And just like that, we step out into the night together.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Breaker
I have stormed sand-choked opium dens in the Helmand Province and traded fists with bikers who’d murder their own grandmothers for a half-ounce of crank, but not once in my life have I felt as exposed as I do standing in the foyer of Les Lumières, the most pretentious restaurant in a fifty-mile radius of Ironwood Falls. The place is all glass and dark wood and lighting that makes everyone and everything look expensive, even the napkins. It smells like everything I can’t pronounce and a few things I’m afraid to try. My reflection in the brass-framed mirror makes me look like a bouncer who snuck in on a dare.
The hostess smiles, glancing past me to Sparrow. I get it: she lights up the room like a stained-glass window at sunrise. Her hair’s hanging in these lush curls, and she’s in this dress that does things to my pulse I’d rather not have to explain to the hostess, or the string quartet playing in the next room. Sparrow’s eyes are moving a mile a minute, soaking up everything from the starched tablecloths to the way the servers sweep by like they’re on rails. She clings to my arm, and for the first time in ages, I feel a deep sense of peace — as if I’m just a lucky man out on a date with a beautiful woman.
She looks at me as if I just handed her the entire world.
“That dress,” I murmur, offering my arm. “You’re killing me, Sparrow.”
She blushes, soft pink blooming across her cheeks. “This is… wow, Breaker. I’ve never been anywhere like this.”
“Alessia recommended it,” I admit. “Figured she knows fancy better than I ever will.”
She laughs, delighted. “Good call.”
We reach our table, which is tucked into a cove by these floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the falls outside the city. I catch Sparrow’s breath — audible, like she’s just been handed a puppy — when she sees the river lit up by white fairy lights outside. I pull out her chair and she stammers a little “thank you,” which makes my chest ache in a way that is deep, intense, and perfect.
When the server comes for our drink orders, Sparrow orders a glass of red wine.
I consider doing the same, but then I remember who the hell I am. “I’ll have a beer.”
“What kind, sir? We have a local IPA, an imperial stout from Dunkhauser brewery in Portland, and a crisp lager from the La Malpolon brewery in Lavérune, France.”
“Whichever one you recommend. Just bring it to me cold and in a glass.”
The server nods with only the slightest pause.
Sparrow covers her smile with her hand. “Really?”
“What?” I shrug. “Wine feels too… fragile. Beer’s honest.”
“Honest. I like that,” she says, and her grin could light up half the town.
We talk while we wait for food. Easy, gentle conversation. The kind I never knew I could have with anyone. The kind that makes me forget about the ghosts on my shoulders.
Then Sparrow tilts her head, looking at me as if she’s memorizing my face. It’s not the first time tonight, or even the tenth, and each time it happens I feel my insides get rearranged like a bomb’s been set off with surgical precision. I can’t decide if it’s exhilarating or terrifying.
“So… how did you get the nickname ‘Breaker’?”
“Thought you’d never ask.”
She leans in, chin resting on her hand. “Tell me.”
“It was in the Marines,” I say. “I worked demolitions. Bomb disposal, breaching, the whole deal.” I take a sip of my beer. “There was this training exercise where you had to defuse a device under a time limit. Record was…” I whistle low. “Damn near impossible.”
She watches me, eyes soft, beaming.
“I beat it,” I say. “By eight seconds.” A chuckle escapes me. “One guy yelled out, ‘Record breaker,’ and it stuck. Became just Breaker after a while. Most Marines can’t handle a four-syllable nickname.”
“You were proud of it,” she whispers.
I nod. “Yeah. Felt good… All of it did. Well, most of it. It felt like I was doing something that mattered. It gave me a sense of purpose. I was keeping these people that I loved safe, protecting them from dangers that they couldn’t see. Making sure they went home.”
Except not all of them did. My throat tightens, my voice cracks on that last word.
