Page 46 of Devlin

The conversations were punctuated with the reality of how much time had passed, yet it flowed as though they were oldfriends. He could see the fatigue pressing in on her and had reluctantly left her room early to give her a chance to rest. He wanted to take care of her, but knew if he pushed too hard, she might retreat. He wasn’t about to yield an inch of what he hoped they were building.

Now, as they walked, he instinctively wanted to reach for her hand, to feel her touch, and let her know he was steady at her side. But he held back, uncertain how she felt about public displays of affection in the camp. He reminded himself that he could be patient.

Yet, deep down, patience warred with something else. Now that they had stepped beyond mere polite words and declared the rekindling of their friendship, he wanted more. Hell, he wanted everything.

As they moved down an empty stretch of the lane, she suddenly slowed, then stopped altogether. The camp noises seemed to fade, leaving only the whisper of the wind and the faint noise of the others behind them. When she turned to him, her gaze steady, her question caught him off guard.

“Tell me about your job. Is it a lot like when you were a SEAL?”

He chuckled, shaking his head as he considered how best to answer. "No, not like that." A slight shrug accompanied his words before he added, “There are a few similarities, but nothing was as intense as my time on the teams.”

Mia didn’t respond right away, but her gaze remained fixed on his, patient, expectant. Encouraging.

So he went on. “The SEALs, like all special forces, work under strict military protocols. But we also had a lot of autonomy in the field, making split-second decisions that could mean life or death. Being in the private sector is different. There’s more freedom. We get to choose which cases we take and decide how to run the business.”

She pressed her lips together, a thoughtful crease forming between her brows. “Why is it called Lighthouse Security Investigations?”

A grin pulled at his mouth. “It sounds weird, I know. But I promise it’ll make sense once you hear the story.”

He saw the curiosity in her eyes sharpen, and he loved that she was interested. “There was a former Army Special Forces leader who retired back to his home state and started a security and investigations firm. It just so happened that he owned a decommissioned lighthouse on the Maine coast. He built his business, Lighthouse Security Investigations, there and started hiring other former Special Forces operators. After a few successful years, he partnered with a friend on the California coast to expand the business. That’s how LSI West Coast was born.”

Mia’s eyes widened, glinting with amusement. “Oh, please tell me there was a lighthouse there, too?”

Laughing, he nodded. “Yep, there was.”

She stepped into the center of the lane, placing her hands on her hips, the golden light of the late afternoon catching in her hair. “While I may have forgotten some geography, the last time I checked, Montana was a landlocked state.”

He smirked. “No, you haven’t forgotten your geography.” He held her gaze, appreciating the spark of humor in her expression. “Remember how I told you my boss, Logan, flew helicopters for rescues over the mountains?”

She gave a small nod.

“Most mountain ranges used to have light towers to guide planes over dangerous terrain. Some countries still use them. But when satellite navigation became the norm, the US decommissioned and tore most of them down. Montana, though? It still has six standing.”

Her lips curved knowingly. “And one of them is close to where you are.”

“Yep.”

She tilted her head, studying him. Something softened in her expression, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. In a voice touched with nostalgia, she murmured, “You know, I remember when we were together, you always took the time to talk to me. Explain things. Tell me about your day, or your job, or your class. Even the missions when you could. You’d listen, keeping your focus on me as though you had nothing else better to do.”

His chest tightened at her words, at the truth in them. “It was easy," he admitted, his voice rougher than he intended. "Being with you was the best feeling in the world.”

So many emotions passed through Mia’s eyes as she sucked in a deep breath before tilting her head slightly as if considering her next words carefully. “So back to your work. Is the motto to keep people safe?”

Devlin recognized the subtle shift, her return to a topic that felt secure, one that wouldn’t stray into deeper waters. He smiled, playing along. “The business doesn’t have a specific motto, but yeah… that would be the idea.”

A light gust of wind swept between them, stirring the dust along the lane and tugging at a loose strand of her hair. Without thinking, he reached out, tucking it gently behind her ear. His fingers skimmed her skin, and he felt the faintest hitch in her breath. He let his hand drop but held her gaze. “In fact, we’re known as Keepers.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah… after the lighthouse keepers who guided others to safety.”

She nodded, and her face softened. They fell into step again, moving down the narrow path. The murmurs of the campsurrounded them once more—children’s laughter, the clang of a cooking pot, the distant calls of relief workers moving supplies.

“What kinds of things does security entail?” she asked, her curiosity still evident.

“We design security systems and contract out to vetted businesses for installations. We also provide personal security for specific reasons, but we don’t have ongoing contracts with any one person or organization.”

“That sounds kind of exciting,” she said, the interest still in her voice. “And the investigating?”

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