Page 83 of Viking

“Then be better,” Dalton counters.

I don’t respond. Instead I listen to the engines drone on. A cruel soundtrack to the miles stretching between me and the heart I’m leaving behind.

Hampton, Virginia

June 22, 2024

4:06 p.m.

Lila

The knock at the door comes. I’m curled up on the couch. My chest feels hollow, like I’ve been scraped clean, and my eyes burn from crying. I force myself to stand, each movement sluggish and heavy, and make my way to the door.

When I open it, Ivy and Alinna are there, their faces full of concern.

Ivy’s wearing a flowy white tank top tucked into light-wash wide-leg jeans and tan leather sandals, her long blonde hair pulled into a loose braid over her shoulder. Alinna’s dressed in a simple black sleeveless jumpsuit with strappy sandals, her glossy dark hair is curled in loose waves and clipped back. They both look effortlessly put together. A stark contrast to Logan’s oversized demo team crewneck that I borrowed from him when he first deployed and the soft leggings I dug out of my drawer after I forced myself into the shower.

The warm water had done little to wash away last night. To combat the surge of memories of Logan in there with me. Of his hands sliding over my body, the way his calloused fingers had traced every inch of me with a devastating mix of reverence and hunger. Even now, the ghost of his touch lingers—his rough grip on my hip, the press of his chest against my back, the way his breath had been hot against my neck right before he—

I shake my head, forcing the thoughts away.

But it’s useless. The imprint of him is everywhere. In the way my body still hums with the aftermath. In the way the scent of him lingers in the air. I suck in a breath, trying to focus on the present, on my friends, but the ache of his absence threatens to take me out.

I step out of the way as Ivy walks into my house, setting the tray of iced lattes on the end table and then pulling me into a hug. “Oh, Lila,” she says softly, her gaze scanning my face. “You look like you’ve been crying.”

Ivy’s too nice to say what she really means. I look like shit.

“No doubt she has been,” Alinna says matter-of-factly, dropping a bag of pastries next to the coffees. “When did Logan leave?” I’m thankful her teaching assignment got postponed and that she’s not halfway across the world right now.

“This morning,” I whisper, collapsing back onto the couch and tugging the blanket tighter around me.

Ivy hands me a latte. “Drink this.”

I take a sip, the sweet and salty caramel syrup bringing me to life.

“What happened?” Alinna asks, settling into the cushions with her coffee. Her bright blue eyes study me, full of concern. “You sounded wrecked on the phone.”

I wrap my fingers around the cool plastic cup, condensation chilling my skin. “He’s gone,” I murmur. My voice cracks as I stare into the latte, like it holds all the answers I need. “And I think I broke him even more by letting him leave like I did.”

Ivy shifts to sit closer to me. “Lila, what happened? Start from the beginning.”

So I do.

I tell them about the memorial and our night together, letting the words spill out until my chest feels empty. The silence between each confession stretches tight, drenched in disbelief, weighted by a past I never imagined would claw its way back up.

I take a breath, watching Ivy and Alinna as their faces slowly pale, their expressions shifting from shock to sorrow.

“He called Lincoln by his call sign,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “Reaper. That’s how I knew. I don’t think he would have told me otherwise. At least, not when he did. They were each other’s wingmen.” My throat tightens. “Logan was there when Lincoln died.”

Ivy’s eyebrows knit together like she’s trying to convince herself she heard me wrong. “Wait. What?”

Alinna’s gaze flicks between me and Ivy as she pieces everything together. Then, wordlessly, reaches forward and takes the coffee from my too-tight grasp.

“Yeah,” I murmur, my hands twisting together in my lap. “And he feels…responsible. He thinks if he’d done something differently, maybe Lincoln would still be here.”

Ivy swipes at her eyes quickly. The emotion is too much and I can’t help but wonder if this is familiar territory for her.

But it’s Alinna who speaks. “Why do you think he didn’t tell you when you told him about Lincoln? He already knew everything you were saying to him then, so why—” She cuts herself off, shaking her head.