But then she shook her head, shutters slamming back down. “Doesn’t matter.”
“It does to me.”
She gave a bitter, crooked almost-smile. “You’re leaving, Jackson.”
Yeah. That was the anvil over both our heads. I stepped closer. Just a fraction. Enough that her shoulder almost brushed my chest. “Holly,” I said, slow and raw. “I’m leaving. I’m not disappearing.”
She looked away like the words hurt. “It’s not that simple.”
“I know.”
I forced a laugh, rough around the edges. “I’m not simple. You’re not simple. Nothing about us is simple.”
She scoffed into her coffee. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
We stood in the stillness, steam rising between us. And God, I wanted to reach for her. Wanted to tuck that messy hair behind her ear. Wanted to pull her close and pretend basic training didn’t exist. Instead, I poured myself another cup of coffee and said, “Let’s go outside. Air’s good this early.”
She hesitated. Then nodded once. We stepped out onto the porch, lake fog curling around our ankles. For a moment, we just stood there, side by side, watching the world wake up.
She whispered, “I’m scared.”
I turned to look at her, heart thudding. “Of me?”
“No.” Her voice cracked. “Of…wanting something. He hurt me, Jackson. Badly.”
My throat tightened, I gripped my cup so hard I was surprised it didn’t crack. “I know. But Holly…I would never hurt you. Never.”
She looked out over the lake and her next words were so quiet I wasn’t sure I heard them. “I think I am starting to get that.”
Our shoulders touched. Light. Barely. Like a promise neither of us was brave enough to say out loud yet. Then the cabin door behind us banged open.
“Good morning, children!” Dalton hollered. “Who wants eggs?!”
Holly sighed dramatically. “And the moment is dead.”
I couldn’t stop the grin. “Yeah. He’s good for that.”
She hid her smile behind her mug. But she smiled. And that felt like winning something I didn’t even know I’d been competing for.
Breakfast with the guys was always a feral experience, but this morning it felt like it was happening in slow motion. Mac stood at the stove flipping pancakes with the precision of a neurosurgeon. Dalton was aggressively stealing them off the cooling rack like a raccoon in human form. Diego sat at the table, rubbing sleep out of his eyes while Maria loudly proclaimed that coffee was, in fact, not bad for pregnant women in moderation and then poured herself a cup that nearly overflowed. And Holly padded around the kitchen in those damn silk pajamas, sipping her dessert-in-a-mug coffee, avoiding eye contact with me like looking at me too long might melt something she didn’t want melted.
The whole place smelled like syrup and butter and safety. I should have felt peaceful. Instead, something ugly and electric twisted tight beneath my ribs. Five days. I had five days before I left. Before I wasn’thereanymore. Before early mornings meant drill instructors screaming, and not Holly with bedhead and creamer breath. Before the only people I saw were strangers in uniforms—not Mac, not Dalton, not Diego, not Maria. Not her.My fork hovered halfway to my mouth before I noticed I hadn’t taken a bite in five minutes.
“Jackson,” Dalton said around a mouthful of stolen pancake, “you good?”
It was such a stupid question. Such a Dalton question. The easy answer—the lie—stuck in my throat. “—yeah,” I managed.
Diego looked up, sharper than the rest. “He’s thinking again. Dangerous.”
“Shut up,” I muttered, but it came out tired.
Mac slid into the seat across from me, tapping his fingers against the table. “Five days.”
I didn’t ask how he knew what was in my head. Mac always knew.
“Big change,” he said softly. “It’s ok to freak out about it.”
Dalton snorted. “I freaked out when I lost my favorite hoodie. This is, like, ten times worse.”
