Page 49 of Tactical Revival

“I’m not happy or in love,” Bianca says. “And I can see it plain as day.”

I roll my eyes and bump her with my shoulder. “Maybe we need to find you a man.”

“No thanks. Good on that.”

“How are things at the clinic?” Eliza questions.

Bianca, grateful for the subject change, jumps on it. “Not too bad. I prefer animals to people, so it’s always relaxing.”

“And Andie? How’s the boutique?”

“Doing great. A big store in New York reached out to me about carrying some of my designs, so we have a meeting next month.”

“What? Why didn’t you say anything before!” Eliza exclaims.

Andie grins. “It didn’t seem like the right time.”

“Are you kidding me? We should be celebrating you! That’s huge!”

Her cheeks turn pink. “I guess it is pretty cool.”

“Pretty cool?” Reyna fist pumps. “That’s amazing.”

I smile as I listen to them carry on about possible ways of celebrating such a big win, though my thoughts drift almost instantly to Jaxson. I can see him, bruised and broken, lying in bed, waiting for the woman who should have been his partner to walk through the door.

How lost he must have felt.

How sad.

All while trying to find the strength to heal his body.

It makes me fall even harder for a man I have no business wanting.

“Hey, Margot. Where’s your head?” Reyna asks.

“What? Oh, sorry.” My cheeks heat. “I was just thinking about how horrible it must have been for him to be left behind like that.”

“So your thoughts were on Jaxson.” Eliza wiggles her brows.

“Yeah, I guess they were.”

“And how often are they on the Marine?” Bianca asks.

“More than they should be. But we’re just?—”

“Friends,” Lilly finishes. “Yeah, we get it. But my question is, do you want to just be friends? Or are you craving something more?”

My phone rings, thankfully putting an end to the awkward admission I was about to make. “Hello?”

“Hey, Mom.” His tone is off, his voice different, and fear instantly turns my stomach into a pit.

“Matty, what is it?” I glance down at my phone. It’s not even his number. “Where are you calling me from?”

“A friend of mine dropped his phone, and I can’t find mine. Can you come get me?” he asks.

“Where are you? I thought you were at home.” My throat constricts, and I slide out of the booth on legs that feel like jelly. My boy. Is he okay? Is he hurt? Did someone take him? My thoughts go to Lanetti, to the worst-case scenario.

“I snuck out to meet some friends, and they left me out at the beach. It’s dark, Mom. I don’t want to walk home.”

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