As the cab sped away from the restaurant, Finn's fingers rubbed the tightness above his ribcage where the remnants of his shattered heart pulsed. The fabric of the jacket he'd borrowed to eat at the fancy restaurant strained against his forearm.

He'd rummaged through the small pile of casual clothes he kept on hand at the base to find the never worn dark jeans and crisp white shirt. Another thing he hated about being off base—fitting in. Beside him, Max looked just as uncomfortable in his light brown khakis.

Fatigues were so easy, so simple. Plus, Finn was used to them. No wardrobe clashes, just reach in and pull out a clean blue-gray coloured shirt, camouflage pants, heavy boots. No need to think. Rules and regulations dominated life in the Navy and the structure suited Finn.

"Can you tell me now why I couldn't finish my glass of Icellar wine back there?" Simon leaned forward, his knees knocking against the driver's seat.

Finn wiped away the salt spray from his eye. Well, there couldn't be any spray. He'd left the ocean days ago, but it was a force of habit. He would swear on his honour he could smell the salty ocean everywhere, like his fellow brother-in-arm insisted pain ached in a leg that was no longer there.

That's it. Focus on the big blue sea, with its rolling waves and the testimony he had to give, Finn told himself. Forget about what happened moments ago as he'd stepped out of the restroom. Forget about the soft grey eyes causing the air to still in his lungs. Forget about the sound of Em's voice, calling his name like she had after he kissed the tender skin at the base of her neck a lifetime ago.

At first, he thought he'd been hallucinating, a long-desired dream bursting from his brain. The only shut eye he'd managed on the plane had been laced with images of Em. It happened every time he returned stateside—the long-forgotten dreams, the dead and apparently not buried hopes, the want—rising from the depths of the cavern where he bottled up the one summer he'd felt loved.

Finn forced those thoughts away and held on to the lifeline of anger surging through him. This was all Simon's fault.

Years of avoiding coming home, tour after tour in foreign countries, taking on high-risk missions to not risk seeing her. But even he couldn't refuse orders, so he and Max boarded a flight bound for Washington.

The plan was to limit his movements to the base as much as possible, but his brother begged to see him. It had been two years since Simon met him in Lyon to spend a rare Christmas together. Once they'd been close, close enough, Finn ran to his older brother the summer after high school when he had nowhere else to turn. The summer he met Em. The woman who broke her promises and his heart.

"Emily was there." Her name felt like razer blades on his tongue. Eight years since he'd said it aloud.

Simon cranked his neck back toward the restaurant. "You're kidding."

"Whose Emily?" Max mirrored Simon.

Steel infused Finn's veins. "A girl I used to know."

The last time they'd been in the same room, she'd kissed him goodbye at the bus station. Emily's assurance she loved him and vow to be in the very same spot when he returned from Syracuse were the last promises from her sweet lips.

He'd tucked those words into his heart and held on to them during their separation, feasting off the sentiment. They were from opposite worlds, Emily with her summer mansion and him with a room over a boathouse, her off to study the law at university, him barely managing to hold down the bus boy job Simon had secured for him at the Waterfront Bar and Grill. Still, ever since she'd walked into the small town restaurant, sat by the window, starlight shining from her magnetic silver eyes, his compass fixed on Emily.

Anticipation had spiked as the bus turned onto the single road leading to Bridgetown, feeling like he was coming home. Because Emily was there. A lifetime of possibilities sat before him. Until he stepped off the bus.

"What are the odds?" Simon rubbed his hands on his knees. "Was Mary there too?"

Mary. Still the blond bombshell the men in Bridgetown had fought over that summer. His brother Simon among the list. They'd all been fools when the real prize was Em.

"Yes." Finn's fingers curled into a fist. The older sister had hardly been able to contain her triumph as she slid the letter across the bar that day. At first, he didn't want to take the envelope adorned with his name in Emily's small neat handwriting, the icy fear pooling inside him at the sight of it. But as he'd found out the hard way before, there was no denying the truth, no matter how hard you try to avoid it.

So he read the single page that changed his life. A few short paragraphs were all he was worth. Words seared into his brain, never to be forgotten.

Don't be too upset.

Upset? Emily had made it sound like she'd broken the zipper on his favourite sweater, not obliterated his happiness with a few pen strokes. No off campus New Haven apartment for them while Emily went to Yale. No more holding her hand as they strolled along the boardwalk or holding her all night. No longer having the honor of loving and being loved.

Try to understand.

The message was crystal clear. As her father had foretold, Emily had gotten bored of him. He wasn't good enough for her.

The pitiful 'I'm sorry' at the end of the letter was simply not enough of an explanation, but all he was left with.

Seemed nobody wanted him. Except the military. There, he'd found a different sort of home. A family born of need, not blood, who had your back because they depended on you as much as you on them.

Finn swept a glance at Max. Four years younger, Finn had taken the young cadet under his wings and, for good or bad, Max had stuck with him. When the worst happened, Max's loyalty never wavered.

Max's dark eyes swiveled between the two men. "And who is Mary?"

Stone houses blurred by as Finn stared out the window. Simon filled the silence. "One of the Montgomery sisters. Mary is the oldest, then Emily, and finally Beth. The family came to Bridgetown for the summers. Used to come into my restaurant when they were in town. They were kind of small town royalty."

Finn grit his teeth. Max knew nothing about Finn's life outside of the military. Finn liked it that way. The past was in the past and he was Finn the Commander, not Finn the Loser in Max's eyes. Max hadn't even known Finn had a brother until it came up in conversation that he was meeting Simon tonight. Finn couldn't deny Max's request to tag along, and more so was grateful for the buffer.

"Know all about big names in small towns." Max turned to Simon. "Grew up in one with less than two thousand residents. Everyone knows everyone's business."

"And gossip spreads faster than wildfire." Simon agreed. "The father, Phillip, ran for governor a few years ago."

"He got beat by a landslide." Finn couldn't deny the satisfaction he'd felt when the article came up on his feed.

Over the years, when the name Emily Montgomery ended up in the search bar of his browser, Finn told himself it was idle curiosity or a recognizance mission. Others might call it light stalking. Or self-imposed torture. Upon seeing the picture of the Montgomery sisters standing behind their father as he announced his campaign, Finn had spent the afternoon at the gym, beating the punching bag. The night he read about Phillip's defeat, Finn had celebrated by buying rounds of beer in a bar outside of Lisbon.

"True." Simon nodded. "Heard it nearly bankrupt the family in the process."

This was news to Finn. Since leaving for training camp, Finn had banned Simon from mentioning Emily or her family. Simon had ignored Finn and tried a few times that first year to get Finn to talk about Emily. To teach his brother a lesson, Finn put an end to any attempts by hanging up on his brother and not returning his calls for months. Simon got the message and the Montgomerys became a taboo subject between the brothers.

Emily having a child was news as well. The child in her arms at the restaurant had been adorable, bright eyes shining with curiosity, so like his mother. None of his investigations ever mentioned her marrying. He searched often enough, dreading the day he might see her smiling in an engagement photo or, worse, a white gown. Not once had he thought to search for birth announcements.

The train running through his head made it hard to concentrate. Outside the taxi, the world froze as they stopped at a red light. Max adjusted his position. "Did you talk to her?"

Finn shook his head. Talking was not his strong suit at the best of times. He'd scrambled to find something to say to the woman who haunted his dreams and stood in front of him in living colour. Over the years he'd played out the scenario in his head multiple times, just like he did plans before a battle, trying different tactics in each version to determine what might work best.

Sometimes he yelled at her, letting his fury fly, releasing the anger he reserved for punching bags at the army base's gym. Other times he demanded to know why she broke her promise, why she did what she did. And more times than he cared to admit, he envisioned pulling Emily into his arms and kissing her, begging her to take him back.

But now the moment was here. His mind refused to work. He stood mute before her; the words stuck somewhere between his brain and his heart.

He had stared though.

Drank in every aspect of the vision before him. The sun glinted off her hair, the red vivid in the afternoon light shining in from the room windows of the restaurant. Memories of twirling a strand of her locks around his finger flooded his brain. The privilege he'd enjoyed, the luxury to reach out and touch her hair, her shoulder, her hand. His eyes fell to where her fingers dug into the cloth of the child in her hands. Pale, delicate digits that had fit in the palm of his hand, traced the lines on his chest, poked him in the ribs when he was grumpy.

His gaze had swept to her sweetheart face, finding it flush with colour, perhaps from the effort of holding the squirming toddler in her arms. Images he'd found on the internet paled in comparison to the living specimen. Then he found her eyes. Those soft grey irises sucked him in and he was drowning in her.

Recognition had bloomed in those eyes as well, and a flame sparked to life in his chest. Emily had stared back at him like she had the first time they met, consuming and welcoming him at the same time.

She'd spoken, and Finn almost forgot eight lost years and had moved to kiss her. Common sense returned when Mary interrupted them.

For once in his life, Finn was thankful for Mary's interface. She'd stopped him from making a fool of himself. A mistake he'd vowed to never make again.