Page 89 of Coming In Hot

He cracks a smile and pulls me into a kiss that’s not rushed or desperate. It’s steady. Solid. Like something worth returning to.

* * *

The hangar smells like jet fuel, sunbaked steel, and dust. Familiar. Grounding. The kind of scent that worms into your bones and stays there even when you're continents away.

Rand is hunched over a clipboard when I walk in, squinting like the numbers are trying to lie to him.

“Rand,” I call, dropping my duffel with a thud. “How’s my ride?”

He glances up, straightening with a sly smile that’s equal parts trouble and affection. “Not ready.”

I frown. “Not ready?”

He shrugs, too casually. “She’s grounded for another hour. Compressor’s acting moody. Maybe more.”

I leveled him with a stare. “What, did she wake up on the wrong side of the hangar?”

He doesn’t answer, just gestures behind me with a tilt of his chin. “Why don’t you ask your team?”

I turn.

And just like that—I’m not in a hangar anymore. I’m home.

Orson’s the first to step forward, a wide grin splitting his face. “Thought you could sneak out without saying goodbye?”

Hogan’s right behind him, arms crossed, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Didn’t want you getting soft on us, Havoc. Gotta keep you on your toes.”

“Holyshit,” I breathe, chest tightening. “You assholes—what are you doing here?”

“Rotation ended early,” Hogan explains with a shrug. “Two weeks stateside for a little R&R.”

“And we figured we’d make the most of our liberty,” Orson adds, clapping me on the back hard enough to jolt my ribs. “By tormenting you one last time.”

I laugh—gruff and surprised and so damn full of feeling I can barely hold it in. God, I hope it’s not the last time.

Then Arlo steps out from behind them, hands in his pockets, that crooked grin of his intact.

“You didn’t think I’d let you leave without a proper sendoff, did you?”

“Don’t we usually have some kind of hazing ritual for retirement, Boss?” Hogan asks.

Arlo grins and shakes his head. “Having to entertain his entire crew for the day is punishment enough. Besides, I’m not shipping out with the rest of you tonight. Havoc is putting my needy ass up for a few days.”

I blink. “You’re not shipping out?”

“Not right away. Took a few extra days. Figured I’d hang around. Get underfoot.” His sharp gaze cuts to Rand, where it lingers.Interesting. “Raid your fridge.”

I can’t believe they’re here. The whole team. For me. A sharp twinge of pain stabs my chest at the idea of losing them, but I know I’m making the right decision. No second-guessing required.

We pile into the bar like we own the place. Which, to be fair, we sort of do for the next couple of hours. Hogan tosses his arm around Orson’s shoulder like they’re heading into battle, and Rand’s already eyeing the jukebox like it owes him money. Arlo walks beside me, hands in his pockets, taking everything in with that quiet, observant calm of his.

And then I see him—Jax. Leaning against the end of the bar, beer in hand, forearms flexed, looking like a wet dream in a worn band shirt, leather jacket, and a scowl meant specifically for me.

He got my text.

He sees the crowd behind me and arches a brow. “So. This is what you meant byone last goodbye.”

I grin. “Surprise.”