“Their rank-”
“Doesn’t change the fact that they’re penny pinching assholes,” he says with a wink. “Rank doesn’t change character.”
I nod, then catch up to Hailey without difficulty. She’s studying the doors one by one, reading the plaques like they’re written in a language she hasn’t learned yet. I stop beside her, clasping my hands behind my back—discipline, muscle memory—to keep from reaching for her without thinking.
She looks up.
Her eyes widen slightly, breath catching just enough to register. Under the warm yellow hallway lights, her hazel eyes turn almost entirely gold. My gaze drops before I can stop it—just for a second—to her mouth. Soft. Parted. Pink from concentration, not invitation.
The sight hits harder than it should.
Heat coils low and immediate, my body reacting with blunt, unmistakable intent. I lock my jaw, forcing stillness, forcing control, acutely aware of how close she is and how badly my instincts want to close that distance.
She smells faintly clean, warm—soap and something softer. Her blonde hair frames her face in loose strands that beg to be brushed back, touched, tested for reality.
“Hailey.”
“Captain,” she whispers.
“You could be talking to any captain by just using the title,” I inform, control getting slowly back in place.
“I think you’re the only captain I know who really insists on the title,” she says, not accusing, just noticing.
“I worked hard for it,” I reply. “It took years. A lot of saying no to things that would’ve been easier.” I glance at her. “It matters to me.”
She nods. “That makes sense.” Then, after a moment, “I didn’t mean it like a criticism. I just… I can’t pictureyoubehind a desk all day, following rules someone else made.”
“I don’t just sit behind a desk,” I say. “But structure is part of the job. Clear expectations. Clear paths.”
She frowns slightly as she walks. “That’s the part I struggle with. Structure sounds comforting, but also limiting. Like once you step onto a path, you’re expected to stay on it.”
“You don’t like being told who you’re supposed to become, uh?” I speak.
She looks at me, surprised. “No. I really don’t.”
“I think uncertainty makes things harder,” I reply. “But probably it also gives you more room to choose.”
She slows a little. “That’s exactly it. Everyone around me seems so sure. Enlist. Get a job. Settle down. I feel behind because I don’t know yet.”
“Well, not knowing isn’t the same as failing,” I say.
She exhales. “Try telling my dad that.”
I gesture toward the door she’s been looking for. “That’s the office.”
“Thanks,” she says, then hesitates. “Can I ask you something?”
“Yes.”
“Do you ever wonder if following a system makes you miss parts of yourself?”
I consider that, rubbing my jaw. “Sometimes. But it also gave me a foundation to stand on.”
She nods slowly. “I think I’m still looking for mine.”
Her hand brushes my wrist as she steps away. Brief. Unintentional. But it lands.
“Thank you for helping me,” she says. “I know you’re busy.”
