodded slowly, a small weight settling in his chest. He found himself wondering what her things were. What shadows she carried, what stories she kept tucked away.
Maybe, if he was lucky, she’d trust him enough to share them.
Someday. But today wasn’t that day.
Silence settled between them, soft but weighted.
She shifted in her chair, drawing one leg beneath her, the sunlight catching in the fine strands of hair escaping her twist.
It struck him that she wore no jewelry today — earlobes bare, bracelets silent, no stacked chains or beads catching the light. And that made him think of the lovely pendant he’d seen in the hotel’s little gift shop. He wasn’t sure what stone it was, only that the blue matched her eyes. With Christmas only a few days away and no gift yet for her, it felt like a sign. A visit was due.
“I can feel you staring,” she said without looking at him, her voice mild but carrying that quiet amusement he was beginning to recognize as her defense.
“Can you?” he murmured, leaning back. “I’m just enjoying the view. Besides, we both needed a minute.”
He studied her profile — the quiet strength in the set of her jaw, the faint shadows beneath her eyes — and felt something twist inside him.
It took everything in him to not haul her onto his lap and promise to take care of her for the rest of her life. Instead, he lifted his mug, inhaled the sharp scent of coffee, and let the silence stretch between them.
10
This. Just this.
Justin bringing her food. Sitting beside her. Giving her the space to breathe without asking for anything in return.
