Page 68 of Zorro

“What you’re doing to him?” His voice was quiet. “It’s cruel.”

Everly flinched like the word was a whip crack. Her breath caught. But she didn’t interrupt him.

“I ghosted Helen,” he said. “Not for a night. Not for a week. Six months. I loved her, and I left. When I finally saw her again?” He swallowed. “She wasn’t furious. She wasn’t bitter. She was…goddamned understanding.”

Everly looked away, her hand tightening around the keycard until the plastic dug into her palm.

“Why did you ghost her?” she asked, voice small.

His breath left him like it hurt. “She’s Buck’s sister, and SEALs have a code. I’d already broken it a dozen times. I knew if I saw her again, I’d break it all over again.”

He slipped his hands into his pockets. His shoulders softened. “If you feel that way about Martinez, don’t wait.”

Then his jaw tightened, the line of it sharp in the low light. “But if you don’t…have mercy on him.”

Her chest twisted.

D-Day’s voice roughened, heavy with loyalty and truth. “You’re not just walking away from a man. You’re walking away from the heart of this team. The guy who makes us laugh to break the tension. Even wounded, he prioritizes us. He is our compass. The one who never asks for anything and gives everything.”

She couldn’t speak. Her throat felt raw. Helen appeared.

She moved in quietly behind him, her voice soft. “They love him.” She came to D-Day’s side, her hand slipping around his back, fingers tracing his spine like she’d known his pain by heart. “Head down to dinner, babe,” she said to him gently. “Let me finish this.”

D-Day’s eyes stayed on Everly. One last look. Sharp, kind, cutting.

Then he nodded and turned away.

Helen stood in the quiet that followed, hands at her sides, hair pulled back from a face that had weathered grief and still shone with something strong enough to anchor any man.

“Don’t let him force you into anything,” she said. “Zorro knows his own heart. He’s patient with pain. That’s what we do, us professionals. We get it. We heal. We wait.” Her eyes softened. “I waited for Drew. It hurt like hell. But it was worth every minute.”

“Where is he?” Everly whispered.

“I don’t know.” She touched Everly’s arm. He said he wasn’t hungry, although Joker kicked their asses today. He often swims when he can’t let go of something. That’s what a lot of them do.” She squeezed softly, then let go, walking away.

The hallway emptied like a tide pulling out to sea.

Everly stepped back inside and closed the door behind her. She leaned against it for a long moment, her breath caught somewhere between sob and sigh.

Then, finally, she picked up her phone to text him. To ease his agony. The thought of him working himself too hard, not eating, not being able to sleep.

The previous messages hit her like a current. In her progress through all her baggage, she’d forgotten he’d texted her.

Joker was brutal today. CQC over and over again until we all wanted to punch each other’s lights out. But damn, it was good. We were moving like lightning by the end.

She read the line twice. Her breath hitched. It was so damn real. His day. His truth. His life.

Then the next.

I also reconnected with Migs, the BOPE kid I treated back in the Philippines. The one who was bleeding out while introducing himself bold as brass. Same breath, begged us to help his team. It’s how we ended up here.

She hadn’t known. None of this. The story. The link. The bridge he had already built with his kindness and his care. Her chest ached. Another message.

He’s doing okay. Not great. Got some PTSD. We talked. Told him most of us do. I’ve had nightmares. I’m sure you have too.

That one cracked her. Rob never would have said that, not to her. He didn’t trust her with his emotions because she wasn’t his confidant, his love, or his wife. She was his enemy.

Zorro’s natural tendency was to offer up to her how he was feeling. He did it in Niamey. He did it in the Philippines, and she craved it like air.

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