Chapter 15
Bert stood in Mary’s driveway at four thirty in the morning and made a decision.
He was done being careful. Done overthinking.
Done protecting his heart at the expense of his happiness.
Previous failed relationships had taught him to be cautious, but watching Mary prepare to leave for two weeks had taught him something more important…
regret hurt worse than rejection ever could.
He’d spent months watching her from across the street, across the operations center, across the careful boundaries of friendship he’d built to keep himself safe. And he was done with it. Done being the quiet protector who never spoke up. Done waiting for the perfect moment that might never come.
Mary was leaving for two weeks. She’d be surrounded by new people and new experiences, and might realize she didn’t need him, so he was going to tell her the truth before she left.
He was going to give her the words she deserved to hear, even if they scared him more than any combat situation he’d ever faced.
The porch light flickered on, and Mary appeared at the door, maneuvering her wheelchair through with practiced ease.
She was dressed for travel in comfortable pants and a soft sweater, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, and even at this ungodly hour, she looked beautiful.
She always looked beautiful to him, though he’d never found the courage to tell her so.
“You didn’t have to do this,” she said as she rolled down the ramp, her breath visible in the cold air. “I could have taken a taxi.”
“At four thirty in the morning? Not a chance.” Bert moved to help with her suitcases, loading them into his SUV with efficient movements. He lifted her from the chair and placed her in his passenger seat. Then he collapsed her wheelchair and secured it properly, just the way she liked.
He’d learned everything about her… how she took her coffee, the way her nose crinkled when concentrating, the sound of her real laugh versus her polite one.
He knew which routes she preferred to drive, which songs made her smile, and which memories brought shadows to her eyes.
He’d spent months memorizing every detail, building a catalog of Mary in his mind like he was preparing for a mission.
But this wasn’t a mission. This was his life. And he was tired of living it halfway.
He’d fallen completely in love with her, and he’d never told her. Never even hinted at it beyond the careful boundaries of friendship.
The drive to the airport was quiet, both of them content to sit in comfortable silence broken only by the hum of the heater and the occasional song from the radio.
Bert kept his eyes on the dark road ahead, his hands steady on the wheel, and tried not to think about the fact that in a few hours, Mary would be far away.
Two weeks. Fourteen days. It would feel like an eternity.
He’d been working up the courage to ask her out for months now.
Every Tuesday when they had dinner together, he’d think about reaching across the table and taking her hand, asking if she’d consider moving their relationship beyond friendship.
Every Thursday when they watched TV movies together, sprawled comfortably in her living room, he’d rehearse the words in his head where he asked if she considered them to be more than close friends.
But the words never came. Fear held them back, locked tight in his chest where they couldn’t do any damage to the friendship they’d built.
Bert had accepted that. Or thought he had.
She was everything he’d never known he wanted.
Strong and capable and brilliant, with a dry sense of humor that caught him off guard and made him laugh more than he had in years.
She was kind without being soft, independent without being distant, vulnerable in ways that made him want to protect her even though he knew she could take care of herself.
And her wheelchair? It didn’t matter to him. Not the way she seemed to think it did.
Bert had seen the moments when doubt crossed her face, when she watched him do something physical, and he could read the question in her eyes. Is this too much? Are you only helping me because you feel sorry for me? Would you be interested in someone who can’t do everything you can do?
He wanted to shake her, to tell her that he didn’t care about the wheelchair except for how it affected her life.
He wanted to tell her that he’d learned to dance with wheelchair users just in case the opportunity ever arose to take her dancing.
That he’d researched accessible vacation destinations and adaptive equipment and everything else he could think of because he wanted to be prepared if he ever worked up the nerve to ask.
He wanted to tell her that he loved her for who she was, not despite her limitations but including them, because they were part of what made her Mary.
They reached the airport as the sky was lightening in the east, that pre-dawn gray that promised sunrise. Bert pulled up to the departure area but didn’t immediately get out. Instead, he put the SUV in Park and turned to face Mary.
“Before we unload your bags,” he said, his voice steady despite the way his heart was hammering, “I need to say something. And I need you to let me get it all out before you respond.”
Mary’s eyes widened slightly, but she nodded. “Okay.”
Bert took a breath, gathering every ounce of courage he’d earned in a decade of military service. “I care about you. Probably from the day you rolled up to the compound and shook my hand like you were daring me to see you as anything less than capable.”
He saw her lips part, saw shock and something else flicker across her face, but he kept going.
“I’ve been too scared to tell you. Too worried about ruining our friendship, too cautious for a lot of reasons.
” His voice dropped, became rougher. “But watching you pack for this trip, knowing you’ll be gone for two weeks, I realized I’m an idiot for not telling you how much you’ll be missed.
My life won’t be the same while you’re gone. ”
“Bert—” Mary started, but he shook his head.
“When you come back from Canada, I’m asking you for a date.
If it’s friendship only, that’s good. I’ll take it.
But if it’s more… well, you think about it.
” He squeezed her hand, his blue eyes locked on hers.
“I’m done being careful, Mary. You’re worth the risk.
We’re worth the risk. And I needed you to know that before you left. ”
Mary’s smile was radiant despite the tears on her cheeks. “I’ve been waiting months for you to say something like that.”
“Yeah?” Bert’s voice cracked slightly.
She glanced at the airport terminal, then back at him, conflict clear on her face. “I have to go. I have to get through security and—”
“I know.” He smiled, his heart lighter. “Go on your trip. See Prince Edward Island. Have adventures. We’ll talk every day, ‘cause I can’t wait to hear about your travels where Anne Shirley wandered.”
Her smile widened. “Take care of yourself. And don’t let the compound fall apart without me.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Her gaze held his as she reached out to take his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I promise to test out the lighthouse necklace.”
“I’ll feel better knowing you have it. Just in case.”
“Just in case of what?” Mary asked, her smile morphing into the warm smile that made him feel like maybe, possibly, she understood what he wasn’t saying.
He paused, then added honestly, “Any reason you need to reach me quickly. It’s just a backup.”
Something shifted in Mary’s expression, became softer and more open. “Thank you, Bert.”
He smiled, then climbed from the SUV and grabbed her chair and luggage. For a moment in the cold morning air, with the airport bustling around them, they simply looked at each other.
“I should get checked in,” Mary said finally, breaking the moment. “Thank you for the ride, Bert. And for the necklace. You are so good to me.”
“Have a safe flight,” he managed. “Text me when you land so I know you made it okay.”
“I will.” She hesitated, like she wanted to say something more, then just smiled and turned toward the airport entrance.
Bert watched her navigate through the automatic doors, watched until she disappeared into the crowd, and felt the loss like a physical ache. He worried, but she’d flown with her wheelchair before, so he knew she could handle herself.
Without Mary beside him, the drive back to the compound felt longer than the drive to the airport had been. The sun was rising now, painting the Montana sky in shades of pink and gold, and Bert should have appreciated the beauty of it.
Two weeks had never felt so long, but for the first time in years, Bert wasn’t dreading the wait. He was looking forward to what came after.
By the time he reached LSIMT, the team was arriving for the day. Bert parked and made his way inside, heading straight for the equipment room where he could lose himself in work and stop thinking about blue eyes and warm smiles and two weeks that stretched ahead like an eternity.
He’d been at his desk for maybe twenty minutes when Sisco appeared in the doorway, two cups of coffee in hand. He held one out to Bert, giving him a knowing look.
“Rough morning?”
“Just tired,” Bert said, accepting the coffee gratefully. “Had to get up early to take Mary to the airport.”
“Uh-huh.” Sisco leaned against the doorframe, clearly not buying it. “And how are you feeling about her being gone for two weeks?”
“Fine. She deserves a vacation. She’s been working too hard.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Bert sighed and set down his coffee. “What do you want me to say, Sisco?”
“The truth would be nice. Come on, man, this is me. It’s obvious to everyone how you feel about her. Everyone except maybe Mary herself, though I’m not even sure about that.”
Before Bert could respond, Landon appeared behind Sisco, followed by Logan. Great. An intervention. Just what he needed early in the morning.
“We’re not trying to gang up on you,” Logan said, reading Bert’s expression accurately. “But Sisco’s right. We can all see what’s going on, and we’re concerned you’re going to let something good slip away because you’re too scared to take a chance.”
“I’m not scared,” Bert said automatically, then caught their expressions and amended, “Okay, maybe I was. But with good reason.”
“That’s the past,” Landon said quietly. It wasn’t a question. They all knew Bert’s history, had heard the stories during late-night conversations when defenses were down, and whiskey was flowing.
“Yeah.” Bert ran a hand through his hair.
“But so you know, I made the decision this morning to not let the past dictate the future.” He saw their wide eyes and brows lifted in surprise.
Chuckling, he continued, “But Mary isn’t just some woman I’m interested in.
She’s my best friend. She’s become essential to my life in a way I didn’t think was possible.
So, I want to move slowly. If she doesn’t feel the same way, or it doesn’t work out, I might lose her.
I’d lose everything, not to mention how it would fuck up the office. ”
“Or,” Sisco said gently, “you tell her, and she feels the same way, and you both stop wasting time dancing around each other.”
“Well, I told her this morning that I want us to go on a real date when she gets back. It wasn’t exactly a declaration of love, but we’ll see what happens.”
Logan grinned. “The way she looks at you when you’re not paying attention? The way she lights up when you walk into a room? Hell, she told Vivian she wishes you’d see her as more than just a friend?”
Bert’s head snapped up. “She said that?”
“Vivian mentioned it to me in confidence, but under the circumstances, I think Mary would want you to know.” Logan’s expression was kind but firm.
“You spent months agonizing over whether to buy the house across from her. And when you finally talked to her about it, she was happy. She wanted you close. I’m fucking glad you stopped assuming the worst and are giving her the chance to tell you what she actually wants. ”
“And for what it’s worth, Mary doesn’t strike me as the type to string someone along out of politeness,” Landon observed. “She’s direct, honest, and perfectly capable of telling you if she’s not interested. Give her some credit.”
Bert absorbed that, turning it over in his mind. He knew they were right. Mary wasn’t the type to play games or lead someone on. If he asked her out and she wasn’t interested, she’d tell him clearly and kindly, and they’d figure out how to move forward.
“I told her to think about a date, and when she gets back, I’ll ask her out properly, make my intentions clear, and let her decide what she wants,” he said finally, the words feeling both terrifying and freeing.
“Good man,” Logan said, clapping him on the shoulder. “And Bert? For what it’s worth, I think she’s going to say yes.”
“I hope you’re right,” Bert muttered.
The others left him to his work, but Bert couldn’t concentrate. His mind kept drifting to Mary, wondering if she’d made it through security without problems, if her flight would be on time, or if she was excited or nervous about the trip ahead.
He pulled out his phone and typed a message. Hope the airport went smoothly. Safe travels. Miss you.
He stared at it for a long moment, then deleted the last sentence. Too much, too revealing, and he tried again. Hope the airport went smoothly. Safe travels.
Better. More neutral. He hit send before he could overthink it further.
Mary’s response came twenty minutes later. Security was easy. Boarding soon. Thanks again for the ride and the pendant. I’ll send you signal reports. Miss you already.
Miss you already. Three words that he’d hesitated to say. Three words that made his heart race and gave him hope that maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t as one-sided as he feared.
Bert tucked his phone away and forced himself to focus on work. Two weeks. He could survive two weeks. And when Mary came back rested and full of stories about Prince Edward Island, he’d finally find the courage to tell her the whole truth… that he wanted more than just a date.
Two weeks to prepare. Two weeks to practice what he’d say. Two weeks to convince himself that the risk was worth everything.