Page 45 of Secret Hope (Hope Landing: New Recruits #5)

Kenji had counted the ceiling tiles in his recovery room at Travis Air Force Base medical center exactly forty-seven times. Post-surgery boredom was its own special kind of torture—especially when your mind kept replaying every mistake that had led you here.

All the imaging confirmed he wouldn’t need any further surgery. His ribs weren’t even broken. He'd be sore but functional in a few days. The physical healing was the easy part.

It was the mental inventory that hurt.

His phone buzzed on the bedside table.

Ronan: Deplaning now. See you in 10. Try not to escape before we get there.

He smiled despite himself. His team had been checking in regularly during their flight, a steady stream of messages that ranged from medical advice (Maya) to promises of embarrassing hospital visits (Axel) to photos of Spencer attempting to learn Australian slang from Sophia (Deke, with the caption "Kid's determined").

And now he had ten minutes until he had to face Admiral Knight. And confess everything.

The door opened, interrupting his spiral. But instead of the nurse he expected, Cassidy slipped inside, wearing an oversized Knight Tactical tee.

"Hi," she said softly, and something in her expression made his chest tight.

"You're early. Ronan said ten minutes?—"

"I may have convinced the airman at the gate to let me in ahead of the others." She moved into the room but stopped halfway to his bed, arms wrapped around herself. "We need to talk."

The words every man dreaded. Kenji pushed himself more upright, ignoring the pull of stitches. "Okay."

She studied him with that poker player intensity he'd first noticed at the tournament. "The buy-in for that tournament was five thousand dollars."

It wasn't a question.

"The way your hands shook, the desperation in your play, the complete devastation when you busted out. I've seen that look before, Kenji. At hundreds of tables over the years."

He couldn't meet her eyes. "Cassidy?—"

"You weren't there on vacation. You weren't there for a mission." She moved closer, stopping at the foot of his bed. "You were there because you had to be. Because you needed that money."

The words hung between them like a blade.

"When I approached you in that hallway," she continued, "I knew exactly what I was seeing. An addict at rock bottom. Someone who'd just lost everything and had no idea how to climb out of the hole."

"Then why did you?—"

"Give you my card?" She smiled sadly. "Because I also saw you save that man's life without hesitation.

Because when I offered help, you looked at me like I was offering something you'd forgotten existed.

Because..." She took a shaky breath. "Because I've watched desperate people destroy themselves at poker tables for years, and I always looked away.

Told myself it wasn't my business. But with you, I couldn't."

"I'm a gambling addict," he said flatly, needing her to understand the full scope. "I owed twenty-five thousand to a bookie. I've been lying to my team for months. I used operational funds to pay off the debt."

Her poker face cracked slightly. "How long?"

"Six months since it got bad. Started with small bets on missions—just something to take the edge off.

Then Vegas happened, and I discovered real action.

It spiraled from there." The confession poured out like water from a broken dam.

"I told myself I could control it. Classic addict thinking.

By the time I admitted I had a problem, I was already drowning. "

Cassidy moved to the chair beside his bed, sinking into it like her legs wouldn't hold her anymore. "I know how this story ends. I've seen it hundreds of times. The desperation bets, the lying to cover losses, the moment when you realize you've destroyed everything that matters."

"Yeah." His voice was rough. "Except I got lucky. Vega turned out to be real. The mission gave me cover to pay off the debt. But I still have to tell Admiral Knight. My team. Everyone."

"You're going to confess voluntarily?"

"I have to. They deserve the truth."

She was quiet for a long moment, and Kenji braced himself for the inevitable. This was where she'd explain, kindly but firmly, why someone in recovery couldn't be with someone whose life revolved around casinos.

"I've been thinking," she said finally. "About my life. About the choices I've made. Do you know I've taken almost a million dollars from gambling addicts over my career?"

He blinked at the unexpected turn. "That's not?—"

"Let me finish." She leaned forward, hands clasped tightly. "I tell myself it's just poker. That everyone at the table knows the risks. That I use the money for Haven House. But I've watched marriages end, futures destroyed, lives ruined. And I took their money and moved on to the next tournament."

"That's not your fault. They made their choices?—"

"So did you." She met his eyes. "But that doesn't make it easier to live with. When I saw you that day, shaking and desperate and trying so hard to hold it together... I saw every person I'd helped destroy. "

She squeezed his hand. "I've been doing a lot of thinking since that first night. About what I want my life to look like. About the cost of what I do—not just to me, but to people like you."

"Cassidy—"

"I'm done with professional poker," she said simply. "Not because of you. Because I've finally admitted what it costs. Every win comes from someone else's desperation. I had never thought of it that way before."

He stared at her. "But it's your career. Your whole life."

"Which is why it's time for a change." She took a breath. "I'll find other ways to fund Haven House. Corporate sponsorships, traditional fundraising, maybe some legitimate investing with what I've already won. And I need to find a new base of operations—somewhere that isn't built on gambling."

"That's... that's a huge decision."

"One I should have made years ago." Her thumb traced circles on his palm. "Meeting you just clarified what I already knew deep down. I can't keep profiting from addiction while claiming to help people."

"Where will you go?"

"I don't know yet. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere I can do real work without the casino lights.

" She smiled slightly. "Maybe somewhere with actual seasons.

I'm tired of artificial environments." She took a deep breath, her poker face cracking.

"And maybe... somewhere that would let me explore what this is between us.

If you're interested. After treatment, after you're stable, after we both figure out who we are without crisis pushing us together. "

The words hung between them, her biggest gamble laid bare without any cards to hide behind.

"I might relapse," he said quietly.

"You might." She met his eyes steadily. "But you're choosing to face it honestly. To get help. To tell the truth even when you could hide it. That's not the behavior of someone who wants to stay sick."

A knock interrupted them. Through the small window, Kenji could see his team clustered in the hallway, with Admiral Knight's silver hair visible at the back of the group.

"They're here," Cassidy said unnecessarily.

"Yeah." His throat felt tight. "I need to?—"

"I know." She stood but didn't let go of his hand yet. "Do you want me to stay? When you tell them?"

The offer was tempting, but he shook his head. "This is something I need to do alone. But... wait for me? After?"

"I'll be right outside," she promised. She leaned down to kiss him, soft and careful. "For what it's worth, I think they'll surprise you. Real family loves you through the mistakes, not despite them."

She slipped out, and Kenji could hear her greeting his team, Axel's voice carrying: "—supposed to be resting, not sneaking visits from beautiful women?—"

Then Admiral Knight's voice cut through: "Marshall up for a debrief?"

"He's all yours, sir," Cassidy replied.

The door opened, and Kenji braced himself. Time to face the music. Time to find out if the family he'd found with Knight Tactical could survive the truth about how far he'd fallen.

Time to find out if redemption was possible for someone who'd gambled away everything that mattered.