The father and son held hands, the son’s head falling to his dad’s shoulder as we flew back to the coast guard station. Ten minutes. That was all that stood between that family and the ocean. Ten minutes and Jackson’s crew.

Ten minutes that Jackson’s parents hadn’t had.

How many lives had he saved? How many kids still had their parents because of Jackson? Or Garrett? Or Sawyer?

Had this been scary as hell? Yes.

But it was humbling.

“You okay there, Kitty?” Jackson asked.

“I’m great.” I really was.

“This is going to get a little complicated, so when we land, just stick with Garrett. I have to do a post-flight. Garrett, take her to the bunk room, would you?”

“You got it,” Garrett answered.

Landing was a blur, and I did as Jackson asked and waited with Garrett. First, I stayed right behind him in the hopes that no one would notice I was there as they off-loaded our evacuees. Lucky for us, we weren’t the center of attention.

An hour after we landed, I sat on the farthest twin bed from the door inside the bunk room, staring up at the clock. My borrowed flight suit, boots, and helmet lay on the bed next to me, ready to be returned to their owners. “Is it supposed to take this long?” I asked Garrett.

“Trust me, it’s fine. We’d have heard about it by now if we’d gotten caught.” He leaned against the door, occasionally looking through the small glass window to the hallway.

“A quick, easy patrol, Morgan.” My voice dropped into a Jackson impression.

Garrett laughed. “That was his plan, trust me.” A knock sounded at the door, and he looked through the glass. “About time,” he said as he opened the door.

Jackson walked in, his flight suit unzipped just enough to reveal the T-shirt underneath. “Thanks, man.”

“No problem.” Garrett gave me a two-fingered salute and walked out, closing the door behind him.

Jackson locked the door, peered through the window, and then came toward me with an apologetic smile. “So that turned out a little more adventurous than I’d hoped.” He sat down next to me, close enough that our thighs touched.

“You think?” I tilted my head.

He grimaced. “I mean, it could have been worse.”

“You could have gotten caught.”

“That, too.” He took my hand and laced our fingers. “I’m really sorry. I never meant for you to get caught up in that.”

God, those eyes. They made me want to swim in them—swim in him.

“I’m okay,” I assured him.