But when I turn…there he is.
My so-calledfriend.
Anton Easton.
Six foot five, broad shoulders, leather bomber jacket open. That same composed intensity in his bright blue eyes that silences a room without a word. He sweeps the space, and his gaze finds mine.
My legs almost forget how to hold me up.
My breath catches. The room drops away, sound thinning to nothing.
For one suspended heartbeat, I understand how fragile the wordfriendreally is.
2
I can hearthe music before I reach the door—low country rhythm— and laughter spilling through the cracks in the wood. Echo Valley’s Wild Cantina never changes. It’s loud, warm, a little gritty. Not my scene. Not anymore. But I’d walk that sticky floor every damn day if I knew she was in there.
Freya.
She’s back.
I like to think I’m pretty good at dealing with loss. Lost my parents. Lost brothers in the SEALs. Hell, I lost my wife and my best friend in one go—though that was the easy one by comparison. They deserved to be cutout of my life.
But from the moment I told Freya about the LAPD Academy openings to the minute she left, a part of me—even knowing how amazing it would be for her—wanted to take it back. I’d never be so selfish as to take away someone’s purpose, but part of me hoped she’d find some in those few stakeouts we had together, as I had.
I loved her being there. The way her mahogany eyes glowed with intrigue and curiosity. The way she could hold those binoculars longer than I could, eyes fixed, sharp and unblinking. The scent she brought into that warm, already dewy truck cab made me think of the place more like a bedroom than a workspace.
To top it off, she wasn’t just intrigued—she was intriguing. She was a survivor. Filled with gratitude for life that most people take for granted. Still looking at the future wide-eyed and determined.
I’m not that old, but some of that youthful hope has drained out of my veins over the years, and being around her made me think…maybe the world isn’t done surprising me.
That was a feeling I really liked being around. It did something to me. After the SEALS, after years in captivity, and admittedly, becoming somewhat jaded thanks to that, Freya breathed life into me. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed feeling alive until then.
But there’s a fine line between being alive and being restless. I got the impression she was both and knew she was still searching for her purpose. A purpose I was certain this tiny town didn’t hold for her.
I’d already learned the hard way what happens when you commit to an unfulfilled woman.
They leave.
They stray.
They ruin your ability to trust.
And that’s why even long distance with Freya wouldn’t be an option for me.
I take the old, metal handle in my grip.
I shouldn’t let these thoughts resurface. Freya’s probably completely moved on and is consumed by her new, intense, and fast-paced life in LA.
Shit. I get it. I love a fast-paced life.
I just thought maybe my next chase should be a little smaller.
Maybe a kid.
But since I don’t think I can let myself get deep with a woman anytime soon, that seems unlikely.
Why does being near Freya always drum up these deep questions I’m so good at keeping buried?
