“Exactly,” she said. “So let’s not.”
He shifted onto his back, staring up at the ceiling for a second before he spoke. “I’m going into something ugly. Krueger’s fingerprints are all over it, but he’s not the only problem. There are people who think they’re untouchable. I can’t promise it’llbe clean. I can’t promise it’ll be quick. And I sure as hell can’t promise it’ll be safe.”
He turned his head to look at her. “What I can promise is that I’m going to do everything in my power to come back to you. Not just alive. Whole. Or as close as I can get.”
Her eyes burned. “That’s what I needed. Not the odds. Just the truth.”
He reached up and brushed a tear from the corner of her eye with his thumb. “I need something from you too. Two things.”
“Demanding,” she murmured, trying for light.
“First one is to promise me you won’t chase this on your own. Not Krueger. Not the network. Not some solo hero mission because you’re cleared to fly again.”
She opened her mouth.
He cut her off. “With your unit, with your people? Yes. On your own? No.”
She watched him, saw the fear under the order. He had to be thinking about her broken on a stretcher. “I’m not going to sit still.”
“I know, and I don’t want you to. Honestly? Knowing you’re out there flying, being you will keep me sane. But I need to know you’ve got a team at your back. That you’re not in the sky alone.”
She swallowed. “Okay, I promise, no solo missions.” Then, because it seemed important, she gave him a sassy smile. “Even if it kills me not to.”
He smiled a little. “Thank you.”
“What’s the second thing?” she asked.
He hesitated. “Don’t… put your life on pause for me.”
Her brow furrowed. “Dante?—”
“Listen,” his voice dropped, “I’m not saying ‘move on’ or any of that other nonsense. I’m saying… keep living. Keep flying. Keep being annoying to your COs and terrifying to your enemies. Go out with your brother. Eat carbs.” His mouth quirked. “Don’tsit by the window and wait for a phone call. If something happens… you’re allowed to keep going.”
She stared at him then shook her head, almost in disbelief. “You’re in my bed telling me you love me and also giving me permission to survive you?”
His throat worked. “Pretty much.”
“You’re an idiot,” she said softly.
He smiled. “Fair.”
She pushed herself up onto one elbow, body protesting a little, and looked down at him,. “All right, here’s my counteroffer.”
“I’m listening.”
“You go. You do what you do. You come back. We both keep breathing and bleeding and working while you’re gone. No martyr speeches. No tragic music.” Her eyes softened. “And when you get back, we figure out what this is without a stopwatch hanging over us.”
He reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, fingers lingering at her jaw. “And what is it?”
She didn’t look away. “It’s not casual. It’s not temporary. It’s not something I forget how to want when you’re not in the room.”
“So what is it?” he pushed gently.
“It’s you.” She inhaled. “It’s us. It’s... real.”
He blew out a breath like she’d just pulled a trigger, not in a bad way, but in afinallyway. “Okay. I can work with real.”
She smiled, small but sure. “Do you have to leave right now?”
