“Just keep doing what you’re doing. Show up, but don’t force her hand. Morgan’s the long game.”

“No, Morgan’s the endgame.”

Sam chuckled, dug through her bag, and pulled out a clear package with…

“Are those knee pads?” What the hell?

She pushed them into my chest. “I was told by the guys that if you were willing to fight, you’d need these. It’s basically your invitation to the boys’ club. We’ll back you up as much as we can.” She winced as I took the pads. “And sorry about the door last week. I owe Morgan, and she called it in. Honestly, I’m only here because I remember those months without Grayson, and it would have been a lot easier if we’d just communicated.”

I raised my eyebrows.

“I thought he was in love with his ex-comatose ex-girlfriend. Long story.”

“Apparently.”

“Be safe, Jax. She might have thrown you out, but all of that girl’s happiness is wrapped up in you making it home. No matter how safe you think you’re being—be safer. You understand?”

“I understand.”

She hugged me and walked out the front door. “Oh, and Morgan has an appointment tomorrow to have some sea glass set in a bracelet.”

I blinked. “Okay?”

“It’s at Christina’s at eleven thirty a.m., which to my understanding is five hours before you’re due to show at the hangar for deployment.”

I grinned. “Thank you, Sam.”

“Don’t fuck this up, Jax.”

I wasn’t going to.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Five

Morgan

These months are going to fly by. I promise. And then it’s you and me.

“It would look good in platinum,” Christina mused, laying out the small pieces of sea glass on her lightboard as we stood in the workroom at the back of her shop.

“Or gold?” I suggested, fingering the pendant around my neck. Jax and I might be done, but it felt wrong to take it off.

“It would definitely match your necklace,” she said with a nod. “You know, I just wanted to say that I’m really sorry Jax has to go.”

I stilled.

“Peter is so angry that they won’t let him wait for an upslip there. He knows…what this is costing you two, and we’re both very sorry.” She squeezed my hand.

Trying—and failing—to neatly box the pain of losing Jax, I brought my eyes to hers. “It’s not your fault.”

“You two would still be together if Peter hadn’t slipped on that deck.” She bit her lower lip.

“Christina, don’t. Whether it was this…trip or the next, it was bound to happen. Getting out now just makes it hurt less than later.” My smile was shaky and fake as hell, but she didn’t call me on it.