Crossed anchors of the Coast Guard on the other. A puckered bullet wound scarred his shoulder. A jagged line cut below his ribs. The faded ghosts of violence mapped across his skin, his past written in pain.
Heat flared low and sudden—completely at odds with the cold still clinging to her. This was the worst possible moment to feel this way.
Wyatt’s gaze met hers in the dark reflection of a security monitor. For a beat, he didn’t look away. Something flickered behind his eyes—there and gone before she could name it.
Then his shoulders tensed. He pulled the shirt over his head, and the moment sealed itself away as efficiently as everything else he did.
“We should warm up internally.” He zipped up the orange coveralls. “Hot drink. If you’ve got one.”
Right. Coffee. Reality.
“Sure.” She moved past him toward the kitchenette, deliberately increasing the distance between them. Her heart was misbehaving, thudding too hard against her ribs, but she forced her focus back to where it belonged.
Later—if there even was a later—she could unpack what the moment meant.
For now, there was work to do.
The setup was basic. An aging coffee maker, an electric kettle, shelves stocked with emergency rations that had likely outlived their intended shelf life.
She could do this. Make coffee. Execute a simple sequence of steps.
The instant coffee was terrible—bitter and metallic, an insult to real beans—but it was hot, and right now that was all that mattered. She filled two chipped mugs and crossed the room, handing one to Wyatt without ceremony.
“Careful,” she said. “It’s lethal.”
He wrapped his hands around it with a nod of thanks, his eyes trained on the security feed. His M4 leaned against the console within easy reach.
His hands weren’t quite steady on the mug. She almost missed it—would have, if she hadn’t spent the last few hours learning to read him. He caught her looking, and the tremor disappeared, his grip firming like it had never happened as he checked the monitors again.
“I’m sorry.”
He looked right at her, a frown on his face.
She plowed on before she chickened out. “For not trusting you. Earlier. In the armory.” The words came out rushed. She needed to say them before she lost her nerve. “I thought you might be?—”
“One of them.” He didn’t sound offended. “I know.”
“You said you’re Coast Guard, but you moved like?—”
“Someone who wasn’t.” He sipped his coffee, grimaced at the taste. “You were smart not to trust me on my word alone.”
“Still. You’ve saved my life multiple times tonight and I?—”
“Made the right call.” His gaze held hers. “Trust should be earned, not given. Especially after the people you trusted most put guns in your face.”
She winced. “And for... biting you.”
He examined his hand where her teeth had broken skin. “I’ve had worse.” A beat. “Not usually from engineers.”
Her cheeks heated. “Still. That was?—”
“Effective.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “Surprised the hell out of me.”
Something in her chest loosened at that. He understood.
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
“For what?”
