Chapter Thirteen
Crew reached across the truck and settled his hand on Fern’s. She turned her head, a smile on her lips.
“Thanks for picking me up. The Malones are so kind, lending me their vehicle while mine’s in the shop.”
“They wouldn’t have loaned it to you if they didn’t want to. Besides, they let me drive their ranch trucks too.” He saw the hesitation in Fern whenever she was around the family. And he understood what put it there.
She didn’t feel worthy of their time or attention.
He’d spent more than his fair share of days harboring the same kind of feelings, especially when he first entered the program. But it didn’t take long to see that the family was completely genuine—and asked nothing in return but respect.
“Are you nervous about being around the ladies today?” he asked in a low voice he’d use around the horses.
Her chest inflated on a deep breath. She let it out with a noisy sigh and nodded. “It’s silly, I know. My own hangup. But they’re all so beautiful and talented. And I’m just…me.”
He squeezed her hand. “Honey, you are all those things too. And more.”
When she looked at him, he saw the glimmer in her eyes that told him she was trying to believe in herself and what others saw in her.
But he’d been in enough therapy sessions to know healing took time. And she would see what others saw in her when she was ready.
They settled into the drive, a country tune projecting at low volume through the speakers and the breeze washing through the truck from the open windows.
Fern pointed things out along the road—someone’s new fence, a stretch of wildflowers she wanted to harvest seeds from later—and he listened, half to her voice and half to the way it felt to have her beside him, relaxed enough to notice small things again.
When they pulled up in front of the big garage, Felicity came outside to meet Fern.
Fern unbuckled and smiled at him. “I’ll see you in a little while.”
“Have fun,” he replied, meaning it.
She slid out of the truck and was immediately drawn deep in conversation with Felicity, their laughter carrying on the breeze. Crew climbed out, watching her for a second longer than necessary, then turned when a familiar hand clamped onto his shoulder.
“Got a minute?” Gray asked.
His first thought was the team had new intel on Fern’s stalker. Gut tensing, he nodded and followed Gray to a truck parked a few vehicles down.
“Get in.”
Crew did, and he wasn’t surprised when Gray drove to the training facility.
When Crew saw the progress they’d made, he shook his head in awe. “Wow. A lot of the projects are taking shape since I was here a few days back.”
Gray grunted. “We’re nearing the finish line.” He arched a brow at Crew. “Walk with me?”
He nodded, following him into the building. As they entered a room that was almost an exact replica of the war room in the Black Heart Security office, Crew drifted to a stop.
Theo and Denver were already there, standing over a table littered with site plans and printouts.
Gray jerked his chin toward the chair. “We want your eyes on this.” He paused for a beat. “If you’re willing.”
They weren’t giving him commands—they were asking for his advice, same as the ladies were asking Fern’s.
Curiosity pulling him forward, Crew leaned over the table instead of sitting. He scanned the layouts quickly and immediately understood what he was looking at.
Topographical maps of the terrain surrounding the facility, as well as approach angles, terrain markings and even extraction points.
At that moment, Gabe and Upchurch joined them, sliding into seats around the big table.
“Talk to us,” Theo said. “Give us a pilot’s perspective of the land. We’re working on finalizing some of the trainings.”
Crew exhaled slowly, then tapped the map. “Your ingress is too exposed. You come in low here, you’re silhouetted against the ridgeline. Any half-awake shooter is going to spot you.”
Denver frowned. “Alternate?”
“Come in from the west,” Crew said without hesitation. “Terrain masks you longer. You lose ten seconds on approach but gain survivability.”
Gray nodded. “Extraction?”
“You’re planning it like a textbook op,” Crew said. “Real world? You’re going to be late, someone’s going to be bleeding, and comms will be shit inside these mountains. That’s what you need to train for.”
Theo cracked a grin. “I knew you were the right man.”
Crew shifted the map, chest tightening at the praise. “You need a drop-and-go. The aircraft hits the ground just long enough to load bodies, then it’s gone.”
Denver crossed his arms. “Risky.”
“Everything is,” Crew shot back. “You mitigate risk. You don’t eliminate.”
They traded looks. The good kind. The ones that said this is why we asked him here.
Gray leaned his hip against the table. “You see the bigger picture, don’t you?”
Crew straightened slowly.
He did.
Not all of it. Not yet. But pieces were clicking into place—how this could work, where he fit, what he could contribute without ever climbing back into a cockpit. He didn’t want to fly. He knew that now with certainty.
But that didn’t mean he was done.
“Gray has the same experience. Why isn’t he the first option?” Crew slanted a look at Gray.
“I have too many things pulling me in other directions—family, the security agency, the ranch. Government liaisons too. If you’re up for this, we’d love to have you on board, Crew.”
He thought it over and came to a decision in a much shorter time than he would have believed possible. “I can help you plan. Think through contingencies.”
Gabe gave him a satisfied nod. “That’s what we were hoping you’d say.”
Upchurch leaned back in his seat, eyeing Crew as though he’d known all along that he was a shoo-in if they’d bothered to ask his advice.
They wouldn’t be talking to him like this if they didn’t see a place for him.
He spent the next hour walking them through scenarios, using language that felt natural—timelines, fallback routes, worst-case assumptions.
It made him feel useful again.
When they finally broke and the group drifted off to complete other tasks, Gray lingered.
“Hey.” His gray eyes settled on Crew. “One more thing.”
Crew waited.
“I want you standing with me.”
Confusion slipped through his mind.
Gray gave him a firm nod. “At the wedding.”
It took a second for the words to land.
“You mean—”
“I’m asking you to be a groomsman,” Gray clarified. “If you’re willing.”
Crew opened his mouth. Nothing came out.
He hadn’t expected that. Hell, he hadn’t even known he wanted it. His throat tightened unexpectedly, emotion hitting harder than any mission briefing ever had.
Gray clapped him on the back. “No pressure.”
Crew nodded, once. Hard. Then again.
“Yeah,” he managed. “I’d be honored, brother.”
Gray grinned and pulled him into a quick, rough hug before stepping back. “Good.”
Crew stood there a moment after Gray left, staring at the map on the table without really seeing it.
He hadn’t been looking for ties to the Black Heart, hadn’t been searching for more people who had his six.
And yet here it was, offered without conditions, in the most unexpected place.
A family.
They talked over the training logistics on the drive back to the ranch.
Crew stepped out into the sun and spotted Fern on the wide porch, her head bent toward Honor as they talked. She laughed at something, brushing her silky auburn hair behind her ear.
For a moment everything aligned—past, present, whatever came next.
Not in sharp focus.
But enough.
Enough to know he wanted to stay, and he wanted Fern by his side.
For the rest of his days.
* * * * *
Fern perched on the edge of a seat, knees angled together, hands folded in her lap as the women talked over one another in happy, overlapping bursts.
“The barn is perfect. Willow couldn’t have rehabilitated it into a more perfect venue.
” Honor held up a photo of the barn that Fern had never seen but thought was totally right for the occasion.
Willow and her husband Decker stood in front of the wide doors that were thrown open to the afternoon light on their own wedding day.
“We’ll string lights across the beams,” Honor continued.
“And set up the tables along the sides,” Felicity added. “Long ones. Family-style.”
“Definitely long tables,” Willow agreed. “Nobody wants to feel boxed in. Plus, we need space for dancing.”
Fern nodded along, smiling, listening. The air smelled like hay and sun-warmed wood. When she looked toward the lodge, hoping to see Crew, she was rewarded with a slice of blue sky and distant mountains.
She’d assumed—perhaps wrongly?—that she’d only been pulled into this for advice on flowers. Greenery. Some kind of plant-knowledge contribution.
But no one had asked her about centerpieces yet.
They were asking her opinions on everything, like she was one of them.
“What do you think, Fern?” Honor turned toward her. She held up some photos from a magazine.
She took the glossy sheets and studied them with an eye trained for plant species and hardiness. “I think the flowers will last a long time. No wilting on your special day.” She offered a smile.
Honor tilted her head, looking at the photos in Fern’s hand. “Too much greenery? Or not enough?”
Fern opened her mouth, then closed it again.
Something in her chest shifted. Tightened.
And flowed away as she realized these women weren’t judging her or looking down on her. That was a leftover echo from Chris talking.
“I—” She cleared her throat. “I think greenery always softens things. Makes it feel lived-in. Like it belongs to the place.”
The women hummed in agreement.
“That’s exactly what I want.” Honor’s eyes lit up as if Fern had handed her the answers to the world’s problems. “Lived-in. Like we didn’t just drop a wedding in the middle of a working ranch.”
Fern’s vision blurred unexpectedly. She blinked, hard.