Water droplets pelted against the thick glass of the muted conference room as mother nature blocked out the morning sun.

"Emily should be here soon." Lance added a spoonful of sugar to his coffee.

Finn's mind played tricks on him, the splattered glass acting like a movie screen, playing out memories of the past. He'd hated the rain as a child, the inky days keeping him inside, away from the playground. Then he met Emily and the rain became his best friend.

Because of the rain, he'd had a reason to stop when he came across her riding home from Bridgetown on her bicycle, her sodden pale-yellow sundress clinging to her body. His offer had been accepted with a smile and he couldn't have sworn the sun came out. Little did he know she'd be kissing him in her driveway, the windows of his brother's old Ford truck steaming up around them. The kiss branded him as hers, unlocked something in him he could never return to the box in his heart.

The night he lost his virginity to her, rain had drummed on the boathouse roof, drowned out by the battering ram in his chest. Unbeknownst to him, she'd trekked miles in the downpour to keep their dinner date, because she had no way to contact him. The gesture broke the last barriers he put against her possibly caring about a loser like him. When she'd taken his hand and led them to his bed, Finn wasn't sure what he'd done to deserve her love, but he basked in it and gave her everything he had, body and soul.

That summer was the wettest on record and Finn relished the time hidden away. His one room apartment above the boathouse their love nest, their haven. The one place her family didn't think to look for her, the one place she was all his.

A spasm of heartache rattled the lock on the box he'd stuffed those feelings into eight years ago. Being near Emily but not with her was playing with his mind. When thoughts of what he'd lost, of her got past his defences, he found distraction in the first bar he could find on shore, then the bed of someone willing. He'd been in Washington for almost a week and hadn't frequented anything aside from the snobby restaurant Simon had insisted they go to that first night. The night he saw Emily again.

"She's usually never late. First one here in the morning." Lance slouched in his seat. "We joke she's married to her job."

"Bet her husband hates that." The remark slipped from Finn's lips.

Lance scoffed. "Emily's not married. My sister-in-law doesn't even date."

In Finn's gut, a knot loosened. It meant nothing. So she didn't date? Between her job, which she seemed to obsess over, and looking after her son it must be hard to find time to see other men.

Internally he scolded himself. Not other men. He wasn't one of the men on Emily's datable list. That ship had sailed.

"You should call her." Finn tapped on the side of his phone, bringing it to life.

Eight years ago, he hadn't had the money for a smart phone, or any phone for that matter. If he had, he would have called Emily the moment he read her note, begged her to talk to him. Instead, he raced to her house, banged on the door foolishly hoping the letter was another of her sister's sinister jokes. Mary had found him slumped on their doorstop and told him to go home.

How could he go home? He didn't know where Emily was.

Thunder crashed causing the conference room windows to rattle. Emily was out in this rain. Was she late because her boyfriend kept her in bed, worshiping her with kisses as Finn once had? Was her child sick?

Yes, Finn needed to forget about Emily Montgomery.

With a flick of his finger, Finn scrolled through the contacts on his phone, found the Team Patriot group chat and typed out a message: Boys night required.

As usual Max was the first to reply: Captain's orders?

The container in his chest throbbed, this time with guilt. Max hadn't played wingman to Finn's bar hops and night crawls since Angela came into the picture. The couple joined him, but the newest addition to his crew had Max smitten from day one. Finn went home with nameless women while Max shared his world with his girlfriend. Not that anyone but the team knew about their relationship.

"Ah, here she is." Lance interrupted when the conference room door opened. Finn hated how his pulse reacted to the anticipation of seeing her again, picked up speed like a plane taking off. Determined not to give in, he studied the lines of the woodgrain in the conference table.

"Sorry I'm late." Emily's strained voice plucked at the tight cords in his chest. His eyes betrayed him, glancing in her direction. She pushed a damp auburn strand behind her ear, and he bit the inside of his cheek to suppress a moan as want fissured through his core.

Desire quickly replaced with concern when he noticed her shivers. He shot to his feet. "You're wet."

Pale gray bored into him and all the oxygen in the room evaporated. Delicate fingers flew to the base of her neck, and Finn nails embedded themselves in his palms. If he didn't know better, he'd swear she was reliving the same memory as him. Her walking into the boathouse, hair damp and clothes soggy. Her changing into the one clean shirt he had, the material falling to mid-thigh. Her placing his hands on her hips after asking him to dance.

Them moving as one. In his kitchen. In his bed.

His rough tanned hand caressing her smooth pale skin. His name dripping from her lips.

"Finn." Her gaze fell to the floor, breaking the connection. "I had a flat tire."

"Hard to get a cab in this weather." Lance helped Emily out of her dripping coat and Finn cursed his feet for not moving.

Emily clutched a large leather satchel to her chest as she maneuvered along the edge of the table. "Didn't try. I walked."

"You should have called George." Lance pulled out a chair for her.

She shook her head, another strand breaking free of the tight knot she locked her hair in today. "That wouldn't be appropriate."

"Nonsense." Lance put a hand on her shoulder. "He works for the company now, there would be no conflict of interest. You could catch a cold in this dreadful weather."

"Lance is right." Finn's voice shocked even him.

Her eyes flashed to him and flew away even faster. Laptop open, she pressed buttons while Lance settled in beside her.

"Really, I'm fine. Let's get down to work shall we?" She stared at the screen. "Petty Officer Wainwright, we'd like to go over some discrepancies between your account of the accident and those of Seaman Randal."

Something was different about Emily today. Yesterday she'd been within arms reach, so close the exquisite lavender scent he only associated with her tickling his nose. Now she focused on her laptop, never meeting his eyes, and sat as far away as was physically possible. Straight shoulders and tight lips turned her soft curves to sharp angles.

Worse, the warmth in her voice had disappeared. At one point he'd had the impression there was something she wanted to say to him. But Lance had ushered him out of the room to interview Max and he'd been only too happy to escape. Now, aside from how she's said his name upon entering the room, she was emotionless, speaking in short, clipped questions. Gone was the commentary, the concern.

Emily was all business.

He'd seen evidence of her determination that summer. When Emily Montgomery put her mind to something, there was no stopping her. Relentless in her mission to prove they belonged together, she'd rearranged her life to be with him. At first, escaping from the watchful eye of her father and sister, coordinating her schedule around his shifts at the Waterfront Bar and Grill. She'd given up her room in residence and put down a deposit on an apartment to prove life was full of compromise and nothing would keep her from him.

Yet, through all of that she'd maintained her warmth, her kindness. The rental agent had been charmed by her, earning them a discount on their monthly bill. Simon adored her and shifted Finn's hours so they could watch fireworks together on the fourth of July. She'd held his hand proudly as they strolled through the town, christening each corner, each bench with their kisses.

"To the best of your recollection, Lieutenant Casey had no chance for recovery once the helicopter lost altitude?" Emily asked.

The four-in-hand tie pressed against his Adam's apple and the starched material of his shirt scrapped against his elbow as he crossed his arms. "No ma'am."

Emily flinched. At last, a reaction. But the knots in his stomach only intensified. In the Navy, ma'am was a sign of respect, a recognition of rank. Yet the term, as it had yesterday, inflicted pain. He couldn't understand why, beyond the fact she wasn't in the military.

"She responded to the situation in a timely manner?"

In a timely manner. His blood boiled under his skin. Lieutenant Casey had wrestled with that bird, gaining the inch of altitude they needed not to nosedive into the ocean. Without her, if it had been any other pilot, he doubted any of them would be alive today to sit in this overpriced lawyer's office and answer these endless questions.

"Yes-" The swallowed Ma'am tasted bitter. He searched for the right words, any words. "-Lieutenant Casey acted bravely under duress."

He dared Emily to deny his statement. He might have been a nobody when they were together, but almost a decade later he'd proven himself. Now he had people, a team who respected him, took his word at face value. The Navy trusted him.

This time, her gaze met his and held it. "I believe you." The hard line of her chin softened, and her mouth eased into a gentle curve. "I'm sure your friend did her best in a deplorable situation."

The fire in Finn's chest dampened and the pressure in his head eased. Emily's grey eyes offered honesty rimmed with something else he couldn't put his finger on. Whatever it was, the emotion burrowed into his skin and settled below his heart.

"I know this is difficult, reliving one of the worst days of your life."

The crash cast sleep away, Angela's unconscious face haunting him when he tried to close his eyes. He'd never forget or forgive himself for manipulating her onto that helicopter. He'd done it for Max, wanting his friend to have what he himself could never achieve. They'd been deliriously happy. Max's goofy grin a permanent fixture until they fought that evening.

His sole purpose had been to bring them together again. Give Max a chance to explain, beg for another chance. If he hadn't demanded she be on that flight, Angela would be alive today. And Max...

"Please understand." Emily's voice dragged him out of the watery recriminations. "Even the smallest fact, the most insignificant detail is important to the Lieutenant's case." The tips of her fingers turned white where they pressed into the wood of the table. "You'd do anything to help those you care for, right?"

The statement sliced through his heart. Everyone he cared for. He'd cared for Emily and not been found worthy. He'd cared for Max and ruined his life. He'd cared for Casey and now she was locked in a stockage, charged with potential manslaughter.

His caring turned to the world around him into ash.