Page 68 of My All American Girl

I sighed. “I have them all. I gave them to the officers that broke up the fight.”

“Are they from our base?”

“No.” I shook my head.

“Bummer,” he muttered. “I would love to have a chance to show them how real men behave.”

His fists were clenched and his jaw was rigid. There was a fierce fire in his eyes but also a deep compassion. I didn’t realize until that moment how much Dean cared. It wasn’t just about what had happened tonight. It was about me. I felt a lump forming in my throat as I met his gaze.

“They weren’t good guys,” I whispered, trying to keep my voice steady.

“You don’t say,” he muttered sarcastically.

“Dean,” I started, then paused. I took another sip of water, trying to find the words. “I wanted to help Hoffman so badly. But I didn’t realize⁠—”

“That you could get hurt too,” he finished the sentence for me, his voice soft but steady.

“Yes,” I admitted, feeling a shiver run down my spine at the memory. “I was so focused on helping him, I didn’t consider the ramifications. I only saw a person in distress. And I can usually handle myself. But I was drained. Rolley was in rough shape as well. I don’t know how those assholes were still standing after the week we had.”

Dean was silent for a moment, studying me intently. “That’s not a bad thing,” he said finally. “But you need to remember that you’re valuable too. You can’t help others if you’re injured or worse. That’s part of your training.”

“I know.” I sighed, running a hand through my messy hair.

“There’s bravery and then there’s recklessness,” he continued, his voice never wavering. “And knowing the difference between the two can be a matter of life and death. You have to take care of yourself too, you know.”

I nodded, absorbing his words as he continued. “It’s a tough thing, being strong enough to step in when you see injustice, but also strong enough to know when you’re outmanned and need to call for backup. Doing the latter doesn’t make you any less brave, it just shows that you are smart and strategic.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said.

“Did you at least mess one of them up?” Dean asked.

I managed a small smile. “Broke a couple fingers, kicked some balls, and possibly broke a nose,” I replied.

Dean chuckled softly. “That’s my girl.”

Then, to my surprise, Dean leaned in and kissed me. It was soft and gentle, a stark contrast to the violence I had just endured. It was perhaps the worst fight I had ever been in, but also the first where I had stood my ground for moral reasons, not just because someone had insulted me.

I pulled back slightly, my eyes wide with surprise. “What was that for?” I whispered.

Dean met my gaze, his expression serious. “Your phone call scared the hell out of me,” he admitted quietly. “I was tempted to borrow one of the jets and fly myself here. Do you know how hard it was to sit on a plane and not get to be the one in the cockpit?”

I leaned in and kissed him again, more passionately this time. My hands found his face, holding him close as the tension and adrenaline of the night melted away.

Dean kissed me back, his hands sliding around my waist, pulling me closer. For a moment, we were lost in each other. Everything that happened over the last week faded away. It was just him.

When we finally pulled apart, I rested my forehead against his, breathing heavily. “Thank you,” I murmured.

Dean brushed a strand of hair away from my face, his thumb tracing my cheek. “Anytime, Sarah. I’m here for you.”

“I know,” I said with a soft smile. I felt safe with Dean, cared for in a way I hadn’t realized I needed.

“Why don’t you take a shower? The pizza will be here soon. We’ll eat and then you need to get some sleep.”

I nodded, feeling the exhaustion weighing me down. “Okay,” I agreed.

Dean stood up, offering me his hand. “Come on.”

He led me to the bathroom. I stripped and stepped under the hot spray.