Page 5 of Cole

Cole remembered the feeling of pure joy when learning to fly. Ten years and two combat tours had tempered his own enthusiasm into something quieter but no less deep.

"Beautiful morning," Timothy called as Cole climbed down from the cockpit.

"Every morning's beautiful when you're flying." Cole secured the plane, movements automatic after countless repetitions. "How's the Bell 407 treating you?"

"Like a dream. Though she handles differently from what I'm used to." Timothy fell into step beside him as they headed for the hangar. "Justice wanted me to remind you she needs to inspect 927 before your next flight. Something about updated maintenance protocols."

Cole nodded. Justice Marcetti ran the tightest ship he'd ever seen when it came to aircraft inspection. She was raised in the area and co-owned an auto mechanics shop with her dad. She’d also been trained and certified in aircraft inspections and worked on a continuing contract with LSIMT. He respected that kind of dedication.

The hangar doors stood open, revealing the gleaming hull of the Bell helicopter and Justice's legs sticking out from beneath it. Her husband Tyler leaned against a workbench nearby, coffee mug in hand. He was another coworker, or Keeper, as they were known. It was a mantle the LSI employees adopted, reminiscent of the lighthouse keepers who guided the lost out of danger.

"Morning, Cole," Tyler called with a chin lift. "Just stopped by to steal my wife for lunch later. If she remembers what lunch is."

"I heard that," Justice's muffled voice came from under the helicopter. She slid out on the mechanic's creeper, grease smudged across one cheek, but eyes sharp as ever. "And I don't forget meals. I strategically delay them."

Tyler crossed to her, pulling a clean rag from his pocket to wipe the grease from her face with the kind of casual intimacy that spoke of shared affection. "Sure you do, baby. That's why I found you eating crackers for dinner three nights ago."

"Crackers are food," she protested, but leaned into Tyler’s touch.

Cole looked away, struck by an unexpected pang of... emptiness? He wasn't sure how to label the emotion that hit him at strange times. Well, not really strange, considering it happened whenever he saw some of the other Keepers with their significant others. He'd had chances over the years with a couple of relationships that might have become something more if he'd let them. But somehow it never seemed like the right time or the right person.

He’d seen how a good relationship could make every day better. His parents had offered that vision of family. And he’d always assumed it would come to him too… meet someone, click in a way that superseded all others, and then fall in love. Get married, have children. He wanted it all, but so far, he’d yet to meet someone he wanted to spend his life with.

"This bird and your Bell are good to go. I need to inspect the one you were just in, but I'll get to that later in the week if that's okay?" Justice asked, pulling him from his thoughts.

"Shouldn't be a problem," Cole said. "Thanks for the paperwork. I'll get this filed with Mary."

Mary Smithwick was LSIMT's competent and ever-efficient office manager. Cole not only kept a copy of the aircraft's inspection paperwork inside each plane or helicopter, but he also ensured Mary had the documentation.

They walked together toward the main compound, conversation flowing easily about flight plans and equipment needs. His world was now filled with good people doing necessary work, using their skills to make a difference. No more combat zones, no more choosing between bad and worse options. Just clean, clear missions with right and wrong drawn in sharp lines.

The compound's main building came into view, its above-ground construction blending seamlessly with the environment, giving no hint of the rooms below that housed their work areas, equipment, weapons, gym, locker rooms, and kitchenette.

"Hey, Cole." Timothy jogged to catch up. The former Army Ranger moved with the controlled grace of a man who'd spent years in combat zones. "Mind if I pick your brain about mountain flying sometime? I know the theory, but these crosswinds are a different beast."

Cole studied the other Keeper with new respect. Timothy had only recently added his pilot's license to an already impressive résumé, but the man approached flying with the same intensity he'd probably brought to special ops missions. "Tell you what—we'll take the Cessna up tomorrow afternoon. I'll show you some tricks for reading the thermals off these ridges."

Timothy nodded, all business now. "Appreciate it. Logan mentioned we might need two pilots for the upcoming surveillance rotation. I want to make sure I'm ready."

"You will be," Cole said simply. Just like all the Keepers, he shared knowledge freely, understanding that everyone's competence made the whole team stronger.

As they entered the building, Cole felt that settling sensation again. The rightness. He'd flown over half the world, seen sunrises from cockpits in more countries than he could count. But something about Montana mornings, this team, and this purpose felt like the flight path he'd been searching for all along.

His phone buzzed. A text from his sister Kate back in North Dakota. Thank you for Dylan's birthday present. He said it was the best airplane model kit he'd ever seen.

He smiled, typing back. Tell him I'm glad he likes it.

You doing okay?

I'm good. You and yours?

He grinned when she replied with a thumbs-up emoji.

The morning sun climbed higher, bathing the compound in warmth and light. This was his life now. Not the one he'd planned as a farm kid in North Dakota and not the one he'd built as an Army pilot, but something new. Something that honored everything his father had taught him while pointing toward a future he was finally ready to embrace.

4

Cole pushed through the main compound doors, giving his eyes a chance to become accustomed to the less sun-bright interior. The ranch-style building looked ordinary enough from the outside, but he never tired of what waited below. He made his way to the elevator, pressed his thumb onto the scanner, and leaned forward for the retinal scan. The doors slid open with a quiet hiss.