Of course it is.
Of course he doesn’t let it go.
“Clay—”
“No,” he cuts in. “You don’t get to tell me to stay down and then walk away from why it matters.”
“I’m not walking away—”
“Then say it.”
The words hit like a challenge.
Like a demand.
Like he’s standing right in front of something he doesn’t fully understand—but refuses to ignore.
My heart pounds.
Hard.
Too fast.
Because I know exactly what he wants me to say.
And I’m not ready.
Not here.
Not like this.
“You’re not ready to go back,” I say instead, forcing the conversation back where it’s safer. “That’s the only thing that matters right now.”
His expression hardens.
Walls slamming back into place.
“Yeah,” he says. “That’s what I thought.”
Regret hits instantly.
Sharp.
But I don’t take it back.
Can’t.
Because if I do—
This becomes something else entirely.
“Command already cleared me for light movement,” he adds.
“That’s not a full mission.”
“It’s a start.”
“It’s a mistake.”
