Logan
Hampton, Virginia
Lila’s eyes are wide, panic and fear written across her pretty face.
I can’t help but wonder if she’s thinking about her brother. About the last time he deployed. About how when he finally came home it was in a box.
When I saw Townsend’s name flash across my screen, I knew it couldn’t be good.
Earlier today, when he said soon, I didn’t realize he meant this soon.
His tone on the phone had confirmed it. “The base we’re heading to is in dire need of air support.
I can’t tell you much else other than the obvious—we’re that support. ”
She nods, her green eyes brimming with tears. I reach forward, wiping away a stray one that slides down her cheek.
“How long will you be gone?” she manages, her voice small and shaking.
“We don’t know. A couple of months at the least, or…” I trail off, hesitating. I don’t tell her that once I left for what we thought would be two or three months and didn’t come back for thirteen. She doesn’t need that weighing on her.
“You won’t be safe,” she whispers. “If they need air support, wherever you’re going is under siege—or it’s about to be.”
It’s not a question. She’s too smart for that. I don’t bother denying it.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” I say because what else can I say? “I have to pack,” I add, but the words feel hollow.
She stands quickly, sliding off the counter, grabbing her clothes like she can armor herself with athleisure to erase what almost just happened. Her movements are sharp, frantic. Efficient in a way that tells me this isn’t about embarrassment.
It’s fear. And not of me.
Her skin is still flushed, her breathing still unsteady, but her face is pale. Eyes wide. And I can feel her already pulling away, protecting herself from something I don’t fully understand yet.
Frustration tears through me. White-hot and raw.
The military and it’s fucking timing.
My hands are still shaking. My heart’s still pounding with the phantom feel of her legs around me, the lace under my fingertips, the sound of her breath in my ear.
I can still taste her. I rake a hand through my hair, forcing a breath into lungs that haven’t caught up.
Everything in me is still burning, still aching with all the things I’ve wanted since she walked out of that Vegas hotel room.
And for one perfect second, I thought I had her again. Not just her body, all of her.
But now she won’t even look at me.
And I can’t do a damn thing about it.
Lila clears her throat, smoothing her hair back into its braid. “Can I help?” she asks. “Am I allowed to see you off?”
I shake my head, hating the answer. “I’m sorry, but no. In the case of a normal deployment? Of course. But this is anything but normal.”
Her fear tightens the air between us.
“Hey,” I say, stepping closer and grabbing her face in my hands. “Look at me.”
Her green eyes lock on to mine, shining with unshed tears.
“I’m going to be fine. I’ve done this before.
Dozens of times. I fly the most deadly fighter jet in the world.
A ghost, remember?” I try to tease a smile out of her, but Lila doesn’t bite.
“And I’ll be in touch as much as I can,” I add softly.
“It’ll likely be a few days, but I’ll call as soon as I have reception. I promise.”
I lean in and brush my mouth over hers. It’s meant to be one kiss, but the second we connect, I know it won’t be.
Her mouth crashes into mine, desperate and hungry, and I lose track of everything but her.
She drags her fingertips down my chest and I swear every nerve ending fires.
I’m hard again, throbbing against her, my body not giving a damn that I’ve got ten minutes to pack my bag and vanish.
I back her into the counter, my hand slipping beneath her shirt, fingers tracing the warm skin just below her ribs. She whimpers against my mouth.
Fuck, I want her. I want her more than I want my next breath. But I won’t take her like this.
I pull back, pressing my forehead to hers, my breath ragged. “Lila—” I choke out, voice thick, “—if I don’t stop now, I won’t be able to.”
Her eyes flutter open, glassy and full of heat and heartache. I kiss her again, slower this time, lingering on her mouth like I’m trying to memorize the way she tastes. “We’re not doing this for the first time minutes before I walk out the door,” I whisper. “I can’t do that to you.”
Her lips part, and for a second, she doesn’t say anything. Just breathes. Then quietly—brokenly, “I don’t care if it’s not perfect. If it’s not ideal. I just…” Her voice wobbles. “I just want to feel something good before you go.”
Fuck. I want that too.
She takes a step closer, her fingers trailing along my waistband. “Please,” she whispers. “You’re leaving, Logan. And I don’t know when, or even if, you’ll be back.”
I catch her wrists gently, my thumbs brushing over her pulse. “That’s exactly why I can’t,” I say, my voice hoarse. “Because if this is goodbye, I’m not making it a quick fuck in my kitchen.”
She flinches like I slapped her. I curse under my breath and tug her back in.
“That’s not what I meant. I’m coming home.
” I press a kiss to her temple, then her cheek.
“Lila, look at me.” I lift her chin and force her eyes on mine.
“I want you. I want you so bad it hurts. But when we do this, I’m not letting it be rushed.
I’m not walking out two minutes after. You deserve more than that. We deserve more.”
She rests her forehead against my chest, her breath shaky. And I hold her, tighter than I probably should, memorizing the way her body fits against mine.
I pull back gently, grabbing my T-shirt off the floor. “I have to pack.”
She nods stiffly and follows me into my bedroom.
I keep my deployment bag mostly packed since missions sometimes come on suddenly, but there are still a few things to grab. Lila sits on the edge of my bed, her back ramrod straight, her green eyes tracking my every movement as I fold uniforms and check gear.
When I walk over to my nightstand and pull out my spare key, her gaze sharpens.
“Here,” I say, placing it into her palm and curling her fingers around it. “Come here whenever you want. Hell, move in—I don’t care. But you’re welcome here. Always.”
Her lips press together, and she stares at the key like it’s burning her skin.
“I’ve never felt this way before, Lila,” I admit.
She looks up at me with glassy eyes, closing her small hand around the metal key and bringing her knees to her chest. “What way?” Her eyes tell me what she wants me to say, that she’d say it back.
But I can’t do that to her. I can’t tell her I love her as I walk out the door to go who knows where for only God knows how long.
So instead I say, “Like I have something to lose.”
She nods, arms tightening around her legs like she’s holding herself together.
She probably is. The forlorn expression on her face tells me that she may be physically here with me, but mentally, she’s with Lincoln.
Helping him pack his bag. Making him promise to be safe.
She’s there. Almost exactly ten years ago.
The last time he deployed. The last time she saw him alive.
I clench my jaw, grimacing as I tear my fingers through my hair.
She doesn’t know it but I’m the common denominator.
“I’m sorry we haven’t had more time,” I say, leaning down to kiss her quickly before turning back to my bag. She doesn’t register the kiss.
“Logan,” she says, her voice icy now, a contrast to the warmth it usually holds. Her eyes lock with mine, hazy with ghosts of her past. “How will I know if something happens to you?”
I close my eyes, leaning my head back and taking a deep breath.
Lila’s not my next of kin, and I know what that means. She wouldn’t be notified unless I made arrangements.
She has to be remembering. The goodbye. The apprehension. The knock. The memorial. The flyover. The flag. The agony. I stop packing and sit down next to her on the bed, pulling her small, stiff frame into my chest.
“If something happens to me, someone from my squadron will be in touch with you,” I say gently.
“Likely Townsend. I’ll tell him before we leave.
But listen,” I add, tilting her chin up so she has to look at me.
“Nothing is going to happen to me. You hear me? Our story is just beginning. I’ll be back. ”
I plant a kiss in her hair, but the tension in her body doesn’t ease.
***
The ride to the base is quiet, the hum of the engine the only sound. My knuckles grip the wheel so tightly they ache, and my chest feels like it’s caving in. Lila’s face keeps flashing in my mind—the way she tried to hold it together for my sake.
I don’t deserve that kind of grace.
The image of her standing in my doorway, a blanket wrapped tightly around her shoulders, green eyes shining with tears she wouldn't allow to fall, is forever burned into my brain. She kissed me, and watched me leave.
I wish I had Alinna’s or Ivy’s number.
She shouldn't be alone.
When I pull into the lot, I zip up my green flight suit, dropping my phone in my pocket. My boots hit the pavement with purpose, and I stride toward the briefing room with my deployment bag slung over one shoulder.
Inside, the room is already buzzing with activity.
Townsend is standing at the head of the room, his posture straight and commanding, his tone sharp as he addresses the team.
Ryan and Dalton are seated in the second row, their faces serious and focused.
A few high-ranking officers are off to the side, their expressions grim.
The pilots from Charlie are here as well, but they won’t deploy for a month.
“James,” Townsend says as I step inside.
I drop my bag by the door and move to the front. “Major,” I reply.
Townsend clears his throat, commanding the room’s attention.
“Here’s the situation. As of zero four hundred this morning, one of our forward operating bases near the Spratly Islands came under heavy fire from hostile forces.
This isn’t just a minor engagement—it’s a calculated offensive.
They’re targeting key assets and supply routes, attempting to disrupt our strategic foothold in the region.
The base is still under our control, but it’s a tenuous hold at best.”
The map shifts, zooming in on the South China Sea, with the outpost and surrounding waters illuminated on the screen. Red clusters of enemy forces close in on the blue perimeter around the base, tightening like a noose.
Ryan leans forward, his brow furrowed. “What kind of resistance are we looking at?”
“Significant,” Townsend answers bluntly.
“Surface-to-air missile sites, air-to-air combat, and heavy ground fire. Intel suggests they’ve got anti-aircraft artillery stationed near those key supply routes.
You’ll be flying into contested airspace, engaging both air and ground threats.
Expect the worst. This will not be a cake walk. ”
The room is silent for a moment, the weight of his words sinking in.
“How long will they need us?” Dalton asks.
Townsend’s jaw tightens. “The mission length is indefinite. We stay until the base is secure, or until the brass decides otherwise.”
“Which means awhile,” Ryan mutters under his breath.
Townsend’s eyes land on me, and for a second, the weight of his authority feels personal. “James, your experience flying under these conditions will be critical. You’re leading the second sortie team.”
I nod, my voice steady. “Understood, sir.”
Townsend’s gaze softens slightly. “We’re wheels up in an hour.”
***
As the briefing wraps up, I linger behind, waiting until the room has mostly cleared out.
“Major,” I say, stopping Townsend before he can leave.
He raises an eyebrow. “What is it, Captain?”
“Nick, I need you to do me a favor,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper as I talk to my friend instead of my flight commander. “If something happens to me, I need you to contact Lila.”
He studies me, understanding crossing his face. He nods. “Send me her phone number and address. You have my word. But, hey?”
I look up from the ground and make eye contact.
“No one’s ever shot a Raptor out of the sky and I’m not letting the first time be one of ours, you got that?”
“Yes, sir.” I swallow hard, my throat tight, and leave the room.