I swore. And I meant it. Because David isn’t just some guy. He’s family. He’s been there through everything. And I won’t be the reason his world gets messed up.
By now most of the guys have settled into their usual routines—cards, phones, half-watching some game on the TV mounted crooked on the wall—but I’m still on my bunk, staring up at the ceiling like it’s going to give me answers.
I drag a hand over my face, exhaling slowly, but it doesn’t help. Nothing does. Not the noise, not the exhaustion, not the drills that push my body to the edge until my muscles shake.
Because the second everything goes quiet—She’s there. Her lips. I close my eyes, and it’s like I’m back in that garage all over again.
Soft.
That’s the first thing I remember. Soft and warm and careful, like she knew exactly what she was doing to me and didn’t want to scare me off.
I swallow hard, my chest tightening. I’ve kissed women before. Plenty. But nothing—nothing—has ever felt like that.
It was something deeper than just a kiss. I shift on the mattress, restless.
The worst part?
It wasn’t even a real kiss. Not really.
It was barely anything. A brush. A moment.
And yet?—
I can still feel it. The way she leaned into me. The way her breath hitched just slightly. The way her hand pressed against my chest like she could feel my heartbeat going out of control.
My jaw tightens.
Five more minutes. That’s all it would’ve taken.
Five more minutes and—I cut the thought off, but it’s too late.
Because my mind goes there anyway. The way I almost pulled her closer. The way I was about to deepen the kiss. The way my hand had just started to settle against her waist?—
I sit up abruptly, planting my feet on the floor, elbows braced on my knees.
“Get it together,” I mutter under my breath.
This is exactly what I can’t do. I can’t think about what could’ve happened. I can’t think about what I wanted to do. Because that road doesn’t end anywhere good.
Across the room, Carter glances over. “You good, man?”
“Fine.”
He studies me for a second, like he doesn’t believe it, then shrugs and goes back to whatever game he’s half-paying attention to.
I lean back again, this time keeping my eyes open, staring at the ceiling like I can force my brain to stay here.
The door swings open hard enough to hit the stopper with a loud crack. Every head in the room turns.
Commander Hayes strides in, his expression all business, eyes sweeping over us in a way that instantly shifts the mood. Conversations die. Cards lower. The TV might as well not exist.
“Listen up,” he says.
We’re already moving—sitting up straighter, attention locked in, instincts snapping into place.
“There’s a hurricane forming off the coast,” he continues. “Tracking toward Tidehaven.”
A couple of guys exchange looks.
