“You’ve got two more years at West Point before you earn that right,” Mike shot back dryly, then flicked a dollop of mash at him with the spatula.
Shannon smirked but kept her hands busy. It was strange how natural it felt. The three of them in the same room. Cooking. Laughing. No pressure. No uniforms. Just…being.
“Ford should be here by now.” Mike glanced at his watch. “He promised he wouldn’t bail. He wanted to see you before you head to Fort Novosel.”
“Maybe traffic,” Sam offered. “I mean, D.C. on a Friday?”
“Or maybe,” Shannon wiped her hands on a towel, “he finally decided to skip dinner with the Johnsons and do something normal like date a girl.”
Mike arched an eyebrow. “Ford? Normal?”
But then the front door opened. Not a knock. Just entry.
Mike’s posture shifted a little bit, and Shannon saw it. He handed the spatula to Sam, wiped his hands, and stepped toward the hallway.
“Dad, it’s okay,” Shannon called. “It’s just Ford.”
Ford Cox entered the kitchen, suitcoat off, relaxed as ever, but he wasn’t alone. Behind him, wearing pressed khakis and an unreadable expression, was Dante Olivo. “Hi, Shannon.”
Shannon’s breath caught.
Dante stood still, eyes steady on hers. Not uniformed. Not in the shadows. Just there. Real. Present.
“What the hell?” she whispered. “You’re not supposed to be here.”
Mike stepped in from the side, voice even. “He is.”
Shannon turned to her father. “You knew.”
“I did,” Mike said quietly. “We both did.”
Her eyes flicked between them—Mike, Ford, Dante. Her heart kicked faster. All those years. All those moments. The presence she always felt, the gaze she couldn’t shake, the rescues that didn’t make sense.
“How long?” she asked, voice sharp with realization.
Ford folded his arms. “Since BCT. Technically, before.”
“You were watching me?” Her voice cracked, heat in her throat. “This whole time?”
“Protecting you,” Mike said gently. “Positioned. Assigned. Authorized.”
“Without telling me.” She turned to Dante now. “You… every time I thought you just happened to be there.” Her fists clenched, but her shoulders stayed high. “You lied.”
Dante stepped forward finally. “I followed orders, but not once did I ever lie to you.”
Her jaw clenched. She didn’t know whether to throw the dish towel at him or walk out. But something behind her ribs held her in place. Desire. Because it had always been him. Because it explained everything.
“Why now?” she asked, quieter. “Why tell me now?”
Mike looked at her. No filters now. Just a father and the daughter who’d survived four years of silence. “Because you earned it.”
Ford nodded. “And because what comes next… we won’t be able to protect you the same way.”
Shannon looked at Dante, at this version of him, unmasked, and the full truth sank in.
He’d never left.
She’d been built to survive. Her dad made sure of it. And Dante stayed.
