Page 23 of Soaring and Steadfast

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“I’m sorry too,” she echoed, then hesitated. “We’re apologizing for something we didn’t have control over.”

“I know.” He let out a low chuckle, but it was frayed at the edges, almost broken. “I feel like I’ve been dumped overboard and told to tread water as long as I can.”

She swallowed against the unexpected sting in her throat. “That’s a pretty good analogy.”

“I suck at swimming,” he added, a breath of laughter escaping him.

“Me too.” She glanced at him, then frowned. “Wait, aren’t all of you in theNavy?”

He gave her a crooked smile—small, uncertain, and yet devastatingly boyish. “Yeah,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I could text you later this evening and explain about the swimming comment when we’ve both had time to think andcool down… or maybe we could have a cup of coffee and talk now.”

Lila hesitated, her gaze flickering around the room. Her world had tilted, and she wasn’t sure if she could handle it. But standing here, with him watching her like she mattered, like their connection was something worth fighting forfelt like a step forward instead of running away.

She exhaled slowly. “Why would he put tinsel on the tables? It’s everywhere.”

His answering laugh was soft, relieved. “Trophy is not the brightest crayon in the box—but his heart is in the right place.”

She glanced at him, something easing in her chest despite the chaos swirling inside her. “Are you the brightest crayon?”

“Heck no,” he said with a nervous chuckle, shifting on his feet. “We said no lies, so I’ll be completely honest with you—I sometimes wonder if I’m even in the box or if someone left my crayon on a hot sidewalk.”

Something inside her cracked, just a little.

She let out a wry laugh, nodding. “I get that too.”

“What’s your crayon color?”

“Crap brown. You?”

“I was thinking more of a mud or tar shade of brown—which could be crap-filled also.”

She sighed, rubbing her hands over her arms. “What a mess.” Her voice was softer this time, almost vulnerable. “And I don’t mean the room.”

“I get it,” he murmured. Then, after a moment, “Why don’t I start the coffee and get out a trash bag?”

She hesitated—one more breath, one more second of doubt. And then she nodded.

“I’ll wash the couch cushion and towel, and start picking up.”

And just like that, they moved forward. Not as strangers, but not as friends either. There was something fragile hanging onbetween them… not broken, but definitely frightened on both parties. It was a terrifying thought that a friendship that they had built was set upon a firm foundation filled with doubt, fear, and, unfortunately, distrust.

A broken glass would never hold water – and that is what Lila felt like she had right now. A fractured, cracked glass that was her life and would completely shatter under the slightest pressure.

Glancing over her shoulder at the man who had a trash bag, picking up the decorations and neatly stacking the unused plates and forks nearby… she saw him slowly look in her direction, meeting her eyes, and knew without a doubt that he was of the same mindset.

This friendship was doomed long before it had the chance to begin.

The weight of unspoken things filled the space between them, thick as the scent of freshly brewed coffee. Ten minutes had passed in heavy silence, their breaths the only sound beyond the low hum of the washer she’d just started. A small kindness—one less thing for Stephanie to worry about when she got home. Louis finally moved, breaking the stillness, pouring the dark liquid into two cups with careful precision as if the act itself required focus.

“What do you take in your coffee?” His voice was quiet, cautious.

“A smidge of cream and one sugar.”

“A girl after my own heart,” he murmured, a flicker of something lighter crossing his face before he caught himself. He hesitated, shifting his stance. “I meant that casually, Lila. I take mine with just a bit of cream or milk and half a sugar.”

She met his gaze, something fragile lingering in the air between them. “I wasn’t taking it the wrong way. We’re just talking about coffee, and that’s it.”

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