Lila
Hampton, Virginia
I pull into Logan’s driveway, cutting the engine and sitting in my car for a moment longer than necessary.
The sun has dipped low, casting warm streaks of orange and gold over the neatly trimmed lawn and his black Chevrolet Colorado parked beside me.
I wrap my arms around myself, though it’s not the cold air seeping through my jacket that makes me shiver, it’s the nervous energy simmering beneath my skin.
The last time Logan cooked homemade Italian for me, we didn’t even get the chance to eat. Everything between us has been so good lately, but he told me on the phone earlier that he needs to talk to me about something, and based on the tone of his voice, I don’t think it’s good.
With a calming breath, I grab my bag and head to his door.
Before I can knock, it swings open. Logan stands in the doorway wearing dark jeans and a soft light blue long-sleeve pocket tee that stretches perfectly over his chest and shoulders.
His hair is slightly damp from the shower he must have just taken.
His gray-blue eyes pull a little more blue from his shirt and they lock on to mine as a sweet, almost shy smile tugs at his lips.
“Hey,” he says and wraps one arm around my waist, pulling me in.
“Hey,” I reply, smiling despite my worry. I stand up onto my tiptoes and press a kiss on the sensitive skin of his neck before dragging his mouth to mine.
I don’t think kissing Logan will ever get old.
The warmth of his house envelops me, carrying the mouthwatering scent of garlic, basil, and something homemade. His kitchen is alive with the sounds of pasta simmering and sauce bubbling on the stove.
“You’ve been busy,” I tease, slipping out of my leather bomber jacket and hanging it on the back of one of his dining chairs.
Beneath it, I’m wearing dark jeans with an oversized cream-colored knit sweater that dips off one shoulder.
I opted for my favorite tan ankle boots, though they’re already feeling impractical for a comfy night in so I kick them off.
Logan grins, walking back toward the stove. “I told you, I’m redeeming myself. Homemade pasta, classic Italian meatballs, garlic bread, Caesar salad—the whole deal. No interruptions this time.”
There’s a playful tone in his voice, but something about the set of his shoulders and the way he avoids my eyes as he stirs the sauce tells me there’s more to tonight.
I cross the room to stand beside him, leaning my hip against the counter. “It smells amazing.”
He glances at me, his eyes softening. “I love you,” he murmurs like he couldn’t help himself.
The tightness in my chest eases just a little, and I smile. “Hmm, I guess I’ll keep you.” I crinkle my nose. “Can I help?”
“Nope.” He drops a kiss on my temple and goes back to stirring.
We settle into a comfortable rhythm as he finishes cooking. I pour us each a glass of red wine, and we chat about little things like my day at work and the funny things Dalton and Wells said in their group chat.
But as we sit down to eat, the air between us changes. Logan has been quieter than usual, his easygoing nature edged with something tenser.
I set my fork down, my appetite suddenly gone. “Logan, what’s going on?”
He looks up at me, his jaw tightening. For a long moment, he doesn’t say anything, and I feel whatever he’s holding back pressing down on both of us.
I’m not hiding anything from you anymore.
Finally, he sighs and sets his own fork down. “I’m deploying. In two days.”
The weight of his words lands on me like a lead blanket.
Two days.
I swallow hard, my voice trembling as I ask, “When did you find out?”
“Today,” Logan says softly, leaning forward in his chair, his elbows resting on his knees. “During the briefing. You had already left for the day when I got out.”
“Two days,” I whisper, more to myself than to him. “That’s barely enough time to even—” My voice catches, and I stop, pressing my hands to my face. “Logan, I don’t understand. Why so soon?”
“I can’t go into specifics,” he says, his tone full of regret. “It’s classified, Lila. But this mission…it’s important.”
I lower my hands, searching his face. “How long will you be gone?”
He hesitates, and the pause makes my stomach twist. “It’s supposed to be just a few weeks.”
“Supposed to be?” My voice cracks, and I don’t even try to hide the fear creeping in. “Logan, what does that mean? Is it dangerous?”
You deserve the truth, and I’ll give it to you, no matter how ugly it is.
His gaze drops to the floor for a moment before meeting mine again. “I can’t give you details,” he says quietly. “But yes, probably. They wouldn’t send us if it wasn’t.”
The honesty in his voice sends a chill through me, and I cross my arms tightly over my chest, trying to hold myself together. “You just got home,” I say softly, my throat tightening. “We were finally starting to feel…normal. And now you’re leaving?”
“I know.” His voice is raw, and when he stands and takes a step toward me, I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands clench and unclench at his sides. “I hate the timing, Lila, but I don’t have a choice.”
“Why does it have to be you?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. “There are four other flights, right? Why can’t someone else go?”
His jaw tightens, and he exhales slowly. “It’s connected to Ryan.” His voice is rough. “This mission…it’s about what happened to him. To the base. I can’t sit this one out.”
No secrets.
The words sink in slowly, and my chest feels like it’s caving in. “Ryan,” I whisper. “You’re going after the people who—?”
“Yes.” His tone is even, but there’s something in his eyes that looks fragile, like he’s barely holding himself together.
No walls.
I slump against the back of the dining chair, my head spinning.
“Lila,” Logan says softly, crouching in front of me. His hands find mine, and he squeezes gently. “I know this is a lot and I know you’re scared. But I need you to trust me.”
“I do,” I whisper, tears spilling over. “But that doesn’t make this any easier. What if something happens to you, Logan? What am I supposed to do then?”
He leans closer, his hands tightening around mine. “You keep going,” he says firmly. “Because nothing is going to happen to me. I’m coming back, Lila.”
The rest of my life.
“You can’t promise that,” I say, my voice cracking. “No matter how much you want to, you can’t. And that’s what terrifies me.”
“I know.” He lets me see the cracks in his armor. “I know I can’t promise that. But I can promise you this, I’m not going anywhere willingly. I’ll fight like hell to get back to you.”
I nod slowly, my heart aching as I look into his eyes. His strong arms pull me against him as the tears come. I hold on to him and pretend we have all the time in the world.