Falling for my boyfriend's Navy brother Chapter 196

The hallway feels longer than it should. Every step echoes. Penny stays close, not saying anything, but I can feel her watching me. Reading me.

She knows something’s wrong.

She’s not wrong.

We round the final corner and I stop short.

He’s already here.

Rooster.

Sitting in one of the two crappy plastic chairs outside Ramsey’s office, bouncing his knee and staring down the hall like he expected us twenty minutes ago.

His head snaps up the second he sees me.

He stands.

And the next second, we’re in it — arms around each other, fast and fierce, like we’ve both been holding in breath we didn’t know we needed to let go.

“Damn, man,” Rooster mutters against my shoulder. “I didn’t know if they called you too.”

“They did,” I say, pulling back. “Just said to come. No details.”

“Same. No clue what this is. I thought…” He pauses. “You think it’s a recall?”

I glance past him, toward the closed office door. “I hope not. I’m not supposed to be eligible.”

Rooster snorts. “You think that matters?”

I don’t answer.

Because he’s right. Sometimes, when it’s big enough — when the stakes are high enough — eligibility is a formality.

“I don’t want to go back,” I say quietly.

Rooster nods, but there’s something bitter in the set of his jaw. “I don’t think I *can* go back.”

He lifts his arm — the one that never healed right. The muscle damage runs deep, past the tissue. He can’t hold a rifle longer than a few minutes without shaking.

“They wouldn’t recall me,” he adds. “Not like this. So that’s something, right? Whatever this is, it’s not about redeployment.”

I want to believe him.

But the silence around this summons... it doesn’t sit right.

Before I can respond, Rooster’s eyes shift down the hallway.

He goes still.

“The hell?” he says under his breath.

I follow his gaze.

Penny.

Still standing where I left her, near the hallway entrance. Hands folded. Eyes scanning the base like she’s memorizing every exit. Her long blonde curls shimmer under the buzzing overhead lights. She looks like she *glows* here — like someone painted softness into a grayscale world.

Rooster turns on me.

“You brought her *here*?”

I run a hand down my face, dragging my palm hard over my mouth. “Yeah.”

“Are you out of your mind? Do you know what half these guys would do for five minutes alone with someone like *her*?”

“I know,” I snap. “Alright? I know.”

My voice comes out sharper than I meant, but I don’t take it back. I drop my hand and sigh. “She wanted to come. And I didn’t want to leave her.”

Rooster shakes his head. “Man…”

Just then, a guy rounds the corner behind Penny, does a full once-over, and lets out a low whistle. Slow. Deliberate.

I whip around.

“*Not a word*,” I say, voice cold, eyes locked on him.

He keeps walking. Doesn’t look back.

I grit my teeth until my jaw aches.

Rooster watches him go, then mutters, “This was a mistake.”

“I know.”

We’re quiet for a beat.

Then he exhales. “Boomer’s here. I saw him in the rec wing earlier. I’ll grab him.”

I nod. “Boomer’s solid.”

“Wouldn’t touch a girl if you *paid* him. And he’d break the fingers of anyone who tried.”

“Exactly.”

Rooster claps me on the shoulder, hard once, then limps off down the hallway.

I turn and walk back toward Penny.

She’s watching me like she already knows she’s not going to like what I have to say.

I don’t speak right away.

I just pull her into me.

Arms around her waist, her cheek against my chest. I breathe her in — vanilla and winter and something warm that makes the tightness in my chest crack just a little.

I press a kiss to the top of her head.

Then I whisper, “They probably won’t let you into the meeting room.”

She pulls back, brows furrowing. “Why not?”

“Classified. Or they’ll say it is. Doesn’t matter. Someone’s going to sit with you while I’m inside.”

Her expression darkens. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

I half-smile. “You don’t. But I do. For my *sanity*.”

That earns me a look — soft, half-annoyed, but not angry.

“He’s a good guy. Boomer. You’ll like him.”

“Boomer?”

“Long story.”

She leans back just enough to see my face. “You’ll come back out?”

“Soon as I can.”

She nods. But I can tell — the worry’s back. The tight curl of it in her posture, the little line between her brows.

She doesn’t know what’s behind that door.

Neither do I.

But I’ve got to walk through it.

And leave her behind to wait.