Lila
Hampton, Virginia
I actually managed to sleep at home last night. After Ivy and Alinna left, I contemplated going back to Logan’s, but I was tired and I wanted to take a hot bath in my clawfoot tub and sleep in my own bed.
I’m standing in my kitchen watching my Nespresso brew some much-needed coffee. I’ve missed my dark green cabinets, exposed brick backsplash, and the butcher block countertops. The brass finishes sparkle in the morning sunlight, shining through the abundance of windows overlooking my small backyard.
It’s been too quiet this morning, this kind of foggy, humid silence. I’ve tried keeping busy, cleaning the fridge, organizing the pantry, even rearranging the bookshelves in my office, but nothing helps.
My thoughts keep drifting back to Logan.
I reach for my phone, hoping for a text or missed call, but instead, there’s a breaking news alert lighting up my screen.
Attack Reported on U.S. Military Base in the South China Sea Region.
I choke on the words, sending myself into a coughing fit as I tap the notification, my hands trembling. The article doesn’t say much, just that an unnamed U.S. base in the region came under attack late last night. No details.
My stomach twists.
Logan hasn’t told me where he is, but I can’t shake the feeling that I just found out.
I try to breathe, but my chest feels too tight. I set my phone down and start pacing, the worst-case scenarios flashing through my mind.
I hate this.
I hate not knowing.
The phone vibrates again, and I snatch it up, praying it’s Logan. It’s not. It’s Ivy.
“Did you see the news?” she asks, skipping any kind of greeting. Her voice is tight, serious.
“Yeah,” I whisper, my throat dry. “Do you think it’s Logan’s base?”
“I don’t know,” she says cautiously. “But I figured if you'd seen the article, you’d be freaking out. Are you okay?”
“No,” I admit, my voice breaking. I grip the edge of the counter, trying to stay upright. “I haven’t heard from him since Thursday morning. A couple of days is normal but what if—”
“Don’t,” Ivy says firmly. “Don’t go there. Logan’s not going down without a fight. He’ll get through this.”
“But what if that’s not enough?” I snap, the fear spilling over.
She doesn’t respond right away, and the silence feels unbearable.
“Do you have any way to contact him?” she asks eventually.
“No,” I mutter. “It’s not like he can just call me whenever he wants. I’m lucky I get to talk to him when I do. Reception is spotty.”
Ivy’s voice softens. “Okay, then you wait. I know it sucks, but you wait. He’ll call as soon as he can, and until then, you have to trust him.” She takes a breath. “And besides, this may not even be his base.”
She doesn’t believe the words she’s saying. That much is evident.
I bite back a sob, hating how powerless I feel. I thank her quickly and hang up, but her words do little to calm me.
The military is deployed all over the world. It could very easily be a different base. But was another base on high alert for an imminent attack, too? It’s possible, maybe even likely.
But my gut tells me no.
The hours drag by, each one feeling like a lifetime.
The sun dips lower, painting the sky with streaks of orange and pink, but I still haven’t heard anything. Every sound makes me jump, and I can’t stop checking my phone, refreshing the news, hoping for any kind of update.
When it finally buzzes, I nearly drop it in my rush to answer. The number is unfamiliar, but I don’t care.
“Hello?” I say breathlessly.
“Lila, it’s Nick.” His voice is tense, and my stomach sinks instantly.
“Nick? What’s going on? Is Logan okay?”
There’s a pause, long enough to make my heart pound in my ears.
If something happens to me, someone from my squadron will be in touch with you.
Likely Townsend.
“He’s alive,” Nick says finally. His tone is heavy, too heavy, and I grip the edge of the counter to stay upright.
“But…” I can’t even finish the question.
“There was an attack on the base,” Nick says, his voice low and controlled, like he’s trying to keep it together. “We were hit hard. Six people…didn’t make it.” He pauses again, and I can hear him swallow on the other end. “Carter was one of them.”
I sink into the nearest chair, my legs giving out beneath me. “Ryan?” My voice cracks on his name.
“We’re still assessing everything,” Nick continues, his words clipped, like he’s forcing himself to say them.
“Logan wanted me to call you. He can’t right now…
he’s in the medical bay. Took some shrapnel to his shoulder and had surgery last night.
He’s with the doctors, going over his treatment plan.
They’re making sure he’ll be good to get back in the cockpit once he’s healed up. ”
My breath catches, tears stinging my eyes. “Shrapnel. Surgery. Is he…” I stutter as the tears begin to fall. “Is he okay?” What a stupid question. I close my eyes, biting down on my thumb.
“Physically, he’ll be okay, Lila. It was bad, almost lost his arm, but they expect him to recover. He asked me to call you because he didn’t want you waiting any longer. He’ll call as soon as he can, I promise.”
I press my hand to my chest, trying to breathe past the crushing weight of his words. “Six people,” I whisper, the number sticking in my throat. “Ryan…”
“I know,” Nick says softly, his voice raw. “He was one of the best. We all…we all feel it.”
Tears blur my vision, and I blink them away, clutching the phone like it’s the only thing tethering me to reality. “How’s Logan handling…” I trail off, my voice barely audible.
“He’s in shock, I think,” Nick says after a pause. “It hit him hard, Lila. Carter was…he was family to all of us, but Logan—” He exhales sharply. “He’ll need you when he can get back in touch. Just…be ready for that.”
I nod, even though Nick can’t see me. “Thank you,” I whisper.
For a moment, there’s silence between us, thick with grief.
“Take care of yourself, Lila,” Nick says finally. His tone softens, just barely. “And take care of him when he gets home.”
“Is that happening soon?” My voice pitches with hope.
“Yeah, we’re being granted emergency leave for Carter’s memorial. Only a few days. But we’ll be home at the end of the week.”
“Okay, thank you for telling me.”
“I’ll have Logan call you today.”
The line goes dead, and I sit there, staring at the phone in my hands, trying to process what I just heard. Logan is alive. He’s okay. But Ryan…Ryan is gone. Six people are gone. And even though Logan survived, I know this will leave scars on him, on all of them.
Tears spill over, and this time I don’t bother wiping them away. The relief that Logan is alive is swallowed by the grief and fear I can’t seem to shake. He’s safe, for now—but I know this isn’t over.
And neither is the waiting.