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“Mind if I sit here?”

They both looked up at one of the vets holding a tray.

“Not at all. Foster, right?” Wyatt was slowly learning all their names.

“Yeah.” He sat across from them and cracked open a soda.

The guy was completely harmless, but Whitley scraped her chair an inch closer to Wyatt, a reaction he’d also noticed whenever someone new came around. She was still wary of people, especially if they were military.

Foster glanced between them. “You two live here now?”

“Something like that.” Wyatt didn’t elaborate further. Whitley’s shoulder pressed lightly against his arm.

“You came from the training facility,” Foster said.

The bite of food he took stuck in his throat, and he swallowed hard to clear it. Though he’d come to terms with being out of the program for the time being, it still sucked that everyone knew it.

“That’s right. I’m joining the next class.”

Foster nodded. “Sounds like you made the right call to leave.” His gaze flicked to Whitley.

Being kicked from the program for a bad attitude or being unable to complete the course work sounded very different from making the right call. For the first time, instead of a ripple of irritation, Wyatt felt…accepted.

As they shared their meal, Foster launched into a story about a training exercise gone sideways, and Wyatt half listened while keeping most of his attention on the warmth of Whitley beside him.

It was such a small thing, her leaning into him. It shouldn’t mean as much as it did.

Over the past couple weeks, he’d been introduced to a dozen guys he’d never really known before he started staying at the lodge. Men from every branch of the military, with different ranks and years of service behind them.

Somewhere along the way, listening to their stories had stopped making him feel like he was standing outside an exclusive club he’d never be allowed to join. For the first time, he was starting to feel like one of them.

And no matter who joined them or how many unfamiliar faces filled the room, Whitley always found her way a little closer to him.

It warmed him that she thought of him as safe. But part of him hated what had taught her to seek that safety in the first place. Her ex had conditioned her to treat every unfamiliar face as a potential threat until proven otherwise.

Including his, once upon a time.

By the time they finished eating, Foster had moved on to another story and Whitley was still tucked close to Wyatt’s side. It was becoming their routine without either of them acknowledging it. Meals together. Evenings on the deck. Open bedroom doors across the hall from each other.

The next morning was no different.

Wyatt woke, showered and opened his door to find hers already open across the hall. That had become another unspoken agreement between them somewhere along the way.

He grabbed a clean flannel shirt from the small closet and drew it on. He was halfway through buttoning it when her voice carried across the hall.

“You going to help at the security office or the training facility today?”

His fingers paused over the buttons.

Just the sound of her voice pushed his mind places it had no business going this early in the morning.

Taking off his shirt.

Hers too.

Laying her on one of their beds and claiming her lips.

“Wyatt?”