Chapter 11 CAROLINA #2
"Processing." It's the most honest answer I have. "Three days of sleep helped. So did hearing that none of Greer's people survived to try again. But I keep replaying everything, wondering what I missed, how I could have prevented—"
"You can't prevent someone else's choices to pursue revenge." CJ leans back in his chair. "You designed something innovative for training purposes. Greer corrupted it and used it to hurt people. That's on him, not you."
Intellectually, I know he's right. Emotionally, it'll take longer to believe it. But having survived Greer's test, having proven I could disarm devices specifically designed to kill me—that helps.
It doesn't erase the guilt about Noah Parker, but it adds something else to the equation. Evidence that I'm not a fraud, not a danger, not someone who should hide from her own expertise.
"Agent Parker mentioned you might have a proposition for me," I say, changing the subject slightly.
"We do." CJ pulls up something on his tablet, then turns it to face me.
"Guardian HRS has been discussing expanding our capabilities to include EOD consultation and training.
After watching you these past few days, we'd like you to join us.
Contract basis initially, with the possibility of permanent hire if it's a good fit. "
I study the details he's showing me—salary figures that make my wilderness guide work look like hobby income, benefits, flexible scheduling, and the chance to use my skills for something meaningful.
Teaching Guardian operators advanced EOD techniques, consulting on device threats, maybe even developing new training protocols that honor what I learned from Noah's death without running from it.
"Would I be working with Flint's team?" I ask, trying to sound casual.
CJ's expression suggests I'm not fooling him.
"Not directly—you'd be a contractor available to all Guardian teams. But Morrison will be on medical leave for at least four weeks while his ribs heal.
Desk duty after that." He pauses meaningfully.
"Though I imagine he'll be more amenable to recovery if someone he cares about is around the facility regularly. "
"Is this a professional offer or a matchmaking attempt?"
"Can't it be both?" There's almost a smile in CJ's eyes.
"Look, Sutton what you and Morrison did out there was remarkable.
Not just the tactical success, but the way you worked together.
Trust under pressure like that is rare. Whether that translates to something beyond the professional is your business.
But Guardian HRS values people who can function in crisis, who have specialized skills, and who've proven they'll see a mission through regardless of personal cost. You check all those boxes. "
I think about joining Guardian HRS, about building something new from the wreckage of my guilt and Greer's revenge. About being around Flint while he heals, while we figure out if what we feel is real or just adrenaline and proximity.
"I'll need to finish out my contract with Sierra Wilderness Expeditions," I say slowly. "Give them notice, train my replacement, do it right."
"We can work with that timeline."
"I’m not ready to make this decision. It feels simultaneously scary and right." I take a breath,
"Take some time," CJ leans back, "finish up with the guide company, and then we'll talk." He stands, signaling the meeting's end, but pauses at the door. "Morrison's in physical therapy right now, if you wanted to stop by. Room 108, east wing of Medical."
I head to room 108, where through the window I see Flint doing breathing exercises with a respiratory therapist. He's in Guardian HRS athletic gear, moving carefully, obviously still in pain from the cracked ribs, but pushing through with determination.
The physical therapist sees me first and says something to Flint. He turns, face lighting up when he sees me—actual joy, unguarded and immediate. It does something to my chest, that expression, makes me think maybe this isn't just trauma bonding after all.
"Hey," he says, walking over carefully, one hand pressed lightly to his ribs. "What are you doing here?"
"Just had a meeting with CJ. Offered me a contract position." I watch his face carefully. "Teaching EOD, consulting on device threats, that kind of thing."
His smile grows. "Yeah? That's... that's good. Really good. We need someone with your expertise."
"And apparently, stubborn operators on medical leave need someone to make sure they don't push too hard in recovery." I gesture to where the therapist is watching. "CJ mentioned you'll be on restricted duty for a while."
"Four weeks minimum while these ribs heal. Then desk duty." He says it without regret. "Totally worth it, though."
"Idiot," I say, but there's no heat in it.
"Your idiot, if you want." He says it lightly, but there's a real question underneath. "We said we'd figure out what this is, after. It's after. So... what do you think?"
I step closer. "I think it might be real. I want to find out."
"Me too." His hand comes up to cup my face. "I'm not good at relationships. I'm gone a lot, the work is dangerous, and I carry baggage."
"I'm not great at them either. But maybe we're both ready to try something different."
"Different sounds good." He leans down slowly, giving me time to pull back if I want, but I don't. I meet him halfway, and the kiss is gentle, testing.
When we pull back, he's smiling. "So. We're doing this?"
"We're doing this." I step back. "But first, you finish recovery. I'll finish with my guide company. Let's do this right."
"Sounds like a plan. Dinner tonight? If you're still in town."
"Dinner sounds good."
I leave him to finish his session, but I can't quite stop smiling as I walk back through the Guardian HRS facility.
The future feels uncertain in ways that would have terrified me a week ago. But now, having survived Greer's worst and disarmed every device he built to destroy me, uncertainty feels like possibility instead of threat.