Page 52 of Gravity
Stone folded his arms. “For years, you’ve built this team to survive without you. Maybe it’s time you let them prove it. Plan the meeting with Franklin and command it from here.”
“Maybe next time.”
“So, whenwillyou step back?” Stone murmured.
Silence stretched, the only sounds—the tick of the mantle clock, the fire crackling in the hearth.
“You’re talking about me retiring,” Dave said at last, feeling the weariness in his bones.
“Not tomorrow,” Stone answered roughly. “But one day soon. You’ve given everything you’ve got. I don’t want to watch it burn you down.”
“And then?”
Stone’s eyes softened, though his jaw stayed hard. “We could make a life outside this. Still together.”
The thought slid sharp through Dave before he could stop it—a cabin in the Colorado quiet, snow stacked at the windows, no alarms, no maps, no war table. Just mornings that started slow, Stone’s boots by the door because there was nowhere to be but with each other.
It wasn’t impossible.
Not anymore. Not with Stone saying it out loud.
Dave exhaled slowly. He turned the words over before answering.
“Will’s stepping up more every month,” he said finally. “Retirement won’t be overnight, but… it’s in motion.”
“I’m included in your plan,” Stone murmured. It came out like a statement, but Dave heard the question beneath it.
“Always,” Dave said, voice low.
Relief flickered in Stone’s eyes, and Dave hated that he’d ever made him doubt it.
“Good. Means I can stop nagging,” the man said gruffly.
Dave’s mouth tugged into the faintest ghost of a smile. He reached across the desk, hand brushing Stone’s. “You’d miss it if you stopped.”
“Maybe.” Stone let their hands rest together, steady and warm, his tone suggestive. “But I’ll find other things to occupy my time.”
Dave laughed, he couldn’t help it, then sobered. “So…how would this work?”
“If you go, I go. I’ll retire.”
“You’re young. Way younger than me.”
“You think that matters to me?” Stone’s eyes glittered in the light.
“No,” Dave whispered after a moment.
“Damn right,” Stone growled. “I want us together for whatever years we get. I don’t want to waste a fucking minute.”
Dave swallowed hard, emotion tightening his throat at the raw rasp of Stone’s voice.
He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. Stone’s grip on his hand said more than words ever could.
The next morning, the war room smelled like burnt coffee and cold steel, the air thick with the weight of too many sleepless nights.
Maps and manifests littered the table, Sparrow’s latest printouts stacked beside a half-dead laptop. Morning light knifed through the blinds, striping the floor in harsh bars.
Dave stood at the head of the table, hands braced on the scarred wood. Boston lounged in his chair with forced nonchalance, boot tapping a jittery rhythm. Sage sat quieter, green eyes watchful, pen spinning once, twice, between his fingers before he set it down.
