Page 77 of Duty Devoted

“I know what I said.” The words came out sharp, defensive. “But the security is good, and after everything…”

“And this job?” She gestured toward my ID badge. “Chicago Presbyterian? Working for your father?”

“Locum tenens. Temporary position filling in for docs on leave.” I focused on balancing the sugar packets. “Internal medicine. Nothing too complicated.”

“The girl who performed emergency surgery by candlelight is doing temp work in internal medicine?”

“They’ve offered to make it permanent.” The words fell between us like stones in still water.

“And?”

I met her eyes, seeing disappointment mix with concern. “I’m thinking about taking it.”

“Lauren.” Just my name, but weighted with everything she wasn’t saying. Everything I wasn’t admitting.

“What else am I supposed to do?” The sugar pyramid collapsed, packets sliding across the table. “I can’t… I’m different now, Sophia. The person who went to Corazón, who thought she could save everyone, who believed that good intentions were enough—she’s gone.”

“Because of what happened with Mateo?”

“Because of all of it. Because I was naive and stupid and reckless.”

The memories rushed back despite my efforts to contain them. Carlos falling dead in the dirt, Diego Silva’s casual disregard as he holstered his weapon. The terror of being hunted through the jungle. Logan’s hands steady on my wounds while he fought his own demons. The weight of a gun pressed to my temple, Logan using me as a human shield to get us to the boat.

Waking up alone.

“Carlos died because I tried to avoid a simple dinner.” My voice sounded distant, clinical. “If I’d just gone, if I hadn’t made excuses?—”

“Carlos died because Diego Silva is a sociopath who used murder as a teaching tool for his son.” Sophia’s voice sharpened. “Not because of anything you did or didn’t do.”

“That’s what Logan said.”

His name hung between us, heavy with everything I hadn’t said. Everything I’d been trying not to feel.

“The security contractor?”

“Yeah.” I stared into my coffee, watching the liquid swirl. “He… We…”

“You were together.” Not a question.

“We survived together. There’s a difference.” The lie scraped on the way out. “Adrenaline, proximity, shared trauma. Classic cocktail for emotional confusion.”

“Is that what it was? Confusion?”

I thought about his hands as he stitched my wound, despite the fact that he was emotionally falling apart. The way he’d held me during the hurricane, like I was something precious worth protecting. How he’d looked at me that last night, like he was trying to memorize every detail.

How I’d woken up alone.

“Doesn’t matter what it was. He left without saying goodbye. Made it pretty clear where I stood on his priority list.” I forced a laugh that fooled neither of us. “Just another successful extraction. Asset delivered safely.”

“Emotionally constipated combat Barbie.”

Despite everything, my lips twitched toward a smile. “Maybe. Or maybe he just saw things more clearly than I did.”

“Lauren—”

“Let’s not talk about it.”

Silence sat between us for a moment.