Walking into the classroom is like colliding with a physical wall of sound and emotion as I push open the door. The alcohol is dimming the fatigue and making the whole scene I just walked in on look somewhat ridiculous.

Maybe it helps that I finished that Baileys on the bus ride back to campus but I’m not the least bit alarmed at the cadets squaring off in the classroom. It’ll make class more interesting at least.

Hopefully not interesting enough for the campus police to be called but you never know.

Ryan is carrying on about something tangentially related to the First Amendment and Jovi looks like she's ready to stab someone. Veer, who is usually in competition with me to see who can say the least, is apparently finally in the fray.

I drop my book onto the table with a bang and the entire classroom goes silent.

"Oh good, you're done," I say with a smile.

I'm no longer irritated about the shit show at the VA. I can’t bring myself to care about that right now. I’m not drunk but the alcohol has dulled the anger.

Plus, I’m not an asshole. I'm not going to take it out on them. The door opens behind me and I'm hit with a sense of warmth against my back. Deacon walks in, the heat from his body brushing up against mine as he moves around me to his usual position.

"Who wants to calmly tell me what this argument is about?"

Veer raises his hand. His jaw is set and I can practically see the pulse beating off his skin. "Ryan made a comment about people who protest during the national anthem, that they should leave the country. I strongly objected."

I fight the urge to smile at how disgruntled he sounds. It’s a nice change from the anger I’ve been nursing since I left the VA. This is much more controllable. "What is it that got you so fired up that you finally broke your rule against participating in the discussions?"

He frowns. "I don't have a rule. But when you have someone dominating the conversation, it's best to preserve oxygen."

I almost smile. That was a pretty good backhanded slap at Ryan. To be honest, Ryan has a lot of good points but he never bothers to just be quiet and let someone else get a word in edgewise. "Okay, but I find a generally good strategy is to figure out why something pissed you off before you just start spouting off. So take a minute and reflect, then explain why his comment got you so wound up."

It's moments like these that I miss the Army. I was only a junior NCO but damn it, I miss leading soldiers sometimes.

Ryan interjects and I can physically see everyone in the room suck in a collective breath. "I just don't see how you can live in this country and protest everything it's given you. If you don't like it, then leave it to the rest of us who appreciate the freedoms."

Veer opens his mouth to speak but I hold up one hand, stopping him. "Ryan, what's the oath you take when you commission?"

He frowns. "The oath?"

"Yeah, the actual text of it. Have you read it?"

He types something into his laptop and pauses, his eyes moving over the screen I cannot see. "So?"

I glance over at Deacon, who’s watching the exchange quietly. "Read it for us."

"I, state your name, having been appointed in the grade of second lieutenant in the Army of the United States, do solemnly swear, to support and defend the Constitution of the United States, against all enemies foreign and domestic."

"You can stop there," Deacon says. He leans forward. "Why do you think she had you read that?"

Jovi raises her hand. "Because we don't get to say what rights are enforceable or not. We just do our job."

I nod slowly. This is not the conversation I expected to have today—not at all—but to hell with it. Let's see where this goes. "Ryan, why does this get you so fired up?"

"Because it's bullshit. Athletes should not be protesting the nation that enables them to earn millions of dollars. They're not political figures. They play sports for a living."

"You didn't answer the question. Why does this get you so angry?"

The pen cap he's flicking on and off rapidly screeches to a halt. He stares at me for a long moment, saying nothing.

"Think about it. You're here, on one of the wealthiest college campuses in the country, and you're getting pissed off about something that has no effect on your daily life," I say quietly. "Why?"

The cap starts to flick again. "It's not right."

Deacon sets his notebook on the desk in front of him and sinks into his chair, leaning back casually. "When I first came back from my first deployment, I'd get super pissed really easily. I remember I was standing in line at the grocery store and some woman was complaining about the long wait time." His gaze never wavers from Ryan's face. "I didn't say anything. But I was livid. How dare she be pissed about something so trivial?"

I nod and finally sit in my normal chair at the end of the table. I love listening to his voice and right then, it’s so fucking smooth and calm. "I had a similar reaction for a while. Stupid things would set me off."

Veer is picking at his watch. "What does being irritated post-deployment have to do with some dumbass comment about who gets the right to protest in America?"

I hold my hand up to keep Ryan from jumping in. "Because leadership isn't about scoring points. When you get angry, no one is listening to you anymore. You lose credibility. So you can get angry. Or you can stay calm and figure out a better way around the obstacle that your emotions just erected." I glance between Veer and Ryan. "No one is perfect. But especially in today's environment, you have to be able to lead all of your soldiers, not just the ones you agree with. You call someone a dumbass and, well, it's a pretty safe bet you're not leading them anywhere any time soon."

I swallow and flip open my notebook, uncomfortable that all eyes are on me. Deacon clears his throat and leans forward. "So. Reactions to today's reading?"

I look up as Ryan starts talking about the insurgency in Syria. I don't hear what he's saying. Sitting there, gaze locked with Deacon’s, I'm reminded of all the ways things used to be good between us.

And wishing intently that it wasn't something as mild as fear keeping us apart.

It would be easy, so easy to fall into step with him after class. To walk with him to wherever he would lead. And slip into the dark comfort of his touch.

"You handled class brilliantly today, you know."

Kelsey isn’t leaving class as fast as she normally does. Something happened today in class. A connection. A moment. I'm not sure but something changed when she started taking charge of the argument between Ryan and Veer and Jovi.

It was like she was Sergeant Ryder again and was once more in her own element. It was a thing to behold watching her with her eyes bright, her shoulders back, her voice confident and sure.

Watching her control the room, watching her connect with each of those future officers, I was both aroused and enthralled. Not necessarily in that order.

Reminded of the confidence she’d lost somewhere in the desert sands. I've always been attracted to her strength. She had a way about her in uniform that was always just a little out of sync with everyone around us. She was energy.

A flame.

And I was drawn to her, despite every rule and norm that said it was a bad idea to get involved with someone at work.

She lets me fall into step next to her. I offer up a prayer of thanks for that simple milestone.

"Thanks. I'm just glad I didn't blow my stack at some of the comments myself."

"Yeah, Mr. First Amendment Ryan has some growing up to do."

She grins and it strikes me how much I miss seeing her smile. She doesn’t do it nearly enough anymore. I didn’t even notice until right then. "Don't we all?"

I make a noise, not missing the fact that she hasn't bailed on me yet. She's still walking with me.

That's a hell of a lot more progress than I'm used to with her. "Do you feel like an old man in there?"

She laughs and runs her hands over her breasts even as I realize what I’ve said.

"Nope, haven't felt like an old man recently." She elbows me gently. "But I get what you mean. I feel like…I feel ancient next to them."

I stop then and look at her. “Have you been drinking?” I can’t say what’s made me ask.

I fully expect her to tell me to go fuck myself but she doesn’t. “You ever have one of those days where you have to give up fighting because being pissed about it isn’t going to fix a damn thing?” She glances over my shoulder, avoiding my gaze. “I may have had a stiff one before class. I needed to relax.”

It hurts then, thinking that this brief moment between us is because she’s not fighting something. Warning bells go off in my head.

"Do you think things like this matter?" I step close, into her space. Needing to be closer. Afraid to let her go.

"Matter how?"

"Like, do you think any of them actually walked out of there thinking about things differently?"

She shifts her bag to her opposite shoulder. I notice the stiffness of her movement and the way she rolls her shoulder after the bag is transferred.

"I don't know." She stops walking and looks up at me. "But isn't that why we do any of this? We have to hope that what we do matters, right?"

Her question stops me in my tracks. "That isn't what you said when you first got back," I say quietly. “You said nothing we did matters. That everything was meaningless suffering.” I tip my chin, studying this woman who draws me to her with such fierce need. "What’s changed?"

She looks away, nudging dirt with her shoe. "I don't know. A lot of things."

It's an opening, a fleeting hope that maybe other things have changed, too.

But fear and history are a potent combination.

"What things?" Because I cannot help myself, I step closer to her. To the need to feel the heat from her body, the desire to capture her strength. The pure need to feel her body against mine just once more.

Her lips are there, just there. They part a little, the tiniest breadth of space, then close.

The barest distance separates us. If she offered the slightest encouragement, I could span the gap, brushing my lips against hers. Tasting her again after the longest drought.

"It's complicated," she whispers.

"Isn't it always?"

I move then, slowly, achingly slow, to slide a lock of hair out of her face. My thumb brushes her cheek. A current arcs between us, a living pulse of energy that binds me to her.

She doesn't look away. The noise of the crowd disappears around us, leaving only her and only me, standing impossibly close, immensely far apart.

My entire world tips beneath my feet when she doesn't move, doesn't pull away.

"Kels." Her name is a whisper. A plea.

A promise.

To do better this time. To somehow make things from the past right again or to beg her forgiveness for not being there when she needed me most.

Something shifts. I couldn't tell you what it is but for a moment, nothing more, she tips her cheek, nuzzling against my knuckles. She is smooth and soft and a thousand points of heat flash through my entire body from that single connection.

"I miss this," she whispers. But then she closes her eyes and the connection ends. She takes a single step backward.

"I spent a lot of time picking myself back up after…everything," she tells me. Her throat moves as she swallows, her neck tight and tense. She cups my cheek. "And as much as I wish it were otherwise, anything I may want to do with you could put everything I've built at risk." Her fingers slip away, my skin cool now where she touched. "I'm sorry."

She takes another step backward, and then she's gone, leaving me alone.

Empty.

Just like always.