Ivy
Hampton, Virginia
The house feels wrong in a way I can’t stop noticing.
Not quiet like peace. Quiet like something is waiting for permission to happen again.
I’m still curled into the corner of Dalton’s couch, blanket pulled tight around me, fingers wrapped around a mug of tea that’s gone cold without me realizing.
I haven’t really moved in what feels like hours, except to breathe and force myself not to spiral into every possible “what-if” my brain keeps trying to offer me like it’s helpful.
Lila is pacing near the kitchen island, phone in hand, glancing at it every few seconds like she’s trying to will it to ring.
Alinna is sitting on the floor beside the couch, her shoulder resting lightly against my leg like she needs contact to believe I’m still here.
None of us are talking much anymore. The initial shock has burned off, leaving something heavier behind.
I force myself to break the silence anyway because I need something normal.
“I called the school,” I say.
Both of them look up immediately.
“Hadley’s fine,” I add quickly, before either of them can panic. “She’s in class. No one there even knew anything happened.”
Lila lets out a breath and stops pacing. “Good. That’s really good.”
Alinna nods slowly. “Being on base is probably the safest place she could be right now.”
I know she’s right, but it doesn’t make my chest loosen.
Nothing really does.
“I hate that she’s even part of this world,” I admit quietly, the words slipping out before I can stop them.
Lila looks at me for a second, softer now. “She’s part of your world, Ivy. That’s always a good thing.”
I don’t respond because I don’t trust my voice to hold.
The silence stretches again.
Time feels strange now. I keep checking my phone even though I already know there’s nothing there. The last message from Dalton is still sitting on my screen like it’s frozen in time.
Wheels up soon. You okay?
I told him I was.
I’m not sure what I am now.
Lila eventually drops onto the couch beside me, pulling her knees up, and dropping her head onto my shoulder. “No word from Logan yet,” she says quietly, like she’s stating something she doesn’t want to make real.
Alinna shakes her head. “Same for Wells.”
“Still flying,” Lila mutters.
“Probably,” Alinna agrees.
That should feel reassuring. It doesn’t. It feels like distance. Like he’s somewhere I can’t reach him. Like anything could be happening and I wouldn’t even know.
“I hate this part,” I whisper.
Lila gives a humorless laugh. “This is the whole job, Ivy. This is the part.”
“Has Logan made you his next of kin yet?” I ask selfishly because I want to know if we’ll be notified if anything happens to the guys. I want her beside me so I could find out with her.
“He has,” she says simply.
Alinna’s gone still in a way that makes me look at her more closely. Her eyes are wide as she stares at her phone screen.
“You okay?” I ask.
She hesitates. That alone is enough to make something in my stomach tighten. “I got my next assignment,” she says finally.
Lila sits forward slightly. “Where?”
Alinna exhales like she’s been holding it in for hours. “Venezuela.”
The room changes instantly. I feel it. We all do. Because none of us need it explained. Not really.
We all know what “Venezuela” means in the world right now—unstable regions, limited infrastructure, armed groups still active in rural areas, humanitarian work that exists on the edge of safety and collapse.
Places where things can go wrong quietly and completely and no one has the capacity to fix it fast enough.
Lila’s voice softens. “How long?”
“Four months,” Alinna says.
Four months is a long time to live in uncertainty even when things are stable. In places like that, it feels like something else entirely.
“You’ve had more dangerous assignments,” Lila says gently, trying to anchor it.
“I know,” Alinna says immediately, but her voice isn’t steady anymore.
I sit up slightly. “Then why does this feel different?”
She looks down at her hands for a long moment before answering. “Because I’m scared,” she admits quietly. The honesty hits the room harder than anything else has today.
Lila blinks at her. “You’ve never said that before.”
“I know.” Her voice cracks just slightly, and that’s what makes it real. Not the words. The break in them.
“There are still armed groups operating in those regions,” she continues. “There are checkpoints that aren’t official. Roads that aren’t really roads. And if something happens out there…” She stops, swallowing hard. I shiver. “Response time isn’t fast. Sometimes there isn’t response at all.”
Silence presses in around us.
I understand that kind of fear more than I want to.
“If something goes wrong, you’re on your own,” I say quietly.
Alinna nods once. “Yeah.”
Lila exhales sharply, shaking her head. “That’s insane. Why are they sending you there? How can they guarantee your safety?”
“They can’t,” Alinna says. “There are teams. Local partners. Security protocols. It’s just…” She pauses again, eyes flicking up to mine briefly. “There are no guarantees. We don’t have enough of a military presence there. It doesn’t feel safe.”
No one argues with that.
Before anyone can say anything else, the sound of a truck outside cuts through the quiet.
All three of us freeze at the same time.
It’s immediate.
Instinct.
Lila is already up and moving toward the window. I don’t even realize I’ve stood until I’m halfway across the room, blanket slipping off my shoulders.
Then Lila exhales sharply. “Oh my goodness.”
My heart drops. “What?”
“They’re back,” she says.
I don’t think. I move.
Barefoot on the floor, heart already hammering, I rush for the front door and pull it open just as Dalton steps into view.
And everything inside me breaks loose at once.
He’s here. Alive. Okay.
His flight suit is still on, his hair messy. He and Wells lean a sheet of plywood against the teak loveseat on the front porch. Logan sets a new lock kit on the end table beside it.
Relief hits so hard it almost makes my knees give out.
“Dalton—”
I don’t finish my sentence, I’m already in motion. Crossing the distance between us so fast it feels like I’ve been holding my breath since the moment he left. I crash into him, and his arms are instantly around me.
“I’ve got you,” he says immediately, voice low and rough against my hair. “I’ve got you, Ivy. I’m right here.”
My arms tighten around him. “I was so scared.” My voice breaks.
“I know,” he says softly. His hand moves to the back of my head, steadying me, pulling me closer like he understands exactly what part of me is still unraveling even if I don’t say it. “You’re okay,” he says.
It’s not a question.
I nod anyway. “Yeah. I’m okay.”
But it doesn’t sound convincing, even to me.
He pulls back just enough to look at me, eyes scanning my face like he’s checking for damage he might’ve missed. Then he kisses me—slow at first, but there’s tension in it too. Something unspoken. Something that hasn’t left him either.
Behind us, I hear Lila’s voice crack with relief. “Hi, Captain.”
I glance over just in time to see her launching herself into Logan’s arms as he catches her easily, his laugh low and shaky as he holds her like he’s been counting seconds until this exact moment.
“Hey, sweetheart. Miss me?” he murmurs into her hair.
“Always,” she says, but she’s shaking a little as she clings to him anyway.
Wells is just behind them, his attention already on Alinna.
She doesn’t move at first. Just looks at him like she’s not sure what to do.
Then he steps forward, and something in her breaks open all at once.
She goes to him and he meets her halfway.
He takes her in his arms, dropping a kiss to her hair.
It’s soft. Almost too gentle for everything that just happened. But I see her smile anyway.
I turn back to Dalton, still holding onto him like I haven’t decided if I can let go yet.
“You’re really okay?” I ask again, because I need it to be true more than I need anything else.
His forehead rests briefly against mine.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “Just…long day.”
There’s something in his voice that doesn’t match the words.
But I don’t push.
Not because I don’t want to.
Because I can’t lose him again in my head right now.
His arms tighten around me for a second longer before he exhales and glances toward the broken window, the damaged lock, the reminder of everything that happened while he was gone.
“Let’s get this place secured,” he says quietly.
And even though none of us are okay yet, we all move like we’re trying to believe we are.