Lila
Langley AFB
I’m buried in press releases, trying to piece together highlights from the last airshow, when a knock sounds on my office door, followed immediately by it swinging open.
I look up, startled, and my eyes lock onto a man standing in the doorway.
He’s strikingly handsome—tall and broad-shouldered, with dark blond hair that’s just tousled enough to look effortless.
His flight suit clings perfectly to his muscular frame, and his confidence radiates in a way that would’ve drawn me in before Logan.
His presence is commanding, almost too big for the small office.
He grins, the kind of cocky, easy smile that belongs to someone who’s never been told no.
“Miss Mercer?” His voice is smooth, tinged with a slight Southern drawl that catches me off guard.
I force a polite smile, standing up from behind my desk. “Yes, I’m Lila.”
He steps inside, walking toward me, and extending a hand. “Captain Wells Bennett. Saint.”
Saint. The new pilot. The one taking Ryan’s place.
The air rushes from my lungs, and I scramble to keep my expression neutral. I reach out, shaking his hand. His grip is firm and warm. “Welcome to Langley, Captain Bennett.”
“Please, call me Wells,” he says, letting go of my hand and tucking both of his into his pockets. “Saber sent me to find you—said you’re the one actually running the show.”
I let out a soft laugh, lifting a brow. “Is that what he told you?”
“In so many words.” His smile is easy, the kind that probably sends most women’s hearts into a tailspin. Maybe mine too, if there were any part of it that didn’t belong to Logan. “Beautiful day today, isn’t it?” His eyes assess me slowly before he nods his head toward my window.
I tilt my head causing a long curled strand of my dark hair to fall across my face.
Pushing it behind my ear, I narrow my eyes at him, trying to figure out why he’s talking to me about the weather.
He’s wrong, too. I glance out the window behind my desk, at the gray clouds hanging low in the sky.
“If you like chilly weather and cloudy skies, sure.”
He laughs, a deep, rich sound that seems to fill the room. “Trust me, this is paradise compared to Elmendorf. Five years in Alaska, and I’m still thawing out.”
I nod, a tightness building in my chest. “Elmendorf? Flying Raptors, I assume?”
“Got it in one,” he says, rocking back on his heels. “It’s all I know. I was sent out to Nellis in Nevada to learn, then flew out of Alaska ever since. Just transferred here.”
Nellis.
Nevada.
Vegas.
Logan.
“To join the squadron?” I ask, my voice catching slightly even though I already know. Asher announced it in yesterday’s afternoon briefing.
“That’s the plan,” he says casually. “Heard there were some shifts in personnel, and they needed someone to fill a slot.”
I stiffen. Ryan’s slot.
“You’re replacing Captain Carter,” I say quietly, the words heavy on my tongue.
His easy smile falters, confusion flickering in his deep blue eyes. “Replacing him?”
“He was killed,” I say softly, the ache in my chest intensifying. “A few months ago.”
Wells’s face falls, and he straightens slightly, a shadow crossing his expression. “I didn’t know,” he says, his voice subdued. “I’m…damn, I’m sorry. What happened?”
“An attack on a base overseas. South China Sea,” I say, my throat tightening.
Wells exhales slowly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Shit. I heard about that but didn’t realize…” His gaze drops for a moment, genuine sorrow softening his features. “I’m sorry. That’s…that’s rough.”
“Yeah,” I whisper, my eyes falling to the papers scattered on my desk. Ryan’s laughter, his relentless optimism, his stupid jokes—they feel so far away now.
Wells hesitates before speaking again, his voice quieter. “Did you know him well?”
“I did,” I say simply, my throat tightening.
His eyes linger on me, his expression contemplative, like he’s piecing something together. I shift under his gaze, uncomfortable with the way he’s looking at me—like he sees more than I want to reveal.
“And Captain James?” he asks, the name hitting me like a punch to the gut.
I nod, fighting to keep my expression neutral. “He’s deployed right now.”
“Yeah, they’ll be home next week,” Wells says.
I wince. Asher did not divulge this in yesterday’s meeting.
“We have a lot of work to do,” Wells continues, oblivious to my inner turmoil. “James and I have our first demo together in Florida in a few weeks. I’ve never been a demo pilot. Shit’s a different animal.”
So I’ve heard.
“Do you know Logan—I mean, Captain James?” I ask, stumbling over his name.
His lips curve into a smirk at my slip up, understanding flickering in his eyes.
“Never met him,” Wells says, his tone lightening. “But Viking’s a legend among Raptor pilots. Everyone talks about him like he’s Superman or something.”
I’m not your hero.
Logan’s broken voice echoes in my mind like these words were spoken yesterday instead of months ago.
I force a small smile. “He’s a good pilot.”
“Good?” Wells scoffs, crossing his arms. “He’s the best. I’ve heard stories—insane stories—about his flying.
The way he moves that jet…they say he flies that thing like it’s hardwired into his veins.
That’s the goal, right?” His eyes light up with admiration.
“I’ve watched footage, tried to learn his maneuvers.
Hell, I’ve even heard that Top Gun instructors talk about him.
They say he’s one of a kind. Bet that drives those Navy boys crazy. ”
My heart twists, pride and pain warring inside me. Of course, Logan would be the best. He never does anything halfway. I open my mouth to respond but nothing comes out.
“Guess I’ve got some big shoes to fill,” Wells says, his cocky grin returning as he gestures to the airfield. “Think Bravo will let me show off a little?”
“I think you’ll do well,” I say, my voice tight as I try to keep the conversation professional. But the words feel hollow. He’s here because Ryan isn’t.
Wells’s grin widens, and he gives me a mock salute. “Well, Miss Mercer, it’s been a pleasure meeting you.”
I nod, fighting to maintain my composure. “You too, Wells.”
As he walks out, his confident stride echoing down the hallway, the ache in my chest deepens. He’s charming, I’m sure he’s talented and every bit the golden-boy pilot. But he’s not Ryan. And he’s definitely not Logan.
The office feels emptier after he’s gone, a stark reminder of the holes left behind. Holes I’m still trying to figure out how to fill. I sink into my chair, the familiar pain settling in. Wells may be here to take Ryan’s spot in the lineup, but no one will ever take his place.