It had become the ceremony.
An event coordinator hurried from the platform.
He wore a navy blazer despite the humid North Carolina heat.
“Captain Crawford?”
Crawford straightened.
Still holding Jessica.
“I’m handling a Stolen Valor situation.”
The coordinator blinked.
“During the ceremony?”
“She’s wearing the uniform without proper insignia.”
Jessica said, “He’s been drinking.”
The words cut cleanly across the silence.
Crawford’s face changed.
“You lying—”
“Your breath.”
“That’s coffee.”
“No.”
The staff sergeant nearby looked at Crawford again.
This time the recognition was obvious.
Crawford saw it.
His embarrassment turned into fury.
“You think you can accuse me of drinking on duty?”
Jessica replied, “I already did.”
The coordinator looked between them.
“Captain, maybe you should release her.”
Crawford ignored him.
Jessica could feel his pulse through the pressure of his hand.
Fast.
Too fast.
He had reached the point where retreat felt like humiliation.
