“But not that bad.”
I open my eyes and meet his. “I didn’t want it to be that bad.”
There’s a difference.
He studies me like he understands that.
Like he sees more than I’m saying.
“You still went after it,” he says.
“I always go after it.”
A corner of his mouth almost lifts. “Yeah. I’ve noticed.”
Silence settles between us, but it’s different than before. Not tense. Not uncertain.
Real.
“You flew missions like this, didn’t you?” he asks.
That catches me off guard.
I tilt my head slightly. “What kind of missions?”
“Ones where you knew you might not come back.”
I hold his gaze.
Then nod once.
“Fighter jets,” I say. “Combat zones. Targets you don’t get a second shot at.”
His expression shifts, something deeper settling in. “That explains a lot.”
“Like what?”
“The way you move,” he says. “The way you decide.”
A small breath escapes me. “Yeah. You don’t hesitate up there. If you do… you’re done.”
His eyes don’t leave mine. “And down here?”
I take a step closer.
“Same rules.”
We’re close now. Closer than we should be.
Closer than either of us is pretending not to want.
“You’re not alone in this anymore,” he says quietly.
Something in my chest tightens.
Dangerous territory.
“You keep saying that,” I murmur.
