Page 12 of Served

Felix’s eyes search mine in the lamplight. His thumb traces over my lower lip, still bruised from his urgent kisses. The storm rages outside, but the room falls utterly silent after Felix speaks.

“What is it?” I whisper, my heart pounding against my ribs.

“I served with Jason.” His usually strong voice cracks. “Same squad. Same deployment. Same…attack.”

Time splinters into fragments. Jason’s laugh—clear and bright—echoes in my head.

The air freezes in my lungs as I try to process his words. “My Jason?”

“Everyone called him Gordy,” Felix says softly, “because we had three Jasons in our unit.”

“Gordy,” I repeat, rolling the nickname around on my tongue.

Felix’s eyes never leave mine. “I didn’t realize until you said his full name at the meeting. I swear, Letty, I wasn’t keeping it from you on purpose. I just wanted to find the right moment.”

I pull away, my mind racing to catch up. “Were you there when he?—”

“Yes.” His fingers slide under my chin. “I tried to get him out. But the blast…” He swallows. “They dragged me away. Told me I was bleeding out.”

His admission leaves me feeling hollow. I stare at Felix’s prosthesis, the carbon fiber gleaming faintly. The same explosion that took Jason’s life took Felix’s leg.

“You should’ve said something earlier.”

“I know. I just wasn’t sure how.” His fingers thread through my hair, grounding me. “I wanted you to see me first. Not just another ghost.”

A sob surges up my throat. But instead of grief, relief floods through me—wild and unexpected. This is a man who knew Jason’s voice, his jokes, the passion in his heart. A living bridge between my past and this dizzying present.

“Tell me something only someone who knew him would know.”

A small smile touches Felix’s lips. “He had this one lucky sock. Bright orange. Totally ridiculous. He said his abuela gave it to him. Wore it on every mission.”

Tears spring to my eyes. I’d forgotten about that stupid orange sock that my grandmother knitted for him. I’d teased him mercilessly about it.

“He talked about you all the time,” Felix continues, his voice soft and gentle. “Called you ‘mi vida’. Said you could out-cook any Marine’s wife. We thought he was full of shit—until we got the care packages.” His laugh is rough. “Gordy only had to share once and he had us eating our words. Literally.”

I choke on a laugh, tears spilling over, and Felix wraps his arms around me immediately, pulling me to his chest.

“He was so proud of you, Letty. So damn proud.”

I bury my face against his neck, breathing in his clean scent as I just let myself cry.

Felix tightens his hold on me and whispers against my hair. “I was the one who carried his tags back so they could give them to you.”

I pull back to look into his eyes, finding nothing but honest, raw pain there.

“I’m so very sorry for not saying something sooner,” he says, sadness creeping into his voice. “I just?—”

I press my fingers to his lips. “Shh. It’s okay.”

Strangely, it is. Instead of digging at the wound, Felix’s connection to Jason feels like the closing of a circle. Like Jason somehow led him to me.

“I know he’d want you to be happy, Letty,” Felix says softly. “That’s what he always said—that if anything happened to him, he hoped you’d find happiness again. We all had those conversations. The ‘if I don’t make it home’ talks.”

The knot of guilt I’ve been carrying in my chest for four years loosens to get the permission I never thought I’d receive.

I reach up and touch Felix’s rough, stubbled cheek. His eyes darken and he leans into my touch.

“Felix,” I whisper. “Kiss me again.”

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