He shook his head. “No. That’s why she wrote the letter. In case something happened to her. She wanted me to know how much she wants our baby, how elated she was to find out she was pregnant, even though it was an accident.”

“Go to her, man.” Chris thought about his soon-to-be ex-wife and the mistakes he’d made in the months following the op that shattered their team. His situation was nothing like Xavier’s. Hell, his marriage had probably never been solid for reasons that could be laid at both their feet. But Xavier could have something real come out of this nightmare.

“Go to her,” he repeated. “And don’t forget, tomorrow isn’t guaranteed, so if you love her, don’t fuck around with euphemisms. Tell her how you feel. What you want.”

“We’re in the middle of an op—”

“That never should have been an op in the first place. Hell, you aren’t active duty with the teams anymore. I will see you at six hundred hours and not a moment before.”

Chapter Thirty

Xavier went to the kitchen before heading upstairs. It was clear the mercs had raided the food supplies his training team had stored in the restaurant’s large walk-in fridge and freezer, but they hadn’t eaten everything. He grabbed a precooked baked potato stuffed with broccoli and chopped it up, then tossed it into a frying pan and heated it on the gas stove.

If the power were on, he’d microwave it, but this would do for now. They’d shut off the generators because they didn’t want the noise to provide cover for the enemy.

He grabbed a cooked chicken breast and, after shredding it, added it to the pan. He knew Audrey could use the protein, and it would taste better than the canned stuff she’d been eating for the last twenty-four hours.

Once everything was heated through, he tossed on a handful of shredded cheese and a dollop of sour cream, remembering that was how Audrey had eaten her baked potato in November.

Sheesh. He’d remembered everything about her, right down to how she’d topped her side dish.

The plate was piled high with food—more than enough for two people—when he headed up the back stairs to find Audrey. He paused on the third-floor landing, for a moment wondering which door she’d be behind, then he smiled.

He knew exactly where she’d be.

He paused outside the room, then knocked in the pattern he’d taught her the first night, then pushed the door open.

The room was dark, lit only by a camping lantern on the nightstand that she’d covered with a towel to keep the light from reaching the windows. He spotted her in the gray light, fully clothed and sprawled on the bed, her backpack beside her.