Griff's eyes narrowed. "The Admiral wants what?"
"Nothing," everyone said simultaneously.
Before he could press, Doc swept in with a basket that smelled like heaven. "Real food, not hospital garbage."
She shooed everyone out, then threw herself down in Sarah's chair. "Griffin, you're an idiot."
"Thanks, Doc."
"That woman adores you. And you're going to let her walk away because of some misguided nobility?"
"She deserves better."
"She deserves choice. Her choice. Not yours made for her." Doc stood. "Figure it out, Griffin. Before it's too late."
The team filtered back in with Sarah, who'd returned with coffee for everyone. Axel now sported a new forehead bruise.
"Automatic door," Sarah explained.
Axel looked annoyed. "It was aggressive."
As they ate Doc's food and swapped stories, Griff watched Sarah integrate seamlessly with his family. Laughing at Axel's disasters. Discussing technical details with Zara. Being gently teased by everyone about the bear spray.
She belonged here. With them.
With him.
But how could he ask her to give up a normal life for their brand of chaos?
On the TV, a breaking news banner scrolled: FBI DEPUTY DIRECTOR ARRESTED IN CONNECTION TO CHARLESTON CONSPIRACY.
"That's got to be who ordered Sarah to Montana," Finnsaid, pulling up his laptop. "Give me five minutes, I'll have the full connection."
Sarah went still. Being betrayed by someone in her own organization had kind of fallen by the wayside with all the chaos and gunfire.
He knew how it felt, being betrayed by one of your own. He reached for her hand. She took it without hesitation.
Doc was right. More right than she knew. Sarah deserved to make her own choice. And if he lost out, so be it. The pain of losing her was worth the risk.
41
The next morningcame with good news—Griff was being discharged. Sarah had spent the night in the uncomfortable visitor's chair, refusing to leave despite the nurses' suggestions about the hotel across the street. She'd almost lost him. She wasn't going anywhere.
Doc had texted late in the evening. In light of the circumstances, the Bureau insisted Sarah take as much leave as she needed to recover.
So she had time. She could stay until Griff made it clear he was ready to move on.
Now she sat in the hospital cafeteria with Doc, both holding cups of coffee that could strip paint.
"This is terrible," Sarah said, taking another sip anyway.
Her mentor studied her with those sharp eyes that missed nothing. "You didn't sleep."
"Neither did you."
"I'm old. I don't need sleep. You're young and in love."
Sarah nearly choked on the awful coffee. "Doc?—"
