“Right. And you did this with your truck?”

“It’s a very powerful engine, sir. You’d be amazed what a super winch and a trailer will do.”

“Why?” His tone rose in blatant curiosity.

“Never could back down from a dare, sir. Gaping flaw and whatnot.”

“A dare? You did this on a dare?”

A wry grin escaped. “Looks like it.”

“And the PT belts?” He arched a sardonic eyebrow at me.

My thumb grazed the Bateman tag at the back of my cover. “Social commentary on the new uniform policy.”

His lips twitched upward, but he stifled it before I could call it a grin. “On a dare. Right. And who helped you?”

There it was. My gaze didn’t leave his. My jaw clenched once. Twice. There was no way in hell I was ratting them out. Not going to fucking happen. But I couldn’t lie, either. “I didn’t need any help.”

He laughed. “Son, there’s no way you did that alone. Name the others, and there’s a slight chance you’ll be able to stay in flight school.”

And for thirty silver coins… “I alone strapped the bear to the winch. I alone towed that thing exactly three miles.”

He smoothed his hands over the papers in my file. “And you alone lifted a fifteen-hundred-pound statue onto the lawn?”

Poker face. “I’m freakishly strong, sir.”

“Son, I admire your loyalty to the others, but you need to start naming names, or it’s going to get very bad, very quickly.”

“Mine is the only name I’ll be stating, and I have not spoken a single lie.” I didn’t. I hooked up the bear. I unhooked the bear. I drove the Defender. The others had nothing to do with those parts. My file slammed shut, smashing my dreams to smithereens.

“You have until end of duty day to change your mind.”

Four years of ROTC, a private pilot’s license, endless nights studying for the flight aptitude test, and I was about to get kicked out of flight school over a fucking polar bear. Sure, it had been stupid, but seriously. A statue?

The sun beat into my uniform as I sat outside HQ my last five minutes before reporting to Major Davidson. Fuck, I wanted those wings on my chest. I wanted to climb into an aircraft, fly into battle, defend something larger than myself. Now I’d be packing my shit before the weekend.

For the first time in my life, I’d felt like I could do it—break away and make something of myself. As usual, I’d gone and fucked it all up. It was my specialty, after all.

Time was up. I savored the walk to his office, breathing in the scent of possibility for what I feared would be the last time. I knocked on his door.

“Come in.”

I hardened my resolve and opened the door. What the hell? The seats in the office were already occupied. Shit. No. “Walker? Masters?”

Josh made a face that was half smile, half grimace. “Did you really think we’d let you take the fall for this?”

“No chance. You’re not falling on the sword,” Masters added. His knuckles were white where he gripped his cover.

“How did you know?”

Major Davidson answered. “Your friends came forward about an hour ago.” He turned his back to us and stared out the window. “What am I going to do with you?”

We stayed silent while he deliberated. “You clearly disrespected and vandalized a cherished piece of Fort Rucker tradition, but you showed unwavering loyalty to fellow officers. On the other hand, they came forward of their own volition, showing remarkable integrity. What to do?”

A thousand smart-ass remarks raced through me, but I kept them all to myself. Now was definitely not the time to let my mouth loose.

His head cocked to the side. “You boys have any experience working with your hands?”

“Yes, sir. I grew up building boats,” Masters answered.

“Yes, sir,” Josh echoed.

“Yes, sir,” I added. If you counted the hours I’d put into the Defender, taping my hockey stick, or assembling my dorm room Ikea furniture, then sure, I had experience.

“Perfect. You’ll be working off your insult.”

Chapter Five

Paisley

15. Accomplish something meaningful without Dad’s help.

“Have a good day,” I whispered to the lady at the counter as I handed her the Wi-Fi password on a scrap of paper.

I grabbed my cell phone from my handbag. Nothing from Will yet. I couldn’t wait to see him tonight—another perk of having my own place. I left the phone on the counter and gathered a manageable pile of books. “I’m going to file these away,” I said to Alice. She waved me off with a small smile, wrinkling her gently weathered face. She was easily eighty but wouldn’t give the library up. It was her home, and I understood completely. It was quiet here. Calm enough that I could think.

“Just got a call—they’re sending over a few men to fix up your back room so we can get to that door. They’ll be here to check it over and estimate it for us.”

My mouth dropped open. “Really? I’ve been requesting all summer. Why now?”

“Well, someone up high must have heard you.” She patted my hand. “It will be nice to have that storage room put together.”

Higher up. Daddy. My stomach sank, but I forced a smile onto my face. “Sure will.” I stacked the books and headed for fiction. I’d purposely followed the correct guidelines, completed all the right paperwork, and never mentioned it to him. I didn’t want to get this done because he waved his magic wand and made it happen. Even my name tag said Paisley here, just to distance myself a little more from his Lee.