A few guys chuckled at that, including Coach Cartwright.

“I would never do anything to hurt this team. You guys are all awesome, you’re great athletes, damn good guys. So if my past makes problems, I’ll step aside and we can bring up someone else to take my spot. The last thing I want is to be an issue for anyone I care about.”

“We love you, man,” one of the guys said from the back, causing them all to laugh.

“Yeah, yeah.” Greg smirked and shook his head. “Sappy time is over. I just wanted to get that out of the way. I know we’re coming up on some tough shit with whoever is bothering us, targeting our team. I needed you to know that despite the stupid mistakes from when I was a kid, I would do anything to stop the hurt from happening.”

There was silence, and then several heads turned to the right. Greg followed their eye line and found Reagan standing off to the side, leaning against a wall. How had he totally missed her coming in?

Ah, she wasn’t wearing heels, so no clacking across the floor. Wait . . . she wasn’t wearing heels. That had to mean something.

“Uh . . . let’s get to work,” Greg ended with, pretending to shake pom-poms for a little comedic relief. The guys laughed, then stood and started jogging their laps. Greg caught Coach Ace’s eye, who motioned for him to go talk to Reagan. He waved and headed over. “Hey. I looked all over for you during break.”

She nodded. “I heard my voice mails.”

“So . . .” He looked down pointedly at the flats she wore. “What’s going on?”

“Wasn’t in the mood for heels. Grabbed my emergency pair of flats from the trunk.”

The thought made him want to smile. Only his Reagan would consider wearing flats to constitute an emergency situation. “Can we talk after practice? Maybe meet up and grab something at the Exchange food court and—”

“I can’t.” Her eyes drifted closed, and her crossed arms said Don’t touch. Despite that, he wanted to grab her and pull her in. “I lost my security clearance. No tooling around base for me anymore.”

“No,” he breathed. “We can fix this. Maybe if we—”

“You were great.” She smiled, though he saw her lips tremble just a little. “Really. I hope you just did that for you, though.”

He hadn’t. But now that she said it, he admitted it felt good to have the air fully cleared. “Not initially. I need you to stay.”

“I needed to do my job. I chose not to. So I have to start looking for something else.” She sighed and rubbed one temple. God, why did they have to be in the gym right now? He needed to hold her. “I have to pack.”

“What? No.” Fuck being at the gym. He leaned closer, bracing one hand on the wall beside her head. She was so short, it felt, without her heels, even though she was still only a few inches shorter than him. Looking down to converse with her felt wrong. Felt like defeat on her end. “Why would you need to pack?”

“Because I don’t have a job. I can’t afford my apartment without a job. I have to immediately start hunting, and let me tell you,” she added with a huff of unamused laughter, “with only one piece of job experience under my belt—which I was fired from—I’m not optimistic.”

He watched her eyes water, watched her blink the tears back, and felt like bashing his fist through a wall. “Don’t give up. You got fired because of me. Let me fix it.”

“That’s not how this works.” Her ponytail swished around her shoulders as she shook her head. “I just have to . . .” She raised her hands, let them fall to her sides, bouncing lightly off the wall at her back. “Start fresh, or something. Since I don’t know where that will be, I need to be ready to go.”

“Higgs!” Coach Ace boomed behind him. “This isn’t Snuggle Hour, it’s practice. Get a move on!”

He saw her ready to bolt. Saw she was done. And hated—so much hated—that he’d been a part of that. “We’re not done.” He meant it in more ways than one, and by the way her eyes widened, he knew she caught his double meaning.

*   *   *

THIS is it?

Reagan stared at the contents in the box she’d packed, and wanted to cry. She’d spent months here, and had about one box of things—minus her furniture, shoes and clothes, of course—to show for it. She hadn’t been sightseeing. She hadn’t tried local restaurants. Hell, the beach was ten minutes away and she hadn’t put one toe in the sand.

Because she’d been working. Her job, this job she’d considered the most important thing, had consumed her.

No, not true.

Gregory Higgs. He’d broken her shell, made her look at what she’d thought her life would be like. Made her want to consider something besides making it on her own. She didn’t want to be on her own anymore. She wanted Greg with her.

The corner of something caught her eye. She found a book under her couch she’d forgotten and placed it in the still-not-full box.

At the knock on her door, she praised God she wouldn’t have to stare at the pathetic contents of her independent adult life another minute. Marianne had promised to bring by a few boxes from deliveries to her training room. Which beat the hell out of buying the boxes out of her now finite funds. She’d need about five just for her shoes alone.

“Thank you, God,” she said, unlocking the last latch and swinging the door open. “I so needed . . . Greg.” She froze, blinking. “Uh, hi.”

“Needed me, huh?” He grinned, then leaned down and kissed her. “That’s always good to hear.” Then he skirted by her and into the apartment.

“Come in,” she said with an eye roll and shut the door behind him. After securing the last latch, she leaned her back against the door. “Practice is already over?”

“Had a quick word with Coach Ace and he let me out early.” Greg peered into her one box. “Special circumstance. What’s this box for?”

“Packing. Greg, you can’t just come in and start distracting me. I have stuff to do.”

“Is this for donation, or what’s going on here?” He looked around, but she knew he was likely wondering exactly what was different. Almost nothing, really. The place had had zero personality this morning, and it still had zero personality, even after removing almost all her personal items.

“It’s for me to be ready to go. I have to talk to my landlord in the morning”—if I can find him—“but I should be able to be out by the end of the month with no penalty.”

“Good. This place sucks anyway.”

She started to argue, purely as a defense mechanism, but he stopped her by coming over and gripping her shoulders.

“I want you to move into something safer. I want to move my stuff in there with you. I want to spend every single night in the same bed with you, and not have to run back and forth between my bunk and your bed. And I want to know when you’re here alone, you’re safe.”

“Fantastic. I’ll just reach into my bag of magic cash and make that happen.” Hurt, she shook his hands off. “I’m really not in the best mood tonight, so you should probably go.”

“Can’t do that. Don’t cut me off,” he warned. “I’ve got important things to say and I really only want to say them once.”

Resigned, and knowing if she just gave in, he could leave faster, she sat on the couch. “Fine. What?”

“First off, you were right.”

She held up her hands and wiggled her fingers. “Yay, me. Right about what?”

“We should get in front of it. It’s . . . hard.” Greg swallowed, but this time she wouldn’t go to him to make it easier. “But I took the first step today, and I’m ready.”

“Are you?” She waited a beat, but he didn’t answer, or look at her. “I thought not. Don’t do this because I got fired. Don’t do this because you want to save me. I don’t want saving. I’ve got to figure this out myself.”

“I’m not saving you,” he bit back. “I’m . . . I don’t know. Every time I go over it in my head, it sounds stupid.”

“Say it anyway. Whatever it is. I’m not going to laugh.”