Chapter 45

45

SARAH

D ean and my father stared each other down, the tension between them palpable. I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest. The last thing I expected was for Dean to stand up to my father like this. It made me want to leap into his arms, kiss him, and ask him to carry me down the runway into the sunset. But I'd have to be batshit crazy to kiss Dean in front of my father.

Although it would shut him up nicely.

The two of them looked menacing. My father was older but a little bigger in the weight department than Dean. But Dean had the benefit of youth and muscles. The last thing I wanted to see was the two of them coming to blows. The tension crackled through the air. No one dared move. It was like watching two pissed dogs facing off. A single twitch and the other would attack.

"Dad—"

"I'm not talking to you anymore," Dad growled. "Seems someone else thinks he gets an opinion in how I raise my daughter."

"I have an opinion on how you treat one of my students," Dean corrected.

"Dean, you should mind your own business," my father said, his voice low and dangerous. "This does not concern you."

Dean didn't bend. "You made it by business when you assigned me to Sarah. And you asked me to watch out for her for a reason, Mo. As her mentor, I have an insider's view into how well she's doing, and you're being unreasonable. She's still fresh. Her numbers will improve. She's top of her class right now."

"That's the minimum standard for a Thomas," my father seethed. "Now back off."

Dean gritted his teeth, his temper flaring. I could feel the protective energy radiating off him. A kiss and a sunset would be pretty good right about now, I thought. Maybe I could live without flying. Maybe Dean was enough.

"You put me in charge of her training because you trusted me," Dean said in a low voice. "Are you telling me that's different now? My opinion means nothing anymore?"

"Maybe you're not as capable as I thought you were," he retorted.

My stomach dropped. I couldn't imagine them actually fighting.

"Dad, please," I said. "Dean—I mean Ryker—is a good teacher. I'll work harder."

"You're doing well," Dean said. "No one else is doing better than you."

His words were just what I needed to hear after the teardown by my father. I found myself smiling.

"Thank you," I murmured.

My father looked back and forth between us, his eyes narrowing. My heart dropped when I realized he saw more than he should have. I hadn't meant to use Dean's name. I shouldn't have smiled at Dean.

Shit .

I glanced at Dean and saw the same guilty expression on his face. We were busted. It was time to do some damage control.

"What's going on here?" Dad asked. It wasn't really a question. The accusation was clear.

I shrugged, trying to look innocent. "What do you mean? I'm training."

Dean, on the other hand, had gone silent, his jaw clenched. He looked down at his feet. The guilt was coming off him in waves. I knew how much Dean respected my father. I felt bad for putting him in this position. He wanted to end this in London because he was worried this would happen.

And now it was.

My father's suspicion seemed to deepen. "I want your records and reports from London. Specifically, your room and board."

I turned pink, my stomach dropping. "Excuse me?"

"Now," Dad insisted, glaring at Dean. "Get me the information immediately. That's an order."

When Dean didn't move a muscle, the realization dawned on my father's face. He came to the conclusion on his own, piecing together our defensiveness and interactions. His eyes blazed with anger. I had never felt so ashamed.

"So, you stayed together," he spat. "Something is going on between you two."

A cold chill ran down my spine. This was bad. Very bad.

"Why don't we talk over there?" Dean suggested.

I had no idea if my father would actually listen or not. I knew how my father hated anyone knowing his perfect family had some imperfections. We had always been told to smile and save our drama for home. We weren't supposed to act up, cry, or disobey. It would make my father look bad if he couldn't keep his own daughters in line.

But thankfully, he stomped away, not waiting to see if we followed.

"Don't admit to anything," Dean whispered so low I almost didn't hear him. "He doesn't know for sure. He's guessing."

I nodded with understanding but said nothing. We found our way behind the hangar, out of sight from everyone else. Dean stood and faced my father, his chin raised in defiance. I took another deep breath and waited to see what happened next.

My father turned his attention to me. His eyes locked on mine. I braced myself for what I knew was going to be very, very bad.

"I expected better than this, Sarah! Sleeping your way up the chain of command? You're risking my reputation and not performing as Uncle Sam expects after all that's been invested in you."

His words cut deep. It was worse than any other punishment. I would rather be in a fistfight with one hand tied behind my back than have to listen to my father tell me how disappointed he was in me. It hurt.

I fought back the tears that were threatening to fall. That was something else I learned growing up with the general. You didn't cry unless you had a damn good reason to. This would not be seen as a good reason.

Dean stepped in between us, trying to calm things down. "Mo, listen?—"

But my father wasn't listening. He wound back and punched Dean in the jaw. Dean stumbled backward. I rushed to brace him, my heart breaking.

"You and me? We're done," Dad said to Dean, his voice icy. Then he turned to me, his glare fierce. "And you. Don't come home during your next break."

He marched away, leaving me standing there, shattered.

Dean straightened, rubbing his jaw. "Sarah, I?—"

"It's okay," I said, my voice trembling. "I'll be fine."

"I'm sorry, Sarah. I didn't mean for this to happen."

"It's not your fault," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. "I made my choices too. Stay here. I'm going to talk to him. Alone."

Dean sighed, running a hand through his hair. I rushed off and left him.

"Dad, stop," I said.

He didn't stop walking. I stepped in front of him, holding out my hand. "I'm doing my best, Dad. You know that. I don't know what report you're reading, but I'm at the top of the class."

"You're distracted, and it's affecting your performance. You need to get your priorities straight."

My anger flared. "I am focused! Just because I'm not perfect doesn't mean I'm not trying."

Mo's eyes narrowed. "This is about Dean, isn't it? He's distracting you."

I took a deep breath, fighting to keep my voice steady. "Dean isn't the problem. You are. You're the one who's never satisfied, no matter how hard I try. I'm busting my ass and I'm doing very well. I don't know why you can't see that. I haven't made any mistakes."

"You don't think sleeping with your superior officer is a mistake?" he shot back. "I should go back there and rip his nuts off. Hang them off my rearview mirror."

"Dad, it isn't what you think," I said without actually admitting to anything. "Why can't you acknowledge I'm doing well? To everyone but you, I'm the best in my group. I'm not doing anything to embarrass you or the family name."

He scoffed, shaking his head. "It's not about the family name, it's about integrity. You're talented, Sarah, but talent doesn't mean shit if you can't maintain a professional line or follow protocol. We have rules for a reason."

"Dad, there's nothing unprofessional about two adults having?—"

His eyes flashed dangerously. "Stop. This is the military. You could both be court-martialed for this."

"Only if there's proof," I interrupted quickly.

A hurt look crossed his face. "Is that what you've become? Someone who sneaks around in the shadows, living a lie every moment of every day, just to save her own skin?"

His words were like daggers in my heart. I faltered, falling silent.

"Sarah, I raised you to take responsibility for your actions. To be the kind of officer that leads by example. What happened to that girl?"

"Dad, that girl grew up. And she realized that things aren't always black and white."

His eyes bored into mine, a myriad of emotions reflecting back at me. There was plenty of disappointment, but above all was pain. "You're throwing away everything we worked for," he said, a bitter note creeping into his voice. "I'm not so foolish to believe women aren't held to different standards in the military. Serious women know they have to fight that stereotype by watching their every move. You can't afford even a little gossip."

I rolled my eyes. "There is no gossip, and it's people like you that make it difficult for women to avoid those stereotypes. How dare you imply I'm sleeping my way to the top? That's disgusting and not true. Shame on you for even suggesting it. My skills in the air got me here, not my skills in the sack."

His expression hardened further. "You will not speak to me that way, Sarah. You're my daughter, and you will respect me."

Tears prickled at the corners of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. "I do respect you, Dad. But you need to understand that I'm my own person. I need to make my own choices. If I make a mistake, that's on me. And only me. You made lots of mistakes. Don't act like you were born perfect."

He stared at me for a long moment, his face unreadable. Slowly, he nodded. "You're right," he conceded, his voice low and gruff. "I wasn't born perfect. No one was. But that doesn't mean you should make the same mistakes I did, Sarah. I worked my ass off to get where I am. I paved the way for you. You can walk that path, but you have to carry that weight. I laid it out and you are screwing it up."

I crossed my arms over my chest defensively. "And how do you know it's a mistake? Because you say so? Because it's not the path you would have chosen for me?"

"No," he sighed deeply, a tired note in his voice. "Because it's a path that could cost you everything you've worked hard for."

My eyes narrowed. "Just because our paths aren't the same, because I'm not doing exactly what you think I should do, it doesn't mean I'm wrong."

"You are wrong, and I want no part of the mistakes you are making."

He turned and walked away, leaving me to stare after him. There was nothing more to say. He wasn't going to hear me. It was over.

I turned around and saw Dean waiting for me. He was watching us, but I was glad he stayed back. That had to happen between my father and me. I didn't want to make things worse for Dean's relationship with my dad. That was a whole other situation to deal with.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice soft. "Should I sleep with one eye open?"

I shook my head, feeling the tears burning my eyes. "He's still furious. He thinks you're distracting me."

Dean pulled me into his arms, holding me tightly. I let myself accept his comfort for a brief few seconds before I pulled back. We were still on base, and even if my father knew, our secret still couldn't get around.