Lila
Langley AFB
The air in the office is too still.
Logan hasn’t moved from where he leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over his muscular chest. The ink on his right arm is peeking out of one sleeve and I can’t help but wonder if he’s gotten more since Vegas.
He’s watching me like he’s trying to figure something out.
Like he can’t decide if my being here is a good thing or not.
I should say something. Acknowledge it. The unspoken thing between us we haven’t mentioned. I can’t focus on the fully clothed man standing in front of me because my brain insists on replaying the way he looked the last time I saw him.
His eyes fly to mine like he can hear my thoughts.
Instead of addressing anything, I straighten the binders on the shelf that don’t really need straightening. “Thanks for showing me around.”
He chuckles quietly, shifting his stance. “Anytime.” A pause. “Well, not anytime. You might want to ask Townsend before you go scheduling me for office tours.”
I glance up at him, and it’s a mistake, because he’s got that smirk—the one that made my stomach drop all those years ago.
I roll my eyes, but it’s half-hearted. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Another pause. A heavier one this time.
I can feel it, the weight of everything not being said.
I don’t know if he’s dating someone. Married. If he has a whole life that I don’t belong in.
I don’t know why the thought makes taking a deep breath impossible.
I clear my throat. “So…” My voice is too casual, like I’m trying too hard. “How long have you been flying with the demo team?”
His gray-blue eyes widen, just slightly. Like he wasn’t expecting the question. Like he thought I’d ask something else.
He tilts his head, considering. “Almost two years.”
I nod, waiting for him to ask me something back. But he doesn’t. He just keeps looking at me, like he’s still trying to decide what to say.
Like maybe he’s afraid of the answer.
I swallow. “And before that?”
“Operational squadron. Holloman for three years and then Langley.”
I blink. “I worked at Langley all the time.”
He nods, raising one eyebrow. “Yeah?”
“All kinds of events, usually here on base,” I say slowly. “Until I took this job.”
Another pause.
We were on the same base. For years. And somehow, we never crossed paths.
Or maybe we did. Maybe I passed him on the flight line, in the halls, in the commissary—maybe he was there all along, and I just never really looked.
He doesn’t say anything for a long moment. Then, “I wish we ran into each other.” He glances at the floor like he’s surprised himself by saying that.
My stomach tightens.
I don’t know how to reply.
Logan shifts his weight, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, Lila.” He exhales, his gaze meeting mine. “We don’t have to make this weird.”
A dry laugh escapes me before I can stop it. “I think we’re a little past that. I mean, you have proposed to me.” I bite down on my bottom lip, swallowing the rest of the sentence—the part that lists all the other things he's done to me.
A lopsided grin plays at his mouth, but he doesn’t argue.
Silence stretches between us, thick and charged.
Then he takes a small step closer. “Go to dinner with me.”
My breath catches. “What?”
“Dinner,” he says, low and even. “Tonight.”
My pulse stutters.
I don’t know if I should. If I can. We work together now. There have to be rules, right? Expectations. And if anyone found out—
“Nobody has to know,” he murmurs, and I worry I said all of that aloud. “If that’s what’ll make you say yes. But we should probably talk.”
I stare at him, my heart hammering.
I know I should say no. I know it.
But my body is already betraying me, the heat pooling low in my stomach, the ache I’ve tried to forget about for six years.
I swallow hard.
“Okay.” It comes out breathy.
His smile is instant, boyish and genuine.
We exchange numbers and then he’s gone with a promise to pick me up at seven.