Page 106 of The SEAL and the Sheriff

He set his cup down.

Sarah smiled. “Morning.”

He crossed the room and kissed her. One hand found her jaw, the other sliding into her damp hair. She tasted of mint this morning, and the rest of him woke up fast.

Sarah smiled against his mouth, her hand sliding lower. “Well, good morning.”

“Coffee,” he said.

She kissed him back. “Probably wise. We have Cord to deal with today.”

He stayed there for another reluctant second, his mouth close to hers. With a sigh, he handed her the cup, their fingers brushing.

They sat against the headboard with their coffee, Sarah’s bare knee resting against his thigh beneath the sheet. Outside, snow had erased the edges of Aurora Cove.

Sarah took a sip and closed her eyes. “You remembered the sugar.”

“Yes.”

“Mm.” She looked at him over the rim of the cup. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Your breathing.”

His eyes snapped to hers.

“Sometimes it sounds like it’s harder than it should be.”

“That obvious?”

One shoulder lifted in a tiny shrug. “I’m a details girl.”

He thought he’d hidden it. Sarah had heard it regardless.

Fuck.

“That’s why I’m not in the Teams anymore,” he said at last.

Sarah waited.

Hudson stared into his coffee. “The operation where we lost Ben Taggart.” He exhaled a slow breath. “The charges went off during extraction. The blast wave collapsed part of the channel wall. I went under with half a ton of rock and silt.”

For an instant, the words dragged him back. The pressure. The absolute dark. Silt packed behind his teeth. His lungs screaming for air when there was none. And then the moment his body stopped listening to him and tried to breathe anyway.

He sipped his coffee, needing something to do.

“I aspirated enough water to do permanent damage. It left me with scarring on my lungs. Reduced capacity. Cold sensitivity.” He rubbed his knuckles against his chest. The clinical language came easily. He’d had years to learn that part. “Most days you’d never know. But if I push too hard or the temperature changes too fast, they remind me.”

Sarah was very still.

“That’s what ended it. It wasn’t the firefight or Cord.” His throat worked around a sandy swallow. “It was my lungs. Medical discharge.”

“And you’ve been dealing with that ever since?”

“Yeah.”

Her expression softened. She set her cup on the nightstand. Then she took his from his hands and placed it beside hers.