Page 56 of When We Collide

Oz smiles softly, but I can still see the sadness embedded in the depths of his brown eyes at the mention of her name. “First of all, no you wouldn’t, because I know the two of you well enough to know that you’re incapable of staying away from each other. And you know I wouldn’t have let you anyway. And secondly,I can never give Jeyla what you can, Dean. Even if she did have feelings for me, she would have been settling and I don’t want that. I want to be—and deserve to be—loved by someone as fiercely and unconditionally as I would them. Even if there was a chance for us to be together, I would always wonder if she’s comparing me to you. If we didn’t stand a chance when we thought you were dead, what chance would we have had to make it work with you around?”

My eyes drop to the floor and I stare at the beer cap between my feet. “Yeah, you’re right. If she did choose you, I wouldn’t have stuck around anyway, because like you said, I wouldn’t be able to trust or control myself, not where she’s concerned.”

“I know, which is why I’m happy you’re back together. It’s where you both belong,” Oz explains, pulling a cigarette from the box and lighting it. “There’s only ever been room for you in Jeyla’s heart. Until her last breath that girl will always be yours, Dean.” Oz advises while I sigh, staring off into the distance at the neighbour’s all white cat digging away at the patch of green in our front garden. “What is it?” he questions, picking up on my disinclination.

“I’m being awarded with a Victoria Cross for the whole Lukin operation.”

My brother’s brows furrow and he gives me a bewildered look. “Okay, that’s a good thing in your line of work, no? Why does your face look like you drank a pint of sour milk?”

“Because with the reward they offered me a job...” I explain, and Oz listens intently waiting for me to continue. “They want me to join an elite programme for the US Navy.”

Oz stares at me. “Elaborate...”

“It’s a programme where they pick the world’s most elite fighter pilots to go on high stakes operations. I’ll eventually graduate to an instructor. It’s almost impossible to get into and it’s every pilot’s dream and a damn privilege to be chosen and if I accept, I’ll have to move to the States, which means...”

“Higher risks and more dangerous missions,” I nod and Oz shakes his head. “Dean, you can’t be serious. You can’t do this to Jeyla again. You have a family to think about. How are you even considering this. Are you fucking kidding me?” The frosty bite in my brother’s tone has me flinching inwardly.

“I’m not considering it, I already declined the offer, but they asked me to reconsider joining the programme for a year and after that there’s an opportunity for me to be an instructor.” Oz pins me with a disapproving look and shakes his head. “Do you think Jeyla will consider coming with me?”

“Are you seriously asking that question? You’re talking about the girl who snuck onto a military operation in the trunk of a car where she could have been killed...again.” My jaw clenches when I think back to that day and how close I came to losing her.

“When are you going to get it, Dean? Jeyla will follow you into depths of hell without hesitation. The real question is, are you selfish enough to put her in a position where she’s left all alone in a foreign country with DJ while you're gone for months at a time on missions?”

“Before you even take this to her, you need to sit and think about what is truly important you, Dean. If you were single, yes it would be the opportunity of a lifetime, but you have responsibilities, a family to think about.” Oscar explains.

“I don’t need to remind you that you barely just survived the last mess. Is this opportunity worth you risking losing your family over? Because, I assure you, that’s what will come if you even consider taking this offer.”

I nod meekly, “I know.”

If it ever came down to choosing between my job and Jeyla, I would choose Jeyla of course. It wouldn’t even be a question. And as selfish as it is deep down, the undying thrill-seeker in me, the part of me that craved danger and risk, isn’t quite ready to ground his wings just yet.

“JJ?”I stare at Dean, my eyes wide and unblinking. “Honey, are you okay? Blink or something.” Dean's voice is laced with concern as he studies me closely.

“Wow...”

“What's wrong?”

“You... you just look...” I struggle to find the words to express how gorgeous he looks in that crisp RAF uniform with his hair neatly trimmed and styled, and his beard perfectly groomed. “So damn hot right now.”

A smile tugs at the corner of Dean's mouth, and he chuckles. “Is that so? Fucking hell, I thought you were having a stroke orsomething when you just froze like that.” I shake my head, still awe-struck at how gorgeous he looks.

With a playful sway, I make my way over to him and run my hands down the lapels of his jacket, smoothing out any wrinkles. “You sure do clean up well, Captain Reyes.”

Looking at him now with his beard trimmed and neatly groomed, his hair cut and styled as it used to be when we first started seeing each other four years ago, my mind is flooded with memories of us. The good, the bad and the downright ugly. The last time he was in this uniform was at his friend’s funeral. The weekend he proposed to me, and I swore blind I wanted to spend the rest of my life with this gorgeous yet infuriating man.

Today, I stand by Dean's side, my heart overflowing with pride and awe, as he receives the prestigious Victoria Cross from Her Majesty the Queen. The weight of his bravery, sacrifice, and unwavering commitment to protecting not only our son, but also his country, feels almost tangible in the air. If someone had told me just a few weeks ago that I would be here, witnessing Dean's declaration of valour, I would have scoffed and dismissed them as mad. And yet, here I am, watching this incredible moment unfold, still struggling to fully grasp the reality of it.

The golden sun streaming through the windows bathes the ceremony in a warm, soft glow, illuminating every detail of this momentous occasion. My heart swells with emotion as I watch him step forward to receive this well-deserved honour, the cheers and applause of his family and members of his squadron gathered echoes around us. It feels like a dream, one so vivid and beautiful that I never want to wake up. In this moment, surrounded by the recognition of his courage and the profound sense of honour lingering in the air, my eyes well up with tears and I can feel the lump in my throat thickening. I’ve cried anendless number of tears over this boy, but today the tears are those of joy.

And oh my God, the Queen of England just smiled at me.

My life is complete.

After Dean’sreward ceremony we drive back to his parents’ house where they of course throw a big barbeque to celebrate his medal. Dean’s parents invited his superiors and members of his squadron along with a couple of the guys from the Special Forces.

“Mrs Reyes,” Chief Scott greets me as I attempt to walk past him and one other senior officer I can’t really place that he’s been chatting away with. “I hope you’re staying out of trouble and car boots,” he adds with a smirk accompanied with a pointed look.

I force a laugh and resist the urge to roll my damn eyes. “Chief Scott, I am, yes. It’s nice to see you again. I hope you’re enjoying the food.” I say amiably and gesture to the plate of wings he’s holding.

---