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Wind roared past her ears, slapping her hair back from her face, tangling it into the collar of her jacket. She was soaked, shaking, and absolutelyenthralled.
She braced herself on the rail, heart pounding. The water rushed past just inches below her. It shimmered with sun and speed, alive.
She stretched out one hand.
Trailed her fingers through the ocean.
It was cold and wild and infinite.
Other than racing her horse bareback across fields in her teens, this,this, was the most freeing thing she'd ever felt. She laughed, loud and unrestrained, the sound whipped away by the wind.
Nash anchored her against his chest. His chin rested on her shoulder. Warm. Steady.
She let herself lean into him, fingers still slicing through the rushing blue below.
Behind them, Vice shouted something obscene into the wind about trimming faster and how he liked his danger served medium rare. Hook was howling. Trigger grunted commands. Hitch adjusted sail tension with military precision.
It hit her then. All that bravado on the dock?It had beencamouflage. These men weren’t just operators.They weremaster sailors. They moved like the boat was part of them, like the wind took orders and the waterrespectedthem. The cohesion. The trust. The bond. It wrapped around her like rope and pulled tight.
Grace’s heart clenched, but not for herself. For them. For Nash, the man who loved this, lived this,lost so much in this.Ben. Burner. Superman.
Without warning, she shouted into the wind. “This is for the ones we lost!” The wind took her voice andcarried it. Tears blurred her vision, gone the moment they slid down her cheeks, blown away, salt into salt. She shouted again, louder this time, the words breaking free from someplace deep, “Benjamin Riggs. Luis Marroquin. Kento Kobayoshi.”
Nash’s arms tightened around her, locking her to him like the only thing anchoring him to the earth. Grace lifted her head to the wind again. Then,her losses.“For everyone I couldn’t save. For the voices we still carry. I release them now.” She closed her eyes. Her voice trembled, but her heart was steady. “May they find eternal peace in the gentle waves and endless horizons. Their spirits shall forever dance with the tides, whispering through the winds, and shining in the depths of the sea.” Her voice cracked, soft now. “In this vast expanse, they are free, cherished, and remembered always.” Then, louder, “Fair winds and following seas!”
The boat cut hard across the water like itheard her. Nash buried his face against her neck. She could feel his grief. His pain.His love.When she turned, his eyes met hers. Raw. Shining.Around them, the others stood quiet. Trigger dipped his head. Hitch raised a fist in silent tribute. Hook wiped at his eye like it was sea spray. Vice leaned against the mast and said, rough, “SEAL babe.” Then louder, for everyone to hear, “Honorary fucking SEAL babe.”
In that moment, Grace wasn’t just home. She belonged.
They sailed hard for an hour, tacking, trimming, yelling, nearly losing Vice to a rogue boom.
Hook growled, “Man overboard protocol isnot optional.” At one point, Grace genuinely thought Trigger smiled.
As they docked, muscles aching, Grace leaned against the railing and looked out at the water with softness and peace in her heart. Nash stepped beside her, slid his fingers through hers. “Well?” he asked.
She smiled, hair wind-wild and cheeks pink. “I see why you love it.”
“It’s like combat,” he said, going for levity. After her emotional tribute it was welcome. “Only with better snacks.”
“You were right, though.”
“About what?”
“Five SEALs on a sailboat.” She squeezed his hand. “Definitely not boring.”
“Oh, wait. When it gets warm. You’re learning to swim.”
“Yeah,” Vice said as he passed. “SEAL style. It’s called drown-proofing.”
Without missing a beat, Trigger pushed Vice off the dock into the water. The man came up sputtering and swearing like a sailor, treading water enough to give Trigger a double bird. Everyone doubled over. But dammit if that man didn’t look twice as sexy with wet hair. Then every one of them dove off the dock into very cold water. Grace just shook her head. “Maybe we should find some hot chocolate and your blankies so you toddlers can get warm and rested during your needed naptime. I swear.”
“A SEAL babe would join us,” Vice said.
“Nice try,” she said. “When you're done splashing, I’ll be in the car.”
Fifteen minutes…fifteen before they came traipsing to the car. Before she could draw breath, they were all stripping down. She averted her eyes, but not before she saw wet flexing, sculpted backs, thickened biceps, and some of the finest asses ever molded by Uncle Sam, but Nash…all she could see was him. Of course, they were prepared for a dunking. Grace stepped out. She hugged each of them. “You have a safe trip back to base.”
“Cookout initiation,” Vice said, his drying hair looking like black silk. Then he bent down and kissed her cheek. The rest of them did the same. “Later, Prophet.” Vice said. “Put a fucking ring on it.”