The sun shone down with a blistering heat. It was dry and humid, neither of which were eased as our Jeep bumped along over the dirt road at a fast enough speed to cocoon us in a self-made dust storm. But neither myself nor the other three members of my team were bothered by the conditions. After all, when you've been wearing the same camouflage khakis, combat boots, and tactical gear for years—running through the same routines and living within the strict confines of a marine battalion—it all simply became a part of you.

You got used to it. Learned to deal with it.

Which I had, and to our standards, today's task was fairly straightforward. A drive around we'd done what felt like thousands of times to ensure the miles surrounding our base were secure. That didn't mean we took it any less seriously though.

"Anything on your side, mate?" Dawson asked, his voice loud enough to hear over the engine.

Squinting through a pair of binoculars, scanning the vast deserted landscape, I felt myself start to shake my head. There was a response on the tip of my tongue, but then...

BOOM!

My eyes snapped open with a gasp as I sprung up into a seated position in bed. I could feel sweat coating my body, my heart pounding like rain falling upon a window pane during a storm, and I scrambled to throw my blankets off to clutch my left leg. What was once skin and bones was now a contraption of cables, bolts, and titanium. Completely artificial, yet on nights like these—which were more frequent than I tended to admit—I woke up feeling the sharp, burning pain from the accident. Phantom pain, because there were no nerves or muscles left to be hurt. It was all psychological.

My shoulders sagged as I came to realize that everything was fine, at least in this moment, but that didn't stop me from hyperventilating. I was trying to claw my way away from the horrors inside my mind, but it was hard, knowing that while it might've only been a nightmare tonight, it was a vivid recount of my disastrous last day of active deployment in the marines. When the world as I'd known it had blown up in my face. When I'd lost so much. Too much. A day from my past that I couldn't shake, no matter how hard I tried.

It could've been a few minutes or an hour that I sat there, hunched over with my head between my knees, until I began to feel my heart rate slow down. When it finally felt like nothing more than a light pressure in my chest—one that I could deal with—I glanced towards my side table and saw that it was just before seven in the morning.

Not horrible, considering there'd certainly been days when I'd woken up in a similar fashion after resting only an hour or two and had been unable to fall back asleep. At least today, I could simply get an early start.

Pulling on a pair of athletic shorts and a loose-fitting hoodie, I then slipped into my running shoes and headed out to clear my head. Even on days when my nights weren't plagued with the horrors of my past, I found that morning runs brought a sense of calm to my day. They were a constant. It was just that some days, like today, they were needed more than others to chase away the turbulent thoughts inside my head.

It was something about how my feet hit the pavement, grounding me in Seattle. In the city where I'd grown up. It signified that I'd made it home, unlike the rest of my team. That I was far, far away from the marines, the desert, and most of all, landmines.

Because that's what had gotten our team in the end; an ill placed landmine.

No, I thought. Don't go down that dark road again.

Shaking myself out of it, I continued on my route, running a little over five miles before I found myself back at my townhouse, starving. After guzzling half a bottle of water, I got to work whipping up a ham and cheese omelet, as well as a peanut butter protein shake. All of which I scarfed down rather quickly before heading to the bathroom.

After a quick shave and shower, I pulled my prosthetic cover off my leg and walked to my room with a towel tied around my waist. I reached for my phone, only to see a message had come through from Finn.

Can you drop by at ten? I want to talk to you about something.

Knowing him, even if I asked questions, he wouldn't give me any answers, so after confirming he meant the pub and not his apartment, I replied telling him I'd be there. For what though, I had no idea.

Not wanting to dwell on it, I sat down for a bit to watch a sports highlight reel for the week, and once it hit quarter to ten, I hopped in my car and drove over to the pub. Parking in the back lot, I walked by the stairs that led up to Sadie's apartment and found myself shaking my head as I recalled how she'd so easily eavesdropped on Finn and I's conversation yesterday. And while I'd been shocked when she spoke up and outed herself, I hadn't necessarily been surprised. It just confirmed my first read on her had been correct.

What I had been fairly impressed with, however, was her ideas. Because while she'd been nosy and overstepping, she'd had good ideas. Ones that could actually help Dawson's, if Finn or I could figure out how to actually execute on them.

"Hey, man," Finn greeted from behind the bar when I pulled open the side door. "How's your morning been?"

Considering I'd stopped telling Finn about my nightmares years ago, I lifted a shoulder and said, "Fine. Though I'm curious as to what was so important I had to drop by three hours before I usually come in?"

Something shifted in his expression—as though he was suddenly timid and unsure—and that had me furrowing my eyebrows. "Well, you see..."

I didn't get to hear the rest of his response, because he stopped talking when the door behind me was pulled open and in walked Sadie. Dressed in a bold, blue blazer and a pair of jeans with embroidered pockets and patches of fabric stitched to them—an outfit that I happened to notice sculpted her every curve, and had her standing out in the very empty pub. Though, to be fair, I was sure she'd be hard to miss even if it was the middle of happy hour and the place was packed.

The only thing I didn't understand was what she was doing here.

"Get lost?" I asked, lifting a brow.

"No," she drawled, crossing her arms. "And besides, I know you're a stickler for rules and all that, but I'm barely a minute late."

"Late? For what?"

As an uneasy feeling settled in the pit of my chest, knowing that Finn had indeed been acting cagey before she walked in, I realized that this had been another one of his setups. And after a few moments, when she saw my expression shift with apprehension, Sadie appeared to pick up on it as well.

"What the hell," she exclaimed. Her gaze immediately snapped towards Finn, narrowed, and she lifted a hand to point in his direction. "You promised that he knew. That he was on board and this wasn't another weird macho-thing between the two of you I was getting put in the middle of."

"I was just about to tell him before you walked in," Finn said, holding his hands up in mock surrender.

The tension in the room was thick—full of frustration and confusion, and as I flicked my eyes between Finn and Sadie, I finally came out and asked, "Can one of you just tell me what the fuck is going on?" I turned to Sadie. "What are you doing here?" Then I turned to Finn. "And what did you do without telling me?"

Sadie had had enough though, because she shook her head. "You know what, it's fine. Don't bother explaining because I'm no longer on board. I was already on the fence, but now I can see that this would just be a colossal waste of time and energy."

Without waiting for either of us to respond, my eyes followed her every movement as she turned on her heel and stormed out of the pub.

From behind me, I heard Finn groan in frustration. "Why did you do that?"

I spun around and shot him an incredulous look. "Me? I didn't do anything, but apparently you did." I walked across the pub and leaned my arms on the bar top across from him. "So tell me brother, what did she think I was supposedly on board for? Why was she here?"

There was a noticeable wince to her words as he replied sheepishly, "I hired her."

My brows shot upwards. "You what?"

"Just hear me out for a second," he said in a rush, letting out a long breath when I didn't immediately push back again. "Yesterday, after she caught us talking about needing to increase our profits and mentioned that we needed to use social media to draw in new customers, her words stuck in my head for the rest of the day. Because she was right. We've never really put efforts into marketing, and have relied on word of mouth in the neighborhood, but we both know that's not going to work much longer."

I didn't disagree, but I also didn't appreciate him making a large decision like this on his own. "So you hired her to what?" I asked, raking my fingers through my hair. "Put together some social media accounts for the pub? Is she qualified for that?"

"She recently quit her job in Los Angeles to be a content creator full-time, so I'd think she knows a lot about what it takes to build a brand online," he replied. "And if she can do that for herself, she can do it for a business."

"You sound confident."

"I think it'll work," he affirmed before shrugging. "And even if it doesn't bring in as many customers as we want, at least we'll get something out of it. A new website and a larger online presence."

"There's only one problem," I drawled, leaning back and nodding towards the side door. "Sadie doesn't seem to want to work with us anymore."

"That's just a setback," he said, waving me off as though it wasn't an issue. "Besides, you're going to go up there and beg her to reconsider."

I nearly laughed, thinking he was joking, but all too quickly I realized he was dead serious. "And why can't you do that?" I asked. "After all, this whole thing was your idea."

"Because I have to prep to open," he replied easily. "Plus, you know I'm right about this, and you're the one that needs to show her you believe she'll be able to help our business. If you do that, I think she'll forget about this whole mess."

I closed my eyes and sighed. "Fine. But don't blame me if I make this a thousand times worse."

"Honestly, I would say that's impossible, but having known you for thirty-one years, it definitely is." He reached over the bar top and clapped me on the shoulder. "Just don't fuck it up, man."

***

Twenty minutes later, after I figured out what I wanted to say and had psyched myself up to go toe to toe with the strong-headed woman upstairs, I climbed the stairs to her apartment. I raised my hand to knock, but instead of meeting the door, my knuckles hit the air. Sadie had pulled the door open and looked to be on her way out, having switched out her quirky, professional clothes for workout gear, but froze when she saw me standing there.

Her brows lifted, seemingly unimpressed. "What are you doing here?"

I tried to offer her a smile, but I was sure it came across as forced. "Finn told me he'd offered you a job with us yesterday."

"He did," she replied. "He also said that you were on board with giving me free reign of marketing the pub, yet it was clear you didn't know what the hell was going on when I was downstairs half an hour ago."

"I didn't," I admitted, "until he explained it to me. And I do think it's worth a try. We need to do something different, and you... you're different." My gaze drifted past her to see what she'd done to the apartment since the last time I'd been here. Which apparently had been a lot. "Look what you've done to just the apartment. You've transformed it into a place that suits you, and it's clear you have a creative eye. And my brother assured me you know your way around social media."

I could see her resolve wavering. "He would be correct."

"So why not help us out? I asked. "I get that you're upset with my brother—trust me, it's a feeling I have all too often—but are you really going to give up on this opportunity just because he was thinking on the fly and listening to his gut about this whole thing?"

"Well..."

"Because let me tell you this. While my brother may be impulsive, he doesn't necessarily do things blindly. He believes in you. We believe that you can help us, and I think you know you can too."

Her eyes met mine, assessing my expression. Scrutinizing. And I did nothing, holding my breath as I stood still.

Eventually, she broke and rolled her eyes. "Even though you laid it on a bit thick, I get what you're trying to say," she said. "So, yeah, I'll help you guys out. But know this—while I want your opinions and thoughts, I get to make the final calls. Clear?"

"Crystal," I affirmed.

"Good," she said. "Then just don't make me regret giving you both a second chance."

a/n: so, Sadie is now working with the brothers, how do you think THAT will go?

Remember to leave your thoughts in the comments and vote!