Chapter 3: The Morning After

I wasn’t supposed to think about her.

But as I sat at my uncle’s kitchen table, sipping coffee that tasted like burnt regret, she was all I could think about.

I had left last night.

Got dressed. Walked out. Didn’t look back.

I did everything right.

And yet, I barely slept.

I spent half the night staring at the ceiling, playing back the way she looked at me when I kissed her forehead instead of her lips. The way she let me go without a word, like she already knew I wasn’t the kind of man who stayed.

Like she knew I couldn’t be.

I should have felt relief.

Instead, I felt like a coward.

Like an addict in withdrawal.

I gritted my teeth, gripping the edge of the table. She was under my skin now, and I hated it.

I hated the way I could still feel her fingertips dragging down my back. The way her voice curled around my name like she wanted to keep it. The way her breath hitched when I touched her like I was the only man who had ever touched her like that.

I hated it because I knew I wasn’t supposed to have her.

Because she deserved better than me.

Because I had already started breaking the rules I set for myself.

A loud ‘clank’ snapped me out of it.

My uncle was banging around in the kitchen, muttering something under his breath about "damn grocery stores moving everything around".

I exhaled slowly, rubbing the tension from the back of my neck.

This house—his house—wasn’t mine.

It was just another stop, another place to pass through on my way to the next thing. A temporary roof over my head while I waited for Quantico.

That was how my life worked.

My uncle shuffled into the room, scratching his stomach, squinting at me like he was trying to place me in his memory.

“You look like hell,” he said, flopping onto the chair across from me. “That bad, huh?”

I exhaled through my nose. “Didn’t sleep.”

His gaze flicked to me over the rim of his mug. “Girl trouble?”

I huffed a quiet laugh. “Trouble”. Yeah. That was one way to put it.

“It’s nothing.”

His brows lifted. “That so?”

I didn’t answer.

Because “nothing” shouldn’t have felt like this.

“Nothing" shouldn’t have kept me awake all night.

“Nothing” shouldn’t have made my chest feel tight just thinking about her.

“You ever think that maybe you don’t have to keep running?” my uncle asked, leaning back in his chair.

I clenched my jaw.

“I’m not running.”

He snorted. “Sure you aren’t. That’s why you left the Air Force early, right? That’s why you move from place to place, never staying longer than you have to? You’re always looking for the next thing, kid. What happens when you run out of next things?”

I didn’t answer.

Because I didn’t know.

“You’re gonna wake up one day and realize you let something good slip through your fingers because you were too damn afraid to stay in one place,”he continued. “Maybe stop trying to prove something to ghosts that don’t give a shit about you.”

That one hit.

My fingers curled around my coffee mug, my grip tightening. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I don’t?” His gaze didn’t waver. “You ever wonder why I never left this place? Never took off looking for something better? ‘Cause I did that once. And by the time I figured out what I really wanted, it was too late.”

He stood, stretching, and patted my shoulder once before heading back toward the kitchen.

“Go for a run, kid,” he called over his shoulder. “Maybe it’ll clear your head.”

I sat there for another long moment before pushing up from the table.

A run.

Yeah.

I needed a distraction.

Something to get her out of my system.

---

I barely realized where my feet had taken me until I stopped, chest rising and falling, the taste of salt air coating my tongue.

Her marina.

“Fuck”.

I told myself it was coincidence. Just a familiar route. Just muscle memory.

But I knew better.

I was checking on her.

My hands curled into fists as I scanned the docks, my pulse kicking hard when I spotted her.

She was stretched out on her deck, wearing nothing but a bikini and a massive floppy hat, the sunlight catching the curves of her body in a way that made my stomach tighten. Her skin was golden, smooth, glowing like she belonged under the sun.

Like she was the sun.

And I was standing in the shadows, looking at something I knew I had no business wanting.

She wasn’t alone.

Lara was with her, sipping something out of a bright pink cup, talking animatedly while the two of them laughed.

I should’ve walked away.

I should’ve turned around.

But then I saw him.

A man leaning against a post a few slips down, his eyes locked on her.

He wasn’t watching her—he was leering.

Tracking the slow, lazy way she stretched, the way she laughed, the way she had no idea someone like him was looking at her like that.

My blood ran hot.

I didn’t think.

Didn’t hesitate.

I moved.

By the time I reached him, I was calm. Collected. I wasn’t about to make a scene, wasn’t about to tip her off that I was here.

I just stepped up beside him, close enough that he finally registered I was there.

His gaze flicked to me, confused at first, and then cautious when he got a good look.

I didn’t smile.

Didn’t blink.

Just stood there, tall, solid, unmoving.

“She’s not for you.”

He shifted slightly, letting out a nervous laugh, but I saw it—the way his fingers twitched, the way his throat bobbed when he swallowed.

I took a step closer, dropping my voice just enough that only he could hear.

“If I ever see you looking at her like that again, I’ll make sure you don’t look at anything ever again.”

I held his gaze.

Made sure he felt the weight of my words.

He muttered something—“Jesus, man, whatever”—before turning and disappearing down the dock.

I exhaled slowly, unclenching my fists.

Then, without sparing her another glance, I walked away.

She never saw me.

Never knew I had been there.

Never knew I had protected her without her even realizing it.

And that was the way it had to be.

Because I wasn’t meant to have her.

I just wasn’t ready to let her go.

Not yet.

Maybe not ever.