Chapter 16 Hawk
Hawk
The storm hadn’t stopped. It whispered against the roof, a soft yet relentless rhythm that filled the cabin with a strange sense of uneasy calm.
The others were asleep or pretending to be, their gear lined up by the door for a predawn departure.
The mission briefing sat open on the table, but I hadn’t read the same line twice.
Julia was by the window again, her reflection framed in the glass. Moonlight traced the edge of her profile, silver in her hair. She didn’t turn when she said, “You’re pacing.”
“I think better on my feet.”
She glanced back, eyes tired but steady. “That's what you call it?”
I stopped. “You should be sleeping.”
“I tried,” she said quietly. “Every time I close my eyes, I see Torres. Frank. All of it.”
I crossed the room before I meant to. “You can’t carry every name that bleeds in your direction, Julia. It’ll hollow you out.”
She turned, facing me fully now. “And what about you? How many names do you carry?”
More than I could ever count. But I didn’t answer. The silence between us thickened until it felt alive.
Her breathing hitched. “You said earlier you liked excuses to save me.”
“Maybe,” I murmured. “But that’s not why I’m here.”
She tilted her head, searching. “Then why?”
“Because every time you walk into a room, I forget I’m supposed to be the calm one.”
For a moment neither of us moved. Then she took a step forward, closing the gap to a breath’s width. The air was warm, humming with all the things we’d never said.
Her voice dropped. “What happens if we don’t make it tomorrow?”
“Then we make tonight count.”
The words came out rougher than I intended. Her fingers brushed mine—tentative, then sure—and the contact sparked down my arm like live current.
When I reached for her, she smiled and took my hand. She met me halfway.
The kiss was slow, cautious, a question waiting for an answer. The second was an answer.
The world outside blurred to rain and wind and heartbeats. My hand slid to the small of her back, feeling the shiver that ran through her when she leaned into me. She tasted of mint and cinnamon and everything I’d spent too long wanting.
Her breath hitched again, softer this time. She rose on her toes, lips grazing my jaw. “You still think timing’s bad?”
“Timing’s never been better.”
She smiled against my mouth. The sound that escaped me was half laugh, half surrender. I lifted her easily, her fingers curling into my shirt, and the rest of the world fell away.
“I want you to touch me everywhere. I want you to make love to me,” she whispered. I’m more ready tonight than I was the other night. Tonight I know what I’ve been missing. After tonight, we won’t say we’ll wait until this is over.
The storm grew louder, wind rattling the shutters, but inside the cabin, it was nothing but heat and heartbeat and the quiet gasp of relief that came when two people finally stopped pretending.
And when her breath caught again—soft, certain—I knew we wouldn’t be going back.
Outside, thunder rolled over Copper Cove. Inside, I let the lights dim and the noise fade until all that was left was her name in the dark. I picked her up and carried her to my room.