Page 109 of The SEAL's Duchess
She plucked at a stray thread on her bandage. He tried not to remember the way her hand had clutched his—bloody and desperate—on the collapsing walkway.
At last, she looked up. “Did you get in trouble? For coming out to the rig when you were ordered not to?”
“Formal reprimand. Could've been worse.”
“Ryder—”
“The success of the rescue helped. Getting you and Jack off alive, plus exposing BlackRock's crimes…” He shrugged his good shoulder, winced. “Command decided a slap on the wrist was sufficient.”
Relief flickered across her face. “That's good. I was worried?—”
“Don't be. Wyatt's collecting reprimands like baseball cards at this point. I'm just keeping up with family tradition.”
A small smile tugged at her mouth, but it didn't reach her eyes. The guilt was still there, written in the tension of her shoulders.
“Ivy.” He waited until she met his gaze. “I’d do it again. In a heartbeat.”
Her throat worked, eyes bright. She looked away first.
“And the police are talking to Sinclair,” she continued, after clearing her throat. “BlackRock’s legal team showed up this morning. Sarah said they’re already trying to spin it as equipment failure, but the data Jack gave us with Henderson’s testimony should hold.”
“Will it stick?”
“I think so. Especially once they find the man who attacked us.” A muscle fluttered in her jaw. “Sarah’s working with a sketch artist. Between my description and Jack’s, they should have something solid.”
“She’ll find him. My sister’s terrifying when she’s focused.”
“I know.” Ivy gave a small laugh and folded her arms, shoulders curving inward. “Everyone’s been so kind. Your family.”
“You don’t owe anyone thanks.”
“I do, though.” She looked up at him, eyes shining. “If you hadn’t come for us, Jack and I wouldn’t be here.”
Ask her to stay, you fool. Just ask.
But the words sat heavy on his tongue—mission-clear and impossible.
“You saved yourself first,” he said instead. “You and Jack. You got out of that container and lit the flares. I just came for the pickup.”
“That’s not—” She shook her head. “You know that’s not true.”
He did. But saying it out loud, acknowledging what had happened on that rig, felt like opening a door he couldn’t close again.
The machine beside his bed beeped softly. Outside in the corridor, someone laughed. Normal hospital sounds. Safe sounds. Not the shriek of tearing steel or her voice screaming his name.
“Ellie’s okay.” He made his tone lighter. “She’s with my parents. Mom said she’s been asking about you.”
Ivy’s expression softened. “Has she?”
“Every five minutes, apparently. ‘When’s Ivy coming? Can Ivy read me a story?’” He smiled despite the pain in his throat. “You made an impression.”
“She’s wonderful,” Ivy murmured. “You’ve done an amazing job with her.”
“Thanks.” He cleared his throat. “They’re bringing her by this afternoon.”
“I’d love to see her.” Seconds ticked loudly on the clock above the door. “If that’s okay.”
“Of course it’s okay.”
