Page 6 of Rescuing Aria

We sweep the last of the receipts into the drawer, turn off the display lights, and do one final walkthrough—checking locks, counting cash, restocking the back room with what little remains. Ember flips the CLOSED sign with a flourish.

“Ready?” I grab the keys, glancing around the space that now smells like memories and magic.

“I’ve got a few last-minute things. I’ll meet you there.” Ember tucks a box under her arm, her eyes still bright from the rush.

“You sure? Want me to wait for you?”

“No, you go ahead. I won’t be long.”

“I’ll see you there.” I head out with the others.

Jon finds my hand without a word, his fingers lacing through mine like he’s been doing it forever. It feels natural. I don’t even question it.

We’re all heading to Blaze and Ember’s place—one last toast to mark the end of something hard-fought and the beginning of whatever comes next.

TWO

Jon

Later that evening,I stand on Blaze’s deck overlooking the Pacific, mesmerized by how the setting sun transforms the rolling waves into a canvas of amber and gold. The salty breeze carries the scent of grilling burgers and hot dogs, mingling with the rhythmic percussion of waves breaking against the shore below.

String lights twinkle overhead, dancing with the glow of countless candles—Ryn’s creations—their golden cracks illuminating the gathering like earthbound stars.

“Your turn to flip, Blaze,” Mac calls out, brandishing a spatula like a weapon. “I’ve done my duty as grill sergeant.”

“Last time I left you unsupervised with beer, you taught CJ that ridiculous drinking game.” Blaze groans dramatically.

“Which is now standard training procedure,” CJ interjects, raising his bottle with a grin. “Best way to teach rookies patience during stakeouts.”

“God help us all if Delta team’s methods ever become standard.” Jenny rolls her eyes, but her smile is fond.

The easy banter washes over me, familiar and comforting. Charlie and Brett stand near the railing, heads bent in quietconversation, occasionally glancing my way. There’s something in their expressions that makes my chest tighten—not the sharp pain of recent months, but something softer, an anticipation.

Brett catches my eye and tilts his head slightly. A gesture I know well from years of wordless communication in the field.We need to talk.

I nod, and Aria shifts beside me. She knows better than most about the complicated history between Charlie, Brett, and me—the years we spent as more than just teammates. The dissolution of our relationship left wounds that are still healing, though tonight they ache less than usual.

“Go ahead,” she says softly, squeezing my hand. “I’ll help Ryn set out the desserts.”

I follow Charlie and Brett to the far corner of the deck, where the crash of waves provides privacy from the rest of the group. The sunset casts long shadows across their faces, and for a moment, I’m struck by how familiar they still are to me—the curve of Charlie’s smile, the way Brett stands with his weight shifted slightly to his right side.

“We wanted to talk to you first,” Charlie begins, her voice softer than usual. The vulnerability there reminds me of late nights when the three of us would lie awake, sharing fears we never voiced to anyone else.

Brett leans against the railing, his posture deliberately casual, but I recognize the tension in his shoulders. We’ve been through too much together for me not to see it.

“Something’s changed.” It’s not a question. The sea breeze carries the scent of Charlie’s perfume—the same one she’s worn for years, the one that still sometimes haunts my dreams.

“Jon, you’ve been…” Charlie takes a deep breath. “God, how do I even say this?” She looks to Brett, a silent plea for help.

“We were good together,” Brett says quietly. “The three of us. For a long time.”

“We were,” I agree, my throat tight with unexpected emotion. Memories flash through my mind—Charlie’s laughter in bed on Sunday mornings, Brett’s arm slung over my shoulder during movie nights, the three of us moving together like one.

“When things ended, it wasn’t because we stopped caring.” Charlie steps closer, close enough that the flecks of gold in her eyes shimmer.

“I know.” The admission still stings.

Our relationship dissolved not from lack of love, but from the slow, painful realization that we were growing in different directions. The arguments grew more frequent, the silences longer. Even the passion that once was our foundation began to feel like a desperate attempt to hold onto something already slipping away.