The words land hard. "Sir?"
"You might want to wait for her before you make any decisions. Cain's office, fifteen minutes."
I report to Cain's office at the designated time. Andi's already there with papers in her hand and her eyes bright. She stops short when she sees me, then looks at Cain with an expression somewhere between joy and disbelief.
"Did you know about this?" Andi asks, waving the papers.
"I may have been consulted," Cain says. "What does it say?"
"Joint Expeditionary Base Tidewater wants to contract me for coastal erosion impact assessment." The words come fast, her professional composure replaced by enthusiasm. "Beach and wetland management for SEAL operations, habitat protocols for maritime environments, research on coastal dynamics and military applications. It's everything I've been working toward, expanded to a completely new ecosystem."
She looks at me and sees the orders in my hand. Her eyes widen.
"You're going to Tidewater," she says.
"K9 Unit Command. They want me to build the program."
"When?"
"A month."
Her smile comes fast and genuine. "My contract starts in a month too."
The relief hits my chest like a physical blow. We're not choosing. We're not separating. We're both advancing, both heading to the same place.
"Congratulations to you both," Cain says, standing and extending her hand first to me, then to Andi. "Tidewater is fortunate. Ridgeway will miss you, but this is the right move for both your careers."
"Thank you, ma'am," I say. "For everything. The opportunity here, the support during the investigation, the recommendation."
"You earned it." She turns to Andi. "Both of you did. Now get out of my office and go celebrate."
We leave, Andi practically bouncing as we cross the base toward the K9 facility where Duke is waiting. The afternoon air carries the smell of cut grass and jet fuel, summer heat radiating off the tarmac in visible waves. An F-16 screams overhead on approach, the sound rattling in my chest.
"JEB Tidewater," Andi says. "I've read about their coastal training operations. The erosion patterns there are unique because of how the bay currents interact with Atlantic tides. The research possibilities are incredible."
"Holden's stationed there," I tell her. "Holden Lange. He's a SEAL Team leader. We've crossed paths over the years. Good guy."
"Have you talked to him recently?" Andi asks.
"Few months back." I leave out the part where Holden was dealing with his own situation and I told him to stop hesitating."He knows about you. Probably has opinions about us showing up at his base."
"Good opinions or bad opinions?" Andi slips her hand into mine.
"With Holden, hard to tell the difference." But having someone familiar at Tidewater will make the transition easier. Someone who can give us the inside track on operations, who to know, where to live off base.
We reach the K9 facility. Duke greets us at the fence with his tail wagging hard enough to move his entire back end. I open the gate and he goes straight to Andi for attention, pushing his massive head under her hand.
"Hey, Duke," she says, crouching to his level. "Guess what? We're moving. New base, new ocean to explore, new places for you to patrol. You ready?"
Duke's tail wags harder. My partner has always been smart about reading situations, and he's been reading Andi as pack since the first time he met her.
"You and me," Andi says, looking up at me with those green eyes that still catch me off guard sometimes.
"You, me, and Duke," I correct, nodding toward my partner who's watching us with alert eyes.
She laughs, the kind of genuine sound that means she's happy. "Right. The whole pack."
That evening, after we've told Maggie the news and endured her tears and fierce hugs and insistence that we visit often, Andi and I drive back to Ridgeway. We park near the airfield where we can watch operations, Duke sprawled in the back seat. The sun drops toward the horizon, turning the sky orange and pink, and the air smells like hot asphalt and aviation fuel.
