2. Jon
TWO
Jon
Later that evening, I stand on Blaze’s deck overlooking the Pacific, mesmerized by how the setting sun transforms the rolling waves into a canvas of amber and gold.
The salty breeze carries the scent of grilling burgers and hot dogs, mingling with the rhythmic percussion of waves breaking against the shore below.
String lights twinkle overhead, dancing with the glow of countless candles—Ryn’s creations—their golden cracks illuminating the gathering like earthbound stars.
“Your turn to flip, Blaze,” Mac calls out, brandishing a spatula like a weapon. “I’ve done my duty as grill sergeant.”
“Last time I left you unsupervised with beer, you taught CJ that ridiculous drinking game.” Blaze groans dramatically.
“Which is now standard training procedure,” CJ interjects, raising his bottle with a grin. “Best way to teach rookies patience during stakeouts.”
“God help us all if Delta team’s methods ever become standard.” Jenny rolls her eyes, but her smile is fond.
The easy banter washes over me, familiar and comforting.
Charlie and Brett stand near the railing, heads bent in quiet conversation, occasionally glancing my way.
There’s something in their expressions that makes my chest tighten—not the sharp pain of recent months, but something softer, an anticipation.
Brett catches my eye and tilts his head slightly. A gesture I know well from years of wordless communication in the field. We need to talk.
I nod, and Aria shifts beside me. She knows better than most about the complicated history between Charlie, Brett, and me—the years we spent as more than just teammates. The dissolution of our relationship left wounds that are still healing, though tonight they ache less than usual.
“Go ahead,” she says softly, squeezing my hand. “I’ll help Ryn set out the desserts.”
I follow Charlie and Brett to the far corner of the deck, where the crash of waves provides privacy from the rest of the group.
The sunset casts long shadows across their faces, and for a moment, I’m struck by how familiar they still are to me—the curve of Charlie’s smile, the way Brett stands with his weight shifted slightly to his right side.
“We wanted to talk to you first,” Charlie begins, her voice softer than usual. The vulnerability there reminds me of late nights when the three of us would lie awake, sharing fears we never voiced to anyone else.
Brett leans against the railing, his posture deliberately casual, but I recognize the tension in his shoulders. We’ve been through too much together for me not to see it.
“Something’s changed.” It’s not a question. The sea breeze carries the scent of Charlie’s perfume—the same one she’s worn for years, the one that still sometimes haunts my dreams.
“Jon, you’ve been…” Charlie takes a deep breath. “God, how do I even say this?” She looks to Brett, a silent plea for help.
“We were good together,” Brett says quietly. “The three of us. For a long time.”
“We were,” I agree, my throat tight with unexpected emotion. Memories flash through my mind—Charlie’s laughter in bed on Sunday mornings, Brett’s arm slung over my shoulder during movie nights, the three of us moving together like one.
“When things ended, it wasn’t because we stopped caring.” Charlie steps closer, close enough that the flecks of gold in her eyes shimmer.
“I know.” The admission still stings.
Our relationship dissolved not from lack of love, but from the slow, painful realization that we were growing in different directions.
The arguments grew more frequent, the silences longer.
Even the passion that once was our foundation began to feel like a desperate attempt to hold onto something already slipping away.
“I’ve missed you.” Brett’s voice roughens with emotion. “Not just… But you know. The way you always knew what to say when a mission goes sideways. Your terrible jokes. How you hog all the blankets.”
“I do not hog the blankets.” I can’t help but smile at that.
“You absolutely did.” Charlie laughs softly, the sound achingly familiar. “Remember that cabin in Colorado? Brett and I nearly froze to death.”
The memory warms me—a rare weekend off, snow falling outside, the three of us tangled together for warmth. For a moment, I let myself remember how it felt to be part of something so complete, so consuming.
“I’ve missed you too,” I admit. “Both of you, but we’ve all moved on. I’m okay with that.”
“I’m happy to hear that.” Charlie reaches for my hand, her fingers twining with mine the way they have countless times before. “We wanted you to know first because—because despite everything, you’re still part of us.”
“Charlie’s pregnant.” Brett moves closer, completing our small circle.
The words don’t register at first, too enormous to process. I look from Charlie’s face to Brett’s, seeing the mix of joy and apprehension there.
“You’re…” My voice trails off.
“Twelve weeks.” Her free hand moves instinctively to her stomach. “We found out last month.”
“We wanted to be sure,” Brett adds. “Before we told anyone. Even you.”
I try to imagine it—Charlie with a rounded belly, Brett hovering protectively, a child with his eyes or her smile. A life they’re building together, one that doesn’t include me in the way we once imagined.
What rises in me isn’t the jealousy or loss. Instead, a surge of joy wells up inside of me for these two people I’ve loved so deeply.
“That’s… Wow!” I swallow hard, emotion making my voice rough. “Charlie, Brett, that’s incredible.”
“Yeah?” Charlie studies my face, looking for the truth behind my words. “You’re okay with it?”
“Okay?” I squeeze her hand. “I’m thrilled for you, both of you. You’re going to be amazing parents.”
“There’s more.” Brett’s eyes shine bright.
“More?”
“Yeah. We’re stepping down from Guardian HRS. Opening our own place, a gym focused on teaching self-defense to foster kids and trafficking survivors.”
The pieces click into place—their whispered conversations, the research I glimpsed on Brett’s laptop, Charlie’s sudden aversion to coffee. The subtle changes I noticed but never fully registered.
“When?” I ask.
“End of the month,” Brett says. “We wanted you to hear it from us, not through Guardian gossip.”
I nod, processing. My relationship with them was intense. Complicated and beautiful in its own way. For years, we moved as a unit, in the field and in life. The end was messy and painful—not because anyone did anything wrong, but because we grew in different directions.
“I’m happy for you,” I say finally. “Both of you. It’s a perfect fit.”
“We want you in our lives.” Charlie studies my face, looking for the truth behind my words. “This doesn’t change that you’re family.”
“We want you in the baby’s life, as well.” Brett’s shoulder brushes mine, familiar and solid.
“Me? How?” I glance between them, suddenly not following. How would that work?
“As an uncle,” Brett says, “and Godfather, if we could ask that of you.”
“Godfather?” The request catches me off guard. After everything—the dissolution of our relationship, the careful dance of rebuilding friendship—this feels like a sacred trust. “Wow, that’s… I’d be honored.”
Brett pulls me into a tight embrace, his arms strong around my shoulders.
The familiar pressure of his body against mine sends a bittersweet ache through my chest. The solidity of him, the scent of his skin—things I once knew as intimately as my own heartbeat.
No more nights exploring every inch of him, no more lazy mornings with his body curved around mine.
Something precious slips away in this moment, even as something new begins.
“We still want you in our lives.” We separate, and Brett’s hands linger on my shoulders, his eyes searching mine. “Different than before, but no less important.”
“This wasn’t how any of us planned things would go.
” Charlie steps closer, her hand finding mine.
“But just because we’re not sharing a bed doesn’t mean we’re not still connected.
” Her gaze drifts past me to where Aria stands with the others.
A small smile plays at her lips. “She seems nice. And you seem—lighter around her.”
“Took you long enough to make a move, though.” Brett follows her gaze. “We had a betting pool going, you know.”
“You did not.” Despite everything, a laugh escapes me.
“We absolutely did,” Charlie grins. “No one won, though. You waited way longer than any of us predicted.”
“Even Mac bet you’d kiss her after the debrief from the Santa Barbara extraction,” Brett adds. “That was two months ago.”
“You were betting on my love life?” Heat rises to my face.
“Someone had to take an interest.” Charlie squeezes my hand. “You weren’t exactly rushing things along.”
Something about Aria feels right in a way I can’t fully articulate. A possibility I’m not yet ready to name, but I also can’t ignore it.
“Are you happy?” Brett asks, his voice dropping to that register that always made me tell him the truth, even when I didn’t want to.
“Getting there,” I admit. “And you two? I can’t believe you’re starting a family.”
“Yes.” Charlie’s hand drifts to her stomach again. “We want this, but we also want our child to know their Uncle Jon, to have you in their life. As family.”
“Always,” I promise, and mean it with everything in me.
When we rejoin the group, Aria’s eyes find mine immediately. Questions, but no jealousy, no insecurity. Just patience and understanding. She makes my heart swell. I slide beside her, my arm finding its place around her waist. Her body leans into mine, a silent acknowledgment of connection.
“Everything okay?” Her warm breath against my ear sends shivers down my spine.
“Better than okay.” I press my lips to her temple.
The night deepens around us, and the deck is alive with laughter and conversation. Jenny and Mac trade stories from missions past, embellishing details to make Ember and Aria laugh.