Tacoma, Washington June 2017

“I know you’re not trying to talk me out of going three hours before my flight,” I grumbled from the passenger seat of Torres’s truck as we sped toward the airport.

Sped because he’d talked me into one last workout before leaving.

“Of course not.” He shot me a look before passing an SUV and cutting across three lanes of traffic. “I saw how much you paid for those tickets.” His dark brows furrowed.

“Go ahead and say the but, because I know one is coming.” My weight shifted as he took the off-ramp. I was starting to wish I’d driven myself and just paid to park my truck at the airport.

“Do you even realize how lucky we are to both have passed selection?” He hit the brakes hard at the stoplight.

The fact that I passed psych was a miracle, but I’d gotten pretty good at giving the answers they wanted to hear.

“I do.” We’d spent nine weeks in North Carolina proving ourselves for Special Forces Assessment and Selection, and both Torres and I had made it, along with Rowell and another guy from our unit, Pierson, which made sense since the four of us had spent the last eighteen months training both on and off deployment.

It had been hell, but it had been worth it.

Pierson was thrilled to make it, but I knew this was just a stepping stone for Torres and Rowell . . . and for me. That long-ago thought I’d had on the plane with Izzy, that it would be cool to make Special Forces, was

now a very real, very actualized dream. I was damn good at what I did, and I had to admit: I wanted to be the best.

“And you’re just going to jet off to Fiji, knowing that we’ll only have a couple weeks to get ready to PCS to Bragg.” The light changed, and he turned toward the airport.

“I’ve been talking about this trip with Izzy for years,” I said, recognizing how defensive that sounded. “And it’s not like a vacation is going to get extended. I’ll be back in time to leave for Bragg.” I hadn’t seen her since Mom’s funeral six months ago, and the terms we’d left on hadn’t exactly been clear. We’d spent that night together, never talking about Mom, or our lack of a future, or anything that mattered outside that room. I’d left her asleep and sated, the sheets tangled in her long, beautiful legs, choosing to let her sleep instead of waking her for what was bound to be an awkward goodbye.

That night lived in my dreams.

Her mother snapping that she was chasing after a soldier . . . that lived in my nightmares. Knowing Izzy was out of my league and hearing it directly from her mother were two different things.

“You’d better be back. We said we were doing this together.” Torres glanced sideways at me.

“Yeah, yeah.” I shook my head. He was my best friend, and there was no one I’d want to go through it with, but he was a little intense these days. Or maybe my focus was just on getting to Izzy. “I know. Get through Q Course, and then it’s all about Delta.”

“It’s going to be awesome.” He grinned. “My old man is going to flip that I’m following in those boots.”

I couldn’t help but smile at how happy he was.

“Does your non-girlfriend know?” he asked as we pulled up in front of the departures drop-off point.

My stomach sank as I climbed out of the cab, shutting the front door, only to open the back one for my bags.

“You’ve told her, right?” The look on his face was equal parts judgment and worry. “Because from what I know about Izzy, she’s going to want some path forward, considering she just graduated law school.”

“I’ll tell her.” I shouldered my backpack and hefted my suitcase to the sidewalk.

“Where the hell does she think you’ve been for the past few months?”

A grimace crossed my face. “I didn’t really explain it.” “But you’ve told her that you’re back.”

“I . . . sent her an email a couple weeks ago to make sure we were still on for the trip.” Everything I had to say to her needed to be said in person, which wasn’t an opportunity we’d had.

“You’re seriously going to get on that plane, hope she shows up at LAX, and then what . . . pray she didn’t get a boyfriend who can actually be around in the last six months?”

“Pretty much.” She’d said she was coming, but the email had been short, which I’d expected given the timing of her finals. Didn’t mean my stomach wasn’t in knots that she might have changed her mind. We’d both bought tickets in January, and I’d covered the resort, but the financial cost would be nothing compared to the blow of knowing I’d messed up our entire relationship because I hadn’t been able to keep my hands to myself six months ago.

“Right.” He pulled his sunglasses down and looked over the rims. “That whole we-live-in-a-gray-area thing you have going on is eventually biting you in the ass.”

“I know.” I sighed. “But until it does, I’m not messing with the only good thing I have in my life.”

“Don’t forget that you passed selection for Special Forces. That’s a pretty badass thing you have going for you.” He grinned back at me.

“Truth. We are pretty badass. Thanks for the ride.” I pulled my Saint Louis Blues cap down and shut his door.

Five hours later, I waited at the gate in Los Angeles for flight 4482 to Nandi, tapping my foot with more than a little nervous energy as the minutes counted down. I checked the boarding pass again and made sure I was at the right gate. I was.

Izzy wasn’t here.

I picked up my phone and debated calling, but knowing she wasn’t coming now as opposed to fifteen minutes from now wasn’t going to change anything. At least that was the lie I told myself. Fear turned my blood to ice.

Our emails had been shorter and shorter over the last few months.

Our phone calls had been nonexistent between the deployment and selection.

She had every right to change her mind, to date, to fall in love with someone else. God knew if she was mine, really, honestly mine, there was no way in hell I’d be comfortable with her flying off to Fiji with another man for a week.

Minutes ticked by, and the attendant told the people around me in their vacation clothes, an overabundance of flowered shirts and cargo shorts, to prepare to board.

They called passengers to preboard, and I stood, shifting my backpack to my shoulder as I surveyed everyone around me, looking for a flash of blonde hair and sparkling brown eyes.

Then the attendant called our group to board. Holy fucking shit. This was actually happening.

There was still time, though, and Izzy wasn’t the kind of woman to stand someone up. She would have called. Written. Sent a carrier pigeon to tell me she was pissed or not coming.

I moved into line, scanned my ticket at the entrance to the gateway, and then walked down the jet bridge, my heart pounding with every step. By the time I found my seat, and hers empty next to it, the pounding had become a dull roar in my ears.

I took the seat next to the window because she’d never been comfortable there after the crash, and then I did the only thing I could— wait. Raising the shade on the window, I looked out over the tarmac and tried to find anything out there worth distracting myself with. When that didn’t work, I pulled out my copy of Catch-22 and a highlighter.

Was I supposed to get off? Go by myself? Fly straight to DC and beg her to talk to me?

The scent of Chanel wrapped around me like a lover, and I smiled. “That was close,” she said, and my head whipped toward her. Those

were the first words I’d ever spoken to her in a plane considerably smaller than this one. Izzy’s eyes were a little red and puffy, like she’d been crying but had stopped hours ago, and her smile was bright as she sank into her seat. “My flight was delayed out of DC.”

“Hey, Izzy.” My gaze devoured her, taking in the loose sweep of her hair up to the bun she wore, a few strands of the honey blonde falling around her face, and the curve of her soft lips. I needed to lean across the small barrier between our seats and kiss the shit out of her. I’d missed her more than I’d let myself realize.

“Hey, Nate,” she said softly, scanning over my features like she was looking for new scars, new injuries to catalog. There were none where she could see.

“You’ve been crying.” My stomach tightened. She nodded.

“Want to talk about it?” All she had to do was tell me who to kill, and they’d be dead.

“I broke up with someone I liked.” She shrugged. “This trip wouldn’t have been fair to him. I don’t regret it. It was the right choice.” She fastened her seat belt and reached for my hand, locking our fingers.

It was hard to breathe under the weight of guilt of knowing I was the reason she was hurting, but with the simple touch of her hand in mine, I was home.

“Izzy,” I whispered, unable to put my feelings to words as pain settled in my chest. There was nothing I wouldn’t do to keep her from pain, even if it meant I wasn’t her choice. “You didn’t have to. And you don’t have to come now. You can walk off this plane, and there will be no hard feelings.”

“But I did have to break up with him.” She sighed, leaning back and turning so her cheek rested against the seat as she looked at me. “Because it didn’t matter how much I liked him. I would rather spend a week with you than a lifetime with him. That wasn’t fair to either of us, you know?”

I thought about the relationships I’d ended because I knew I’d be seeing Izzy soon, or because I’d realized that nothing compared to the way I felt around her.

“Yeah. I know.” The pain in my chest expanded, and I picked up her hand, pressing a kiss to the soft skin of the back of it. I would make it up to her. I had to.

The water lapped at our feet twenty-four hours later as we walked down the deserted beach. We’d flown, then flown again, then passed out side by side once we’d reached our overwater bungalow that had cost me more than I even wanted to think about.

I slept my first full night in what felt like years, and waking up beside her, watching the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest, was the closest I’d ever been to heaven.

Or maybe that was right now, watching her smile down at the water, the sun kissing her bare shoulders in her sundress.

“So, what are you thinking for next year?” she asked.

“We haven’t even been here a full day and you’re asking about next year?” I slipped my hand into my pocket, fumbling with the little box I’d brought along. “I’m still thinking about renting those WaveRunners or going for a hike later.”

She tucked her hair behind her ear and grinned up at me. “It gives me something to look forward to. I mean, it took us two years just to get here, so who knows how long it will take us to get another trip.”

“Solid point.” I glanced around at the beauty of the island, the lush vegetation, pale sand, and aqua waters that no picture could capture. “I’m still surprised we made it here.”

“Me too.” She glanced down my torso, her gaze heating in a look that made me wish we’d stayed in the bungalow. Not that I was making any assumptions. I’d happily keep my hands in my pockets if that meant I’d have a week with her. Her brow furrowed, and she stepped in front of me, stopping me in my tracks. “What’s that?” She trailed a fingertip down a scar barely visible in the sleeve of my tattoo.

Of course she’d noticed. I couldn’t get anything by Izzy. Whether or not she chose to ask, to open topics I didn’t want to discuss, to poke for answers, she noticed.

“Nothing to worry about,” I assured her. She shot an arched brow at me.

“It was a piece of shrapnel.” I shrugged. “Right around when I went back after Mom’s—” I swallowed, and her gaze jumped to meet mine. “It was really nothing. Four stitches and some antibiotics.”

Her lips pursed, and her grip on my arm shifted so she could run her thumb over it. “I feel like you have more of these every time I see you.”

“That’s because I do.”

“And you’re okay with that?” Her hand fell away, and her face fell. “It’s my job.” And if what I did over there made it even slightly safer

for her to sleep at night, then it was worth it.

She looked away, and my stomach lurched. “How many years do you have to serve for the military to pay for college, anyway?”

“Oh, I’m way past that.” I regretted the words the second they left my mouth. “Speaking of passing things . . .” I brought out the small box from

my pocket. “I’m not sure I’ve said congratulations for graduating law school yet.”

Her eyes widened as I held out the velvet box. “Nate . . .” “Take it. It’s not going to bite you, Iz.” I grinned.

“Don’t do that.” She glared at me, then stared at the box.

“Do what? Buy you gifts?” I shook the little box right in front of her pert nose. “What else am I going to do with the massive amounts of hazard pay I’m racking up?”

“Flash that little dimple of yours like it’s going to distract me.” Two cute little lines appeared in her forehead.

“My dimple distracts you?” Shit, I needed to use that to my advantage more often, which would require actually being able to see her more often.

“Stop changing the subject. What is that?” She pointed to the box. “You could open it and find out.” I couldn’t stop grinning now.

“Nate.” She sucked in a breath. “It’s just that it’s a small box. A really small velvet box, and you and I have never defined whatever this is, and that’s been okay with me, but I really need to be prepared if that box is the box, and normally I’d just laugh it off, but we’re in Fiji, on the beach and

—”

I laughed. “Relax, Izzy. It’s not a ring. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Oh good.” Her shoulders sagged. “Wait.” She jerked her head back up to look at me. “What do you mean do that to me?”

I cocked my head to the side and tried to smother my smile. “Is it always this difficult for you to accept a gift? I mean, the last thing I’d ever do is shove a ring at you and ask you to give up everything you’ve worked for without giving us a chance to build something first. That wouldn’t be fair to you.” And I wasn’t sure she’d say yes, anyway. She’d probably never admit it, but she craved her parents’ approval on a level I wasn’t sure she even realized, and I was far from their ideal husband for their daughter. No trust fund. No political connections.

“Oh.” That oh sounded entirely different from the first one, but I couldn’t decide if it was in a good way or a bad way.

“Present, Izzy. Present.” I shook the box.

“Thank you.” She plucked the box from my hand, and I memorized the moment. The excitement in her eyes, the soft bite of her teeth into her lower lip, the way she bounced slightly on the balls of her bare feet.

Feelings I couldn’t comprehend exploded in my chest. How could I need this woman so much and see her so little? How could she mean everything and yet exist in a completely different world from the one I lived in?

She opened the box and gasped, her shocked gaze leaping to mine. “Nate, you shouldn’t have.”

And there I went, grinning again. I never smiled as much as I did when I was with Izzy. “I absolutely should have. I’m incredibly proud of you.”

“They must have cost you a fortune.” She looked at the diamond stud earrings I’d ordered from the store with the blue boxes. “Can you hold it?” She handed the box back.

I nodded and took the box while she changed out the earrings she was already wearing, putting the current ones in the box. “I can carry it,” I told her, and put the box back in my pocket.

“How do they look?” She turned her head, letting the sun catch the stones.

“Not as beautiful as you are, but they’ll do.” I took out my phone and turned on the camera app, flipping it to selfie mode so she could see how gorgeous she was.

“Take a picture with me.” She tugged on my arm, and I went, snapping a quick series of selfies and kissing her cheek on the last one. “They’re amazing. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” I kissed her forehead and let her go. If she was fresh off a breakup, the last thing she’d want or need was me pawing on her. “I was thinking Palau.” She turned, walking backward to face me, her

smile brighter than the sun.

“Palau?” Damn, she was gorgeous. “For next year.”

“Right.” I swallowed through the growing tightness in my throat. “And maybe Peru the year after that. We could hike up to Machu Picchu.” If I could get leave. If we weren’t on deployment. If we weren’t headed for assessment for Delta.

“That sounds like fun.” She held out her hand, and I took it. “I’ll have to ask for time off, though. Going in October would give me more than a year at my new firm—assuming I pass the bar. I’m sitting for it soon. Hard to believe I’m finally out of school.”

“You’ve done great.”

We walked in silence for a few moments. “So I have a few interviews lined up at some really great firms. At least the ones that will talk to me before the bar.”

“Tell me about them.” I could’ve listened to her talk forever.

“One is in Boston, and there’s one in New York I like and another that I really, really like.” She looked up at me beneath her lashes, and her cheeks flushed. “Two in Seattle, and one in Tacoma. They all have reciprocity, so as long as I pass the bar in DC, I should be good.”

I blinked, pausing, then turning toward her. “Tacoma and Seattle.”

She nodded, and her breath caught as she searched my eyes for an answer I didn’t have to give her. “I was thinking, which is always dangerous, but I can’t seem to stop myself, which is why I broke up with Luke—”

Luke. Didn’t know him and already fucking loathed him.

“Not just because of this trip, but because we’ve been dancing around each other for years, Nate. Years. And we keep saying that the time isn’t right, and that we owe ourselves a real, true shot and not some half-assed long-distance tragedy, right?” She moved toward me, gripping my biceps. “I’m realizing that it doesn’t matter who I date. They’re all just placeholders because I’m waiting for you. Waiting for us.”

“Izzy.” I cradled the side of her face, soaking in every single word and rejecting them at the same time.

“I’ve graduated now, Nate. I can go anywhere. Do anything. You could get out if you wanted to.” Her grip tightened, and the intensity in her eyes, her tone, made my heart clench. “We could be together. Not just send emails and letters and highlighted books, but actually be together. We could wake up next to each other if we wanted to, or even just date. I can move to Tacoma if you want me to—”

“I won’t be in Tacoma,” I said softly. “What?” Her brow knit.

“I can’t get out, and I won’t be in Tacoma.” I slid my thumb over the high rise of her cheekbone, relishing how soft her skin was. “I’ll be at Fort Bragg.”

“Fort Bragg?”

“North Carolina.” I nodded slowly, like it might soften the blow. “I haven’t told you where I’ve been the last few months. Why my emails

weren’t as frequent.”

“I figured you were deployed.” She drew back.

“No. I was at selection. It’s like . . .” How the hell did I describe it? “Tryouts for Special Forces.”

“You went with Torres,” she said. “That’s what he always wanted to do, right?”

“Right.” I always knew she read my letters, but damn did she pay attention too. “Four of us went. Rowell—he’s my other best friend—”

“Justin and Julian. I remember.” “Pierson too. We all made it.”

“Of course you made it.” She forced a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes as she stepped back, out of my reach. “You’re not getting out. You’re getting in deeper.”

I nodded again, like I was a plastic bobblehead. “Yeah. It’ll be about a year of training, and then . . .” The words wouldn’t come. “And then we’ll see where I go after that.”

“Then we’ll see.” She tugged her hair behind her ears, and the ocean breeze blew the strands loose again.

“I highly doubt they have the kinds of law firms you’re looking at in Fayetteville.” I shoved my hands into my pockets. “You’re probably interviewing at all the glitzy firms, right? The high-paying, high-rise, high- clout ones.”

“Yes. I’m looking at the firms that make the most impact, the places I can make the biggest difference, but . . . I don’t have to.” She took another step backward, and then another, until the waves lapped over her feet.

“Yeah, you do. I’m never going to be the guy who holds you back, Izzy. Never going to be that asshole that demands you give up everything for what he wants.” I kept my feet firmly planted in the sand and didn’t reach for her. “It would be so easy to tell you yes, to move to Fayetteville and get in with a practice there for a year. And then easy to tell you to pack up and move with me again to wherever they’ll send me next. Easy to be with you, easy to make this thing between us . . .” I looked down at the sand.

“Why is it that I always have too many words and you never have enough?”

A sad smile tugged at my mouth as I slowly raised my eyes to meet hers. “Because we balance each other out. And that means I’m not going to

watch that light in your eyes turn to resentment when you realize I’m the reason you don’t achieve everything you’ve worked for. I won’t be able to live with myself if I’m always holding you back.”

“So this is all we get?” She threw her arms out. “Moments that we have to carve out, never actually able to share our lives?”

“The sky is cloudless. That water is crystal clear. And you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Isabeau. If this is all we get, then it’s pretty great.”

She took a shaky breath. “I know I told you that I’d rather spend a week with you than forever with him.”

I held my breath.

“But I’m not going to wait around forever, Nate. There’s going to come a moment where we either have to take our shot or we let each other go.”

“I know.” That knowledge haunted me more than the nightmares. “Because it’s not like you and I could ever be just friends.”

“I know.”

“Maybe you could,” she said, kicking at the ankle-deep water. “But I can’t. Not now that I know what it feels like to have you. I’ll never be able to look at you and not want you.”

Even the small amount of distance between us now was killing me. “It’s the same for me.”

Her shoulders dipped, and she threw her head back at the sky. “Why is our timing always shit?”

“Because nothing worth having is easy.”

“Just . . . promise me you’ll think about it while we’re here, okay?” She looked back at me. “Think about what it could be like if we became more than a possibility.”

“Yeah. I can do that.” I thought about it more than she knew and always came to the same conclusion, but it was impossible to deny her request.

Her answering smile was worth it. “We have the week. So get over here and kiss me in the water like I’ve been dreaming about, Nathaniel Phelan.”

She didn’t have to tell me twice.