Page 102 of Viking

And so is Lila.

I’ve spent too long convincing myself I wasn’t worthy of her. That what happened to Ryan, to Reaper, was too big—this wall between us I could never climb. But maybe I’ve had it backward all this time. Maybe what happened was supposed to wake me up, not shut me down.

I don’t want to keep surviving and calling it living.

She’s the only place I’ve ever felt like more than just a pilot. More than call signs and mission briefs and ghosts in my head.

With her, I’m just…me. And for the first time since our paths crossed, I’m starting to believe that might be enough.

It’s time to stop hiding behind guilt and grief.

Time to stop making excuses.

Time to go after what I want.

It’s time to find her.

And see if she’ll let me stay.

Hampton, Virginia

October 10, 2024

10:22 a.m.

Lila

My office feels smaller today, suffocating almost. The sun blazes through the high window, casting harsh shadows across my desk as I type out an email sharing the details of an upcoming air show. One Alpha will be flying since they’re supposed to be back any day now. My head throbs—too much coffee, too little sleep. I rake my hands through my hair, loosening it from the braided crown I wove it into this morning. Work is the only thing that keeps me moving these days, the only thing that dulls the ache in my chest.

I haven’t thought about him today. Not yet, at least. That’s a win, right?

I take my glasses off my face, tossing them onto my antique writing desk. I’m thankful for the minimal makeup I’m wearing as I rub my tired, scratchy eyes.

A soft knock at the door pulls my attention, and I glance up, sliding my glasses back into place.

Then I see him.

Logan.

My heart slams against my ribs. He stands in the doorway, framed by the morning light, his flight suit clinging to his broad frame, his gray-blue eyes burning into mine with a look that nearly undoes me. There’s light in his eyes again. Quiet strength in his posture that wasn’t there when he left.

But that doesn’t change the fact that he left.

I grip the edge of my desk, the cool wood grounding me against the wave of emotions threatening to pull me under. “What are you doing here?” Maybe a dumb question since he does work here.

His throat works as he swallows. “I had to see you.”

I push my chair back and stand, my pulse hammering. “And you thought ambushing me where we both work was the time to do that?”

“I went to your house first,” he admits, closing the door behind him. “You weren’t there.”

Of course I wasn’t there, it’s not even 10:30 on a Thursday morning. I cross my arms, needing the barrier between us. “You don’t get to do this, Logan. You don’t get to show up and act like nothing happened.”

His jaw tightens, but his voice is quiet when he speaks. “I know.”

The air between us feels thick with everything I don’t have the strength to say. My pulse thrums with too many conflicting emotions. I fight the urge to step outside, to let the crisp autumn air cool the fire burning beneath my skin.

Three months of silence.