Gemma stood alone, with her arms wrapped around her middle, watching Connor toss a tennis ball to Bear. Her chin tucked close to her chest, her huddled posture, and the uncertainty in her expression begged for comfort or reassurance. He knew exactly how she felt, facing the impending end of a career, feeling old among the starry-eyed, fresh-faced newbies. She met his gaze. The desire to wrap his arms around her, draw her into his strength, and hold her tight burned through his muscles. His hands curled into fists as he fought the sensation. He'd say his piece and then walk away. “This is some spread.” He picked up a sandwich. "Have you eaten?" "I figured I'd make sure the crew had enough first before I dug in." She studied him with wary eyes. "I don't want to cause problems between you and Jocelyn. I'll leave if you want me to go." Despite how their relationship ended, he couldn't toss her out knowing she didn't have a job. He'd figure out a way to deal with seeing her on a daily basis.
