Chapter 5 #2
Crystal sat with that, the crunch of a Chex piece loud in her ears. “Wow,” she said finally. “You’re either really deep or just quoting Navy motivational posters.”
“Why not both?” he said, and this time, the smile broke through.
“So, what’s the worst thing you’ve eaten out there in SEAL-land? Give me your top three mystery rations.”
“Number three: freeze-dried meat product. Number two: something labeled ‘seafood loaf.’ Don’t ask. Number one…” He shook his head, grim. “Jungle grub. Raw. And crunchy.”
Crystal gagged theatrically. “And you willingly signed up for that life? Remind me never to ask you to cook dinner.”
He smirked. “I can cook. You just have to lower your standards.”
“Oh, trust me, my standards are already subterranean,” she said. Then, quieter, “Still sounds like hell.”
“It was.” His tone flattened, but he didn’t shut down. “Not the food. The waiting. Hours, days, weeks of staring at nothing, listening for something that might never come. Your mind goes places.”
Crystal glanced at him, but he was all shadows and green glints of eyes on the road. “And where does it go now?”
Mason didn’t answer right away. Finally: “Depends who’s in the passenger seat.”
Her chest tightened in a way she refused to name.
They drove on, the Jeep’s rattle settled into a rhythm that almost felt like music. Crystal leaned her head against the glass again, pretending she wasn’t listening hard.
They drove in silence for a stretch, the Jeep humming like it had secrets of its own. Mason’s jaw worked, like he was chewing on something harder than Chex Mix.
“You ever think about the future?” he asked finally.
Crystal arched an eyebrow. “All the time. Usually, while I’m making the ocean mad.”
“I’m serious.” His hands tightened on the wheel. “I got out of the Teams because I was done. But now, I don’t know. I spent years knowing exactly what came next. Orders, missions, objectives. Then one day it’s just… over. Feels like stepping off a ledge.”
Crystal studied him, the hard lines of his face half-lit by the dash. He didn’t look like a man who got lost easily, and yet here he was, admitting it.
“So, what do you want to do now?” she asked.
He gave a small, humorless laugh. “That’s the problem. I don’t know. Protect people? Build something? Hell, maybe just sleep for a year.”
Crystal leaned back, tapping her chin. “Okay, let’s brainstorm this. You could be a lifeguard. You’ve got the ocean experience, plus the abs. I’d pretend-drown just to get your attention.”
Mason shot her a sidelong look. “That’s not a career.”
“Fine. Security guard. Or—ooh! Professional motivational poster model. You’ve got the whole grim and brooding thing nailed.”
“Motivational posters don’t usually feature guys who look like they want to strangle the photographer.”
“Exactly,” she said, grinning. “Game-changer. You could revolutionize the whole industry.”
His laugh this time was real, low, and surprising enough to make her smile back before she remembered she wasn’t supposed to be charmed.
Mason’s laugh faded, and for a moment only the tires hummed against the pavement.
His gaze stayed fixed ahead, unreadable.
“What I do know,” he said slowly, “is what I don’t want.
I don’t want to sit in a bar, telling the same war stories to people who weren’t there.
I don’t want to end up one of those guys who’s still living ten years ago because it’s the only time he mattered. ”
Crystal’s smirk softened at the edges. “So, no VFW bingo nights for you. Got it.”
He huffed out a breath, not quite a laugh. “I don’t want to be useless.”
“That’s your big fear?” she asked. “Being useless?”
He nodded once, eyes still forward. “When the mission’s over, when the team’s gone, sometimes you wonder if the only thing you were good at was violence. And that doesn’t exactly translate to a nine-to-five job.”
Crystal leaned her head back against the seat, considering. “Depends on the nine-to-five. I mean, there’s demolition derby. Or professional bouncer. Or… hear me out. Competitive pumpkin smashing. Although it’s seasonal.”
He finally looked over at her, and she was gratified to see the corner of his mouth lift again. “That’s your solution? Pumpkin smashing?”
“Hey, it’s honest work. And no one minds if you’re violent with a gourd.”
Mason shook his head, but the tension in his jaw eased.
Crystal let the silence stretch a little longer, softer now, before adding, “For what it’s worth, you don’t strike me as useless.”
He didn’t answer right away, but his hands relaxed on the wheel, and that was enough.
For once, Crystal didn’t feel the need to fill the space with sarcasm. She just let it be.
Crystal steered the Jeep up the long drive, gravel popping under the tires as the sun slanted low, painting the world in copper and fire.
At the crest of the rise, the League’s mansion appeared exactly as it always had, stately stonework, tall windows flashing with sunset, ivy climbing neatly in place.
It looked rooted, permanent, untouchable.
Mason sat forward, frowning. “I thought the house was gone.”
“It is,” Crystal said, cutting the engine. Dust curled around them before sinking back into the shadows.
He turned toward her sharply. “Then what am I looking at?”
She pushed her door open and leaned on it casually, like she’d explained this a hundred times. “A glamour. To keep the neighbors from calling the historical society or googling it on Zillow. Makes it look like nothing’s changed.”
Mason glanced back. The mansion gleamed against the sky, every window alight, every edge crisp. He could swear he smelled the fireplaces burning. “Looks real enough to me.”
“That’s the idea,” Crystal said as he climbed out.
She pointed with her chin. “What’s actually here is the garage with Raoul’s little apartment above it, and that shed the League keeps full of kayaks and paddleboards, along with my diving gear.
We don’t need those things in the mountains.
The glamour drapes over the whole property, smooth as silk. ”
Sure enough, as Mason’s eyes adjusted, he caught the faint shimmer, a glint like a heat mirage at the edges of the image. When he focused past it, the truth peeked through.
“So, what now?” he asked.
Crystal didn’t answer. The ocean was tugging at her, insistent as a hook in her sternum. She walked past the shed until the bluff opened wide before her.
The Atlantic stretched vast and restless, gilded by sunset, waves rolling like breath. Wind slapped her hair across her face, and she closed her eyes.
It hit like nerve endings waking after numbness. The sea roared inside her chest, electric, every wave a pulse, every gust a warning. It was hunger and promise all at once.
Crystal exhaled, barely more than a whisper. “Now, you look and listen. Meanwhile, I dive.”