Page 182 of Reeves

I nod once.

“I know. I just know it's time.”

I push back from the chair and stand, the decision settling into place as I do. It's not an easy one, but I know being closer to Benjy, to watch him grow, is where I belong. Even if it's going to be as hard as hell being there and knowing I can't be with her.

“All right, Stone. I’ll keep your file open. You’ve got time to think on it.”

“I don’t need it.”

She studies me for a second, like she’s waiting for me to walk that back, then nods once.

“All right.”

“Thank you, Commander.”

I push back from the chair and stand, sliding it back into place out of habit before turning toward the door. My hand rests on the handle for a second, not because I’m hesitating, but because I’m aware of what I’m walking out with.

I open the door and step outside into the heat.

It hits immediately, dry and constant, settling across my shoulders and the back of my neck. The sound of the camp carries across the gravel—engines idling, boots moving, voices calling out to each other. It’s familiar in a way that used to steady me. Everything in its place. Everything moving the way it’s supposed to.

I stand there for a second, letting it settle in, taking in the same layout, the same rhythm, knowing exactly where I’d be in an hour, in a week.

My phone is already in my hand by the time I start walking. I move off to the side of the path, out of the way of a couple of guys hauling gear between trucks, and pull up Ridge’s number.

He picks up on the second ring.

“Yeah.”

“Hey, fucker. You're up early and cheery, I hear.”

There’s a short pause on the line. “Just calling to insult me?”

“Usually. It's been a month since I saw your ugly mug, and I was missing you.”

"Aww. Little bro. What time is it there?"

"Dinner time. You're just starting your day, huh?"

"Something like that."

I shift my weight, dragging my hand across the back of my neck, feeling the heat settle in again.

“I’m finishing this tour at the end of August.”

“So, a little under a month. Will you be back in Virginia after that, or another tour in the Middle East?”

“I'll have to go back to Virginia and close things up. My obligation ends in November.”

He doesn’t say anything to that, just waits for me to spell it out.

“I’m not re-upping,” I say. “After that, I’m done.”

“You serious?”

“Yeah.”

I watch a truck roll past the edge of the compound, dust kicking up behind it, the same motion I’ve watched a hundred times without thinking about it.