er 259: Asher
Rooster leans against the frame of Studio 3 like he owns the damn building. Casual. Relaxed. Like this isn’t completely unhinged.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I ask, low and sharp.
He lifts one hand in surrender, the other still jammed in the pocket of his jacket. His mouth pulls into a lazy smile.
“Listen,” he says. “Penny did something.”
My chest tightens.
He holds up both hands now, quickly. “Nothing bad. I mean–it’s Penny. So it’s insanely thought–out, emotional, and dramatic as hell.”
That tracks.
“She wanted to surprise you. But midway through it, she panicked.”
“Why?”
Rooster tilts his head and gestures to the studio door. “Because she realized who you are, and what surprises do to a guy like you. Her words were, What if he walks in and thinks it’s an ambush and shoots everyone in there?”
I stare at him.
He grins. “And honestly? She’s not exactly wrong.”
“I’m not carrying,” I mutter.
“I know,” he says. “I know. But Penny doesn’t always remember that your brain doesn’t have an off switch. So she begged me to intercept you and make sure you came in without, you know… deckin‘ anyone.”
My pulse is still off. I hate this. The unknown. The darkness behind the door. The instinctive tension coiled in my spine like something’s about to explode. I think of a thousand possible scenarios–training burns them into my head before I can stop them:
Someone’s hurt.
This is a trap.
The Vultures came back.
Penny’s missing.
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Chapter 259: Asher
There’s a body in there.
It’s a joke.
It’s a setup.
She’s saying goodbye.
Rooster rolls his eyes like he sees the war in my head. “You good? Just–don’t punch anyone.”
I grind my jaw. “Not making any promises.”
Still, I move forward.
The doorknob is cool beneath my hand. I push it open slowly.
It’s pitch black inside.
But darkness isn’t a problem for me.
In the Navy, you learn to see without your eyes. My senses fan out instantly, trained and precise. I feel the shift in air. The heat of breath. I hear the soft scuff of shoes, a stifled laugh in the corner. There are people -at least a dozen. Maybe twenty.
They’re quiet.
But I’m quieter.
Rooster’s voice comes from behind me, a lazy whisper. “Yeah, I know. She thought she was being clever. Humor her.”
And then-
The lights snap on.
“SURPRISE!”
I flinch, barely. Years of discipline keep my hands from twitching toward weapons I’m not even carrying.
The room is… full.
Black balloons line the walls and ceiling, trailing down on curling strings. There are folding chairs in a circle, a table in the center stacked with every kind of food imaginable, and a massive chocolate cake with a silver 2 and 4 candle jabbed into it at slightly crooked angles.
There are people. My people.
Boomer waves from the food table, already stuffing something in his mouth. Mila beside him, grinning like
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she orchestrated a military op. Anna’s waving both arms like she’s in an airfield. Rooster obviously. Max too, dressed in camo pants and a tactical vest way too big for him. I spot some of the new guys from base near the window, half–laughing, half–looking like they’re not sure if I’m going to kill them for this.
Even my parents are here. And Penny’s. Standing side by side. Chatting. Like it’s normal.
I blink–and catch Tyler in the corner. Even he’s here? Looking awkward as hell. Huh.
But then-
I see her.
And nothing else matters.
Penny stands near the middle of the room. There’s a nervous little crease in her brow, like she’s still not sure if this was the best or worst idea of her life. She’s waiting. Watching me. Eyes locked on mine.
She’s not in a costume this time. Not in rehearsal gear. Just soft jeans and a fitted top, hair half–up, skin glowing from rehearsal and anxiety.
And then my face splits into a grin before I even know I’m doing it.
The tightness in my shoulders unwinds all at once. The storm in my head clears, and there’s only one thought left:
This girl.
I start walking, slow, deliberate, like I’ve been moving through war zones just to get here. The crowd blurs around her. The cake, the lights, the voices–they all fade.
I reach her.
And before I can say a word, she raises her eyebrows and says, “So… surprise?”
I shake my head, jaw tight, lips curved. “You’re insane.”
“But happy insane?”
I grab her waist, pull her against me, and kiss her like that was the answer.
Behind us, someone whistles. Someone else yells “Awww!” and Rooster mutters, “Called it.”
But I don’t care. I kiss her just a little more, pulling away when I remember that her parents are probably watching, and hold her hand as I look around the room.
Now that I’m actually taking it all in–really looking at the chaos around me—I start to catch the details.
Everyone’s in some kind of gear. Not like Halloween costume gear, but like… tactical. Camouflage pants,
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combat boots, aviator sunglasses inside (Max), full–blown bulletproof vests that are definitely not regulation. Mila’s wearing face paint. Anna has dog tags clinking against a glittery tank top. Even Boomer’s in his old uniform pants and a black shirt tight enough to show off his arms like a walking recruitment poster. Someone–probably Rooster- handed out patches and belts and fake radios to complete the look.
It’s like a SEAL team crashed a costume party and decided to stay.
And the decorations?
All black. Jet black streamers twisted across the mirrors, balloons floating near the ceiling like little warning signs. There’s a massive poster that says OPERATION: ASHER 2-4 with a skull on it. Classy. But what really gets me are the cardboard cutouts.
They’re everywhere.
In every corner, stuck behind tables and lurking behind chairs, are characters with one thing in common they all look completely done with life.
Anger from Inside Out, arms crossed and teeth bared.
The Grinch, mid–sneer.
Squidward.
–
Batman.
The grumpy old man from that balloon house movie.
Even Eeyore made the guest list.
I spot a sign taped to a chair that reads: Reserved for Asher’s Emotional Support Mood.
1 blink. Then I grin.
And then I laugh.
1
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Like, actually laugh loud and sudden, from the gut because it’s so stupid and specific and weird and over–the–top. But it’s also… weirdly perfect.
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