Page 28 of Captivating Nash

Nash stood at the helm, his eyes scanning the horizon, but his mind was far from the present moment. The adrenaline from their escape still coursed through his veins, but something deeper churned within him.

They were safe for now, but the weight of everything that had happened, everything they’d uncovered, pressed heavily on his chest. Marcus’s betrayal, Broadmore’s involvement—it all stirred old wounds, wounds that had never fully healed. And then there was Deanna. She sat in the passenger seat, silent but steady, her eyes fixed on the dark water ahead, the wind whipping her hair back from her face.

Nash’s grip tightened on the wheel. He could feel the tension building between them, not the kind of tension that came from danger, but something quieter, more personal. He’d spent so much of his life locked up inside his own head, walled off from the people around him, the weight of his past too heavy to share. But Deanna—she had seen him at his worst, fought by his side, trusted him in ways that had caught him off guard.

And she deserved to know.

The boat cut through the waves, sending a light spray of saltwater into the air, but Nash barely noticed. His thoughts were swirling, memories creeping in like shadows at the edges of his mind. He wasn’t the type to share his burdens, not with anyone, but with Deanna, something was different. There was a bond between them now, forged in the heat of battle and in the trust they had built. And maybe it was time to stop running from the past.

He took a deep breath, his voice breaking the silence. “I told you a little about why I left the SEALs.”

Deanna’s head turned, her eyes softening as they met his. She didn’t say anything, didn’t push him to continue, but the look on her face told him she was listening, that she understood there was more to this story than he had let on.

Nash’s jaw clenched, his gaze dropping to the wheel. The memories clawed at him, jagged and painful, but he forced himself to continue. “It was a mission in South America. Classified op, deep into the jungle. It was supposed to be easy—a high value target to be sure, but the intel was supposed to be top notch. It wasn’t.”

He paused, his knuckles white as he gripped the wheel, the familiar ache in his chest rising with every word. “Nothing went according to plan. We were ambushed and the target had been dead for some time—longer than the intel we had was old. We were set up.”

Deanna remained quiet, but he could feel her attention, her presence a steady force beside him giving him the strength to continue.

“Our extraction point was compromised, and my team got pinned down. We were outnumbered, outgunned. It was chaos.” His voice tightened, the pain of that memory surfacing. “We fought like hell to get out, but… it wasn’t enough. I lost three men that day. Brothers. And I made the call to pull us out and leave our dead behind. It was the right call, but it didn’t feel like it then. It felt like I’d failed.”

The boat rocked gently beneath them, the open sea a quiet contrast to the storm of emotions building inside him. Nash hadn’t spoken about that day in a long time. It had been easier to bury it, to leave the SEALs and pretend that part of his life was behind him. But it wasn’t behind him. It never would be.

“Even if I’d wanted to, I couldn’t stay after that,” Nash admitted, his voice raw. “I would never have been able to look my team in the eye, knowing I’d made the call to leave our dead behind. SEALs don’t do that. I left the SEALs, started my own thing—took missions for Cerberus where it was just me, so I wouldn’t have to worry about anyone else.”

Deanna’s voice was soft when she finally spoke, cutting through the tension in the air. “You weren’t responsible for what happened to them, Nash. You made the call that saved the lives of the others. You can’t carry that weight alone forever.”

Nash shook his head, the guilt he had carried for so long gnawing at him. “That’s the thing, Deanna. In combat, you do carry that weight. That’s the job. You make decisions, and sometimes people don’t come home because of them. Doesn’t matter if it’s the right call or not—it still eats at you.”

Her eyes softened, and she leaned in closer, her hand brushing his arm lightly, a touch that grounded him. “But you did what you could. You’re not a man who leaves people behind unless trying to bring the dead home is going to cost the lives of the rest. I’ve seen that in you. I’ve seen how much you care.”

The sincerity in her voice cut through the walls he had built around himself. She wasn’t just saying it to make him feel better—she believed it. She saw him, saw the parts of him he had tried so hard to hide.

And in that moment, for the first time in years, Nash felt something close to relief.

“It doesn’t go away,” he admitted quietly, his eyes meeting hers. “But maybe you’re right. Maybe I’ve spent too long punishing myself for something I couldn’t control.”

Deanna’s hand lingered on his arm, her touch warm and steady. “You don’t have to carry it alone anymore, Nash. We’ve been through hell together. Whatever happens next, we’ll always be connected.”

Nash’s throat tightened, the vulnerability of the moment catching him off guard. He wasn’t used to this—to sharing his burdens, to letting someone else in. But with Deanna, it didn’t feel like weakness. It felt like… strength. Like maybe he didn’t have to keep fighting this battle alone.

The boat bounced over another wave, the spray of saltwater hitting his face, but Nash barely noticed. His focus was on Deanna—on the woman beside him who had seen him at his worst and stayed by his side anyway.

He glanced over at her, the wind tousling her hair, her eyes bright with understanding. And for the first time in what felt like years, Nash felt a flicker of something he hadn’t let himself feel in a long time.

Hope.

They were out on the open water, their path uncertain, the danger still looming, but with Deanna beside him, Nash felt ready for whatever came next.

“I haven’t had anyone to watch my back for a while now,” he said, his voice rough but lighter than before.

Deanna smiled, the corners of her lips turning up softly. “Get used to it.”

Nash felt his heart swell with something unfamiliar, something good. And as the boat sped toward the horizon, cutting through the waves, Nash knew that no matter what lay ahead, he wasn’t alone anymore—not with Deanna by his side.

Chapter Twelve

Deanna

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