Lila
Hampton, Virginia
My office feels smaller today, suffocating almost. The sun blazes through the high window, casting harsh shadows across my desk as I type out an email sharing the details of an upcoming air show.
One Alpha will be flying since they’re supposed to be back any day now.
My head throbs—too much coffee, too little sleep.
I rake my hands through my hair, loosening it from the braided crown I wove it into this morning.
Work is the only thing that keeps me moving these days, the only thing that dulls the ache in my chest.
I haven’t thought about him today. Not yet, at least. That’s a win, right?
I take my glasses off my face, tossing them onto my antique writing desk. I’m thankful for the minimal makeup I’m wearing as I rub my tired, scratchy eyes.
A soft knock at the door pulls my attention, and I glance up, sliding my glasses back into place.
Then I see him.
Logan.
My heart slams against my ribs. He stands in the doorway, framed by the morning light, his flight suit clinging to his broad frame, his gray-blue eyes burning into mine with a look that nearly undoes me. There’s light in his eyes again. Quiet strength in his posture that wasn’t there when he left.
But that doesn’t change the fact that he left.
I grip the edge of my desk, the cool wood grounding me against the wave of emotions threatening to pull me under. “What are you doing here?” Maybe a dumb question since he does work here.
His throat works as he swallows. “I had to see you.”
I push my chair back and stand, my pulse hammering. “And you thought ambushing me where we both work was the time to do that?”
“I went to your house first,” he admits, closing the door behind him. “You weren’t there.”
Of course I wasn’t there, it’s not even 10:30 on a Thursday morning. I cross my arms, needing the barrier between us. “You don’t get to do this, Logan. You don’t get to show up and act like nothing happened.”
His jaw tightens, but his voice is quiet when he speaks. “I know.”
The air between us feels thick with everything I don’t have the strength to say. My pulse thrums with too many conflicting emotions. I fight the urge to step outside, to let the crisp autumn air cool the fire burning beneath my skin.
Three months of silence.
I shake my head, disbelief mixing with the hurt. “You were just gone, Logan. And I don’t mean physically. I understand deployment. I understand this life. But leaving…the way that you did and then not a single call. Not even a text or email.”
“I know.” His voice is raw. “I thought I was protecting you.”
My laugh is bitter and sharp. “Protecting me? That’s what you call it?”
“I didn’t know how to fix it. To fix us,” he admits, running a hand through his hair. His thick dark locks are a bit longer on top than when he left but the rest looks freshly cut. “After Ryan, after everything… I didn’t want to drag you into my mess.”
“You didn’t give me the choice,” I whisper.
Pain flashes across his face. “I know. I’m sorry, Lila.”
I want to stay angry. I want to hold on to the hurt because it’s easier than acknowledging how badly I’ve missed him. But my eyes betray me, cataloging the changes in him—the way his left shoulder no longer seems stiff, the way his hands don’t tremble like they did before. He’s steadier. Stronger.
But am I?
“What do you want from me, Logan?” I close my eyes and inhale deeply, slightly frustrated with the way my voice shakes making me sound as weak as I am.
His lips part, and for the first time since he walked through my door, there’s no hesitation. “You.” His voice is sure. “I want you, Lila. I’ve always wanted you.”
I shake my head, backing up, but the wall behind me doesn’t let me go far. “You don’t get to say that. It’s too late.”
“I’m not pretending this is easy. I don’t expect you to forgive me overnight.” He exhales sharply. “But I love you. I never stopped. And I can’t stay away anymore.”
Don’t you get it? I don’t love you.
His words still echo in my mind on a loop.
I blink back the burn of tears. “You can’t just come back and—” My voice breaks. “You already broke us once.”
“I’ll spend the rest of my life proving I won’t do it again.”
The rest of my life.
My breath shudders.
He makes his way toward me, stepping around my desk and stopping less than a foot in front of me. “I’m not asking you to trust me today,” he says, softer now. He reaches for me, his large hand gently cupping my cheek. “I just need you to know that I’m here. That I’m not going anywhere.”
I involuntarily lean into his touch, my eyelids fluttering closed as I breathe him in. It takes me a few long seconds to pull away from his warmth.
I should tell him to leave.
I should protect myself, build my walls higher, make it impossible for him to hurt me again.
But the truth is, I love him.
I love him in a way that defies logic, in a way that feels like both my greatest strength and my deepest wound. And no matter how much I want to deny it, no matter how badly he’s broken me—he’s still the only person who’s ever felt like home.