Cruz gives me a look that says he doesn't believe me for a second. "Take five. Hydrate. Then we're running the cliff traverse."
I jog toward the water station, which is right next to the medical tent. Serena's back is to me as I approach. I take the opportunity to drink her in. My eyes devour the curve of her neck, the way her ponytail swings when she moves, the strip of skin visible between her scrubs and her waistband when she reaches for something on the top shelf.
Focus, Reynolds. You're here to work.
"Nurse Logan." I keep my voice neutral. "How's the new assignment treating you?"
She turns, and for a split second I see a heat in her eyes before she catches herself. But the mask slides back into place just as quickly.
"Instructor Reynolds." She hands me a water bottle without making eye contact. "It’s fine over here. Quiet so far. Your recruits seem competent."
"They're green. Give it time." I unscrew the cap and take a long drink, watching her over the rim. "You looked bored out there."
"I'm not here to be entertained. I'm here in case someone gets hurt."
"Would it be unprofessional if I said I hope someone does? Just so I can watch you work?"
Her jaw tightens. "Extremely unprofessional."
"Good thing we're alone, then."
"We're not alone." She nods toward the training field, where two dozen recruits and half a dozen instructors are very much present. "We're never alone out here, Blaze. That's the point."
She's right. And I hate it.
Before I can respond, Cruz's whistle cuts through the air.
"Reynolds! Cliff traverse! Now!"
I hold her gaze for one more second. "This isn't over."
"I know," she says again.
Then I'm jogging back toward the field. Her eyes burn a hole in my back the entire way.
The cliff traverse is a standard exercise. I rappel down a sixty-foot rock face, navigating a series of obstacles, and then climbing back up using only natural handholds. I've done it a hundred times.
But today, I do it wrong.
I'm halfway down the rock face when my grip slips. It's a rookie mistake. I'm thinking about Serena instead of my footing. My hand catches a loose chunk of shale instead of solid rock.
I catch myself on the rope and swing hard into the cliff face before my training kicks in. My shoulder wrenches at a bad angle. Then a jagged rock tears through my sleeve and slices across my forearm.
"Reynolds!" Cruz's voice echoes from above. "You good?"
I grit my teeth against the pain. "Fine. Just a scrape."
It's not just a scrape and I know it.
Blood is already soaking through my sleeve, and my shoulder is screaming in a way that suggests I've done something stupid to the rotator cuff. But nothing hurts more than my ego. I finish my descent.
By the time I reach the bottom, Serena is already running toward me and that somehow makes it worse. There’s possession and a fierce, burning tenderness in her eyes that nearly breaks me. Something primal surges in my chest.
She’s mine completely. Even when she's fighting it, even when she's scared. But I’m hers too.
"Let me see." Serena’s all business. She grabs my arm before I can protest.
Her fingers are gentle but firm as she pushes up my sleeve. I watch her face as she examines the damage. She doesn't flinch at the blood. Just assesses this situation with calm competence.
