Dalton
Langley AFB
The briefing wraps with the usual mix of dry instructions and things that actually matter.
Weather windows. Airspace restrictions. Timing on the demo profile.
Townsend closes his tablet with a sharp nod. “We’ll run it clean today. No cowboy shit, understood?”
“Yes, sir,” we echo, more out of habit than anything else.
“Good. See you in fifteen.”
Chairs scrape. Papers shuffle. The room loosens as soon as the official part is over, tension bleeding off just enough for everyone to breathe again.
I’m halfway to the door when Wells’s voice cuts in behind me. “Hey, Everett."
Something in his tone makes me pause. I turn slightly. “Yeah?”
He’s leaning back against the table, arms crossed, looking entirely too relaxed for a guy who just sat through a briefing. And then he grins. Slow and knowing.
I glance at Logan who’s standing beside him smirking.
Shit.
“What?” I ask, already suspicious.
Townsend perks up immediately from behind his cup of coffee. He glances between Wells and Logan and me. “Oh shit, I know that look.”
“Don’t start,” I mutter.
“Oh, I’m absolutely starting,” Wells says, pushing off the table and stepping closer. “Quick question.”
I narrow my eyes. “No.”
He ignores that completely. “You been keeping anything interesting from us?”
My stomach drops a fraction.
“Not that I’m aware of,” I say carefully.
Logan lets out a low whistle. “That is the most suspicious answer I’ve ever heard.”
I roll my eyes. “Shut the fuck up, James.”
Townsend, half distracted by his phone, lifts one brow slightly. “You forgot your lunch a few days ago and had to go home in the middle of the day and get it.”
I blink. “What does that have to do with anything?”
Wells snaps his fingers. “Oh, we’re building a case now. I like this.”
I drag a hand down my face.
Logan steps in closer, dropping his voice just enough to make it feel like it’s not for the whole room—except it absolutely is. “So,” he says, casual as anything, “you want to tell me why Ivy was sitting on my couch last night talking about wanting you to kiss her again?”
Everything in my body goes still.
Wells cackles.
Townsend actually looks up fully now.
And I just stare at Logan.
“…what?” I say flatly.
He grins wider. “You heard me.”
“You’re full of shit.”
“Am I?” he counters, tilting his head slightly.
My brain is scrambling, trying to figure out how the hell this conversation is happening right now. “You were eavesdropping?” I ask, because that feels like the most immediate problem.
“I walked into my own house,” he says. “Not my fault you’ve got my fiancée and her friends gossiping about you like it’s their full-time job.”
Wells lets out a sharp laugh. “Oh, this is gold.”
“Shut up,” I snap, even though I can feel the heat creeping up the back of my neck.
Logan isn’t done. “‘Now every time I see him, I want to kiss him again,’” he repeats in what I can only assume is supposed to be an Ivy impersonation complete with a high-pitched voice that sounds nothing like her. He doesn’t even attempt to hide his amusement.
“Logan,” I warn.
“Mean anything to you?”
I stare at him for a second longer, weighing my options.
Deny.
Deflect.
Walk out.
Instead, I settle on the always effective “go fuck yourself.”
Wells drops his hands to Logan’s shoulders massaging them roughly like he’s prepping him for a fight. “Oh, he’s rattled.”
“I am not rattled.”
“You are absolutely rattled,” Wells says, grinning. “I’ve seen you take missile locks with less stress.”
“Eat shit.”
Townsend huffs out something that might be a laugh, shaking his head slightly. “Didn’t think you had it in you, Everett.”
I shoot him a look. “You too?”
He shrugs. “Just saying. You don’t usually blur the lines.”
That lands because he’s not wrong. And they all know it.
Logan’s grin fades just a fraction—not gone, but tempered. “Yeah,” he says more quietly. “That’s kind of why I’m asking.”
There’s a shift, it’s subtle but it’s very much there.
Wells picks up on it immediately, his expression sobering just slightly as he leans back against the table. “We talking serious, or…?”
I exhale slowly, dragging a hand over the back of my neck.
“I don’t know,” I admit. The words feel heavier out loud than they did in my head.
“You not knowing something? That’s new,” Wells mutters.
I roll my eyes.
Logan studies me for a second, the teasing gone now, replaced with something more measured. “You’re protecting her,” he says.
It’s not a question.
I nod once.
“And there’s Kyler…” he adds.
Another nod.
Wells winces. “Yeah, that’s…not a small detail.”
“No,” I say dryly. “It’s not. But they are divorced.”
A beat.
Wells lets out a low breath. “He’s gonna lose his shit when he finds out you’re into his girl.”
I wince.
“That’s putting it lightly,” Logan mutters.
I don’t say anything because they’re right, because every version of this ends with Kyler finding out eventually. And none of those versions are clean.
“Let’s be clear,” Logan begins, “Ivy’s not Kyler’s girl.
As far as I know, Ivy is very much single and if this is something the two of you want to pursue, you’re not getting any argument from me.
But just be sure it’s what you want because her life is really complicated, and right now, you’re the one keeping hell from raining down on her and her daughter.
If things go south between you, that role doesn’t fall to someone else. It’s still yours.”
“He’s saying don’t be an idiot,” Townsend says.
“I’m saying don’t fuck this up.” Logan’s eyes bore into mine. I guess I kind of deserve this after the lectures I gave him last year about Lila.
Wells looks between us, then back at me. “So what, you’re just going to…not kiss her again?”
I shake my head once. “That’s not the problem.”
Logan’s brow lifts slightly. “No?”
“No,” I say, meeting his gaze. “The problem is I’m not sure I’m capable of stopping.”
That earns me a quiet look from all three of them.
Wells exhales. “Well. Shit.”
Townsend nods once, like that confirms something for him. “Then you’d better figure it the fuck out.”
“Yeah,” Logan adds, his voice steady now. “I don’t know Ivy’s story, but I get the feeling it’s not all pretty, which means you get one shot.”
I hold his gaze. “I know.”
There’s a brief silence until Townsend’s voice cuts clean through it. “Alright, ladies, if you’re done with your little soap opera, it’s time to gear up.”
We all turn.
He’s standing in the doorway, arms crossed, expression unimpressed in a way that says he definitely had enough.
Wells straightens immediately. “We prefer the term highly classified emotional debrief, sir.”
Townsend stares at him, then cracks the faintest of smiles. “Get your helmet.”
“Yes, sir.”
Logan claps a hand against my shoulder as he moves past me. “We’re not done with this,” he mutters under his breath.
“Can’t wait,” I shoot back.
Wells grins as he falls in beside us. “Oh, I can. This is the most entertainment we’ve had all week.”
Townsend just shakes his head, already heading out the door.
“Let’s go, lover boy,” Wells adds, nudging my shoulder.
I shove him lightly, but I can’t quite stop the corner of my mouth from lifting.
I’m already in over my head.