Page 41 of What Remains

Then he closed the door with a soft, careful finality.

Chapter 9

Silent Past

The silence inside Beast was thick, not tense exactly, but defenetly heavy.

Seth kept his eyes on the road, hands steady on the wheel, as the world outside rolled like the trailer for a disaster movie. Behind him, Layla hummed quietly, tapping her boots together to a rhythm only she understood.

Beside him, Josie sat stiffly upright, fingers knotted on her knees. She tried once, then twice, to swallow quietly before finally clearing her throat.

"Seth... can I ask you something?"

He didn't look over, but he blinked. "Sure."

She hesitated, choosing her words like someone navigating a minefield. "What branch were you in?"

He shot a look her way. "That obvious, huh?”

A small, tired smile touched Josie's mouth, she scooped under her shirt and pulled out her dog tags. "Air Force, six years. Soldiers always recognize other soldiers.”

"Marines," he said at last. "Ten years. Too many deployments. Afghanistan, mostly."

Josie nodded, absorbing rather than reacting. "That tracks."

He snorted. "That tracks?"

She shrugged lightly. "You move like someone trained. Not just someone who wore a uniform. You assess every angle, every sound. And—" her eyes softened, "—you carry grief like it belongs to you and that you've stopped noticing the weight."

That landed harder in his chest than he expected.

He cleared his throat, staring out at the broken landscape. "Yeah, well, some things you just learn to carry."

Josie didn't pry. She didn't offer condolences or empty platitudes. She simply sat with it, her quiet presence a silent acknowledgment that some things need no words.

After a long moment, she spoke again, her voice quieter. "I lost people too. Overseas and back home. It never stops hurting. It doesn't matter how strong you are."

Seth's grip tightened on the wheel. "Yeah."

"And yesterday," she went on gently, "you didn't hesitate. You protected me and Layla like instinct took over before thought could. That wasn't just a soldier. That was..." She swallowed. "A good man."

He shook his head sharply. "I did what needed doing."

"Yes." She looked at him fully now. "But a lot of people wouldn't have."

Seth didn't know what to do with any of it. It made his chest ache.

She seemed to sense it. She eased back in her seat, turning her gaze toward the passing world.

"You don't have to tell me anything," she said. "But if you ever want to... I'll listen."

Why the hell had he said that?

The words sat in his brain, heavy and stupid. Marines: Ten years. He hadn't meant to offer it; he hadn't meant to open the door to anything about himself. Josie had just... asked. Softly, carefully, like someone genuinely curious instead of nosy.

Still stupid. He didn't owe her anything.

Seth stared out the window at the broken world passing by—rusted cars, collapsed fences, weeds punching through pavement—anything to avoid looking at the woman beside him. He tightened his grip on the map until his knuckles whitened.