Maybe it’s the Lana Del Rey song on the radio about being young and in love.

Maybe it’s the guy sitting next to me.

I roll my head, so I’m looking at Gray instead of the scenery. The wind is tugging at his hair too; there’s just less to grasp at. Tendons tense in his forearm as he turns the steering wheel of his Jeep. Rays of sunlight filter down from the blue sky, framing his profile.

He glances over and catches me staring at him. “What?”

I shake my head, hoping my cheeks were already flushed from the heat. “Nothing.”

A brief, disbelieving hum is barely audible over the stereo. “I’m supposed to swing by the base. Do you mind if we stop before I drop you off?”

Excitement courses through me. “No, of course not. I’m just along for the ride.”

Gray laughs under his breath as he merges onto the highway.

It takes ten minutes to reach the joint base. Traffic thickens around the airport, but Gray’s Jeep is the only car that approaches the iron gate. I crane my neck to look past the fencing as Gray scans his badge and waves at the gate attendant.

“Wow,” I say when we start to crawl ahead. “This place is massive.”

The front gate gave no indication of the size and scale of the base. We pass a playground, a coffee shop, rows of townhouses, a chapel, tennis courts, basketball courts, a pool, and a barbershop. It’s like a miniature city.

“Yeah. It’s over three thousand acres.”

“I had no idea.” I feel like I should have, having grown up here. “How many members of the military work out of here?”

Gray flicks on his blinker and turns. “Eh, active? Probably at least ten thousand. A lot more if you count reserves and contractors. Not to mention retirees. The Naval Weapons Station holds a lot of manpower and so does the Coast Guard sector.”

I bite back another Wow.

A massive warehouse-looking building appears on the right. Gray parks beside it.

“I’ve got to run inside for a minute. Feel free to look around. Anyone says anything to you, just tell them my name. Okay?”

“Okay.”

I watch him stride toward the building in his white T-shirt and faded jeans, and then I open the Jeep door and climb out. Now that we’ve stopped moving, there’s no breeze to counteract the temperature. Heat radiates off the asphalt, shimmering in the still air. I wander over to the shaded sidewalk, watching as a group of men jog by in camo pants and light-green T-shirts. Once they pass, I turn to the left and walk toward the building Gray entered. When I reach the front, I realize it’s a hangar. At least ten aircraft fill the expansive space. They all look brand-new with gleaming paint and clean lines.