Nathan held out a hand to Ryan.
“Congratulations, Carter.”
Ryan shook it.
“Thank you, sir.”
Nathan looked at me.
“We’re starting the command reception in twenty.”
Ryan’s brow creased.
“The command reception?”
“Yes.”
He glanced between us.
Then the realization landed.
“You’re invited to that?”
I almost laughed.
Disbelief still colored his voice.
Not because the reception was special.
Because I was.
Nathan answered before I could.
“She’s one of the reasons we’re having it.”
The world seemed to stop again.
I whipped toward him.
“Nathan.”
But Ryan had heard.
So had my parents.
Ryan’s face drained of color.
“What does that mean?”
Nathan looked at me.
Waiting for permission.
He would say nothing I didn’t allow.
That was something my family had never understood about respect.
It wasn’t volume.
It wasn’t status.
Sometimes respect was just handing another person control over their own story.
I shook my head.
“Later.”
Ryan stared at me.
For once, I saw no arrogance.
Only a question.
The same question he had thrown at me for years without ever truly wanting the answer.
Who are you?
This time, I answered differently.
“Come to the reception.”
His eyebrows rose.
“Am I allowed?”
I reached into my purse.
Took out the folded cream invitation.
And pressed it into his hand.
At the bottom were the words:
CAPT. EMILY CARTER + ONE GUEST.
“I had already put your name down.”
