Chapter 10
ANDI
One Week Later
Morning sun streams through my office windows, illuminating the habitat survey maps on my bulletin board.
One week after Duke took Hutchins down in the wetlands, I walk into this space and it actually feels like it belongs to me.
Not because of ownership, but because I earned it through competence and refusing to let hatred drive me away.
Hutchins is in the brig awaiting court-martial. Base life is returning to normal. And I'm trying to figure out what comes next.
My phone buzzes with a text from Devlin.
Morning followed by a coffee cup emoji. We've fallen into a rhythm this past week—checking in throughout the day, me stopping by the K9 facility during lunch to watch Duke work, both of us figuring out what it means to be together without crisis forcing proximity.
It feels real in a way nothing has since Tyler died, which is both reassuring and unsettling.
The knock on my door pulls me from my thoughts. Vincent Alder from environmental services pokes his head in, weathered face breaking into a grin.
"Morning, Andi. Got a minute?"
"Sure, come in." I gesture to the chair across from my desk.
He settles in with a grunt, setting a clipboard on his knee. "Just wanted to coordinate on the south perimeter habitat barriers. We're seeing increased nesting activity in the deterrent zones, which means the system's working exactly like you said it would."
"That's good news." I pull up the aerial survey data on my screen. "The barriers are redirecting flight patterns away from the runway approach without disrupting natural migration. Win-win."
"More than that." Vincent leans back, studying me with direct assessment I've gotten used to from the older base personnel. "You save lives with this work. Mine included. I've got grandkids who need me around, and I fly on those planes for inspections. So thank you."
The gratitude catches me off guard. "Just doing my job."
"Maybe. But you did it despite someone trying to run you off base." He stands, collecting his clipboard. "That takes guts. Glad you stuck around."
After he leaves, I sit with his words for a moment.
The base community has been mostly supportive since Hutchins' arrest, though there are still pockets of resistance to change.
But Vincent represents something important—proof that competence and results matter more than gender or civilian versus military status.
Lieutenant Colonel Cain requested a meeting this morning. The official reason is to discuss next quarter's protocol expansion, but her assistant mentioned a commendation.
Cain's assistant waves me in immediately. The lieutenant colonel stands when I enter, gesturing to the chair across from her desk.
"Andi, have a seat." She waits until I'm settled. "I wanted to personally commend you for your work here at Ridgeway. Your habitat management protocols have exceeded expectations, and your handling of the recent situation with Master Sergeant Hutchins was exemplary."
"Thank you, ma'am. The protocols were implemented with full cooperation from base personnel. It was a team effort."
"You can deflect all you want, but the results speak for themselves.
" She slides a folder across the desk. "Your contract is being extended with increased funding for expansion into additional installations.
Command wants your protocols standardized across the region.
Consider this official recognition that you've proven yourself beyond any doubt. "
The meaning behind her words is clear. Hutchins' worldview lost. Competence won.
"I appreciate the confidence. I'm ready to expand the program whenever command gives authorization."
"Good." She closes the folder with finality. "One more thing. Master Sergeant Hutchins' court-martial begins next week. You'll be called to testify. I wanted to give you advance notice."
The ice that runs down my spine at his name is familiar, but I refuse to let it show. "I'm ready. The evidence is clear."
"I have no doubt." Cain's expression softens slightly. "What happened to you was unacceptable. His conviction will send the right message about accountability."
When I leave Cain's office, my phone buzzes. This time it's Mom.
Lunch at the diner? Need to talk.
I text back confirmation and spend the rest of the morning finishing reports. At noon, I head out. The drive to Pine Valley takes twenty minutes, familiar roads winding through coastal scrub starting to green with spring growth.
The diner is busy with lunch rush when I arrive. Scents of bacon grease and fresh coffee mingle with the yeasty smell of bread baking. Mom spots me immediately, waving me toward the booth in the back corner.
"You look better," she says once I'm seated, sliding a menu across even though we both know I'm getting the grilled chicken sandwich. "Color's back in your face."
"Someone tried to kill me a week ago." I keep my tone light. "The bar for improvement was pretty low."
"Don't deflect with humor, Andrea." She uses my full name, which means we're having the conversation I suspected. "I want to know about Devlin."
The waitress appears before I have to answer. Sally, who's worked here for years and knows both our orders by heart, pulls out her notepad anyway. "The usual for you ladies?"
"Please," Mom says. "And bring Andi some sweet tea. She looks like she needs it."
Sally nods and disappears toward the kitchen. Mom waits, hands folded on the table, giving me space to organize my thoughts.
"Devlin is steady," I finally say. "Kind. Completely different from what I expected when I first met him. Duke has decided I'm part of their pack, which apparently means I'm stuck with both of them."
"And how do you feel about that?" Mom asks. "Being stuck?"
The question deserves a real answer. "It's different than Tyler.
Tyler and I grew up together, knew each other's families, built something that felt safe and predictable.
Devlin is none of those things. He's intense and protective and he doesn't let me hide behind my walls.
Being with him feels like choosing the unknown. "
Mom reaches across the table to squeeze my hand. "That's not a bad thing, sweetheart. Tyler was wonderful, and you loved him. But you can't build a future by trying to recreate the past. The question is whether you're ready for something new."
"What if it doesn't work?" The concern spills out before I can stop it.
"Then you'll handle it the same way you've handled everything else," Mom interrupts, her voice firm but gentle.
"By being strong and stubborn. But Andrea, you can't let what-ifs stop you from living.
Your father wouldn't want that. Tyler wouldn't want that.
And I sure as hell don't want that for you. "
Sally returns with our food, setting down plates with practiced efficiency. The grilled chicken sandwich comes with a side of coleslaw and fries, steam rising from the golden potatoes. Mom's turkey club looks perfect as always, cut into neat triangles the way she prefers.
I pick up a fry, salt and grease familiar on my tongue. "I do love him."
"I know." Mom's smile is warm as she takes a bite of her sandwich. "And that man clearly adores you. So stop overthinking it and just see where it goes."
We eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, ambient noise of the diner filling the space between us. Old Joe at the counter catches my eye and raises his mug in greeting. I wave back, struck by how normal this all feels. How life keeps moving forward despite everything.
"How's work going otherwise?" Mom asks, dabbing her napkin at the corner of her mouth. "Besides the commendation and expansion?"
"Good. Vincent Alder stopped by this morning to thank me for the habitat protocols. Said they saved lives, including his." I pause, considering. "I haven't thought about it that way. I've been so focused on the data and implementation that I forgot about the actual people benefiting from the work."
"That's the difference between you and someone like Hutchins," Mom says quietly. "You do the work because it matters, not because you need recognition or validation. The results speak for themselves."
The conversation shifts to lighter topics after that.
Mom tells me about the new server who keeps mixing up orders, about tourist season picking up as weather warms, about the regular who proposed to his girlfriend in the back booth last week.
Normal life continuing, ordinary moments that feel precious after the chaos of the past weeks.
By the time we finish eating and I head back to base, something in my chest feels looser. Like Mom gave me permission to stop punishing myself for surviving, for wanting something good, for choosing to move forward.
The following week passes in a blur of work and preparation for testimony.
Devlin stops by my office one afternoon with Duke, ostensibly to coordinate on a training exercise near my survey sites, but really just to check on me.
Duke immediately comes over for attention, pushing his massive head under my hand for ear scratches.
"Ready for next week?" Devlin asks, leaning against my desk with his arms crossed.
"As ready as I'll ever be." I focus on Duke, letting the solid warmth of him ground me. "It's just testimony. I know what happened. The evidence is clear."
"Still not easy." Devlin's voice is quiet, understanding. "Facing him again."
"No," I admit. "But it's necessary. And I'm not doing it alone."
The look he gives me carries weight I'm still learning to interpret. Not pity, not worry, but something steadier. Like he believes in my ability to handle this, but he's going to be there anyway.
When the court-martial finally arrives, I dress in professional civilian attire—navy slacks, white blouse, low heels that won't make noise on the courtroom floor. The drive to the base legal offices feels surreal, like I'm watching myself from a distance.