The heat flares in my chest. “A hunch? You think Iimaginedgetting shot at? You think I made up my bodyguard bleeding out in the dirt? Or those bastards dragged a dead woman through the streets?”
“I think you’ve been through enough,” he explains, quieter now, but the restraint in his voice is worse than shouting. “And I’m not lettingyouwalk back into that.”
“You’re notlettingme?”
“Christ, Reese. Don’t start.” He exhales through his nose, eyes closing and face scrunching with annoyance. “For once. Please. Do as you’re told.”
“As I’m told?” I don’t know whether it’s being told ‘no’ or the man who is telling me, but my attitude goes from zero to supersonic in a split second. “No.Youdon’t get to tell mewhat to do”—I jam my finger into his rock-hard chest—“becauseyougave up that right a long fucking time ago.”
“Goddamn it, Reese!” His voice billows loud enough to garner the attention of the rest of the tent. He wraps his fingers around my wrist, squeezing tightly. Not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to remind me which of us hasalwaysbeen in control. “Don’t,” he warns tightly. “This isn’t about us.”
“The fuck it isn’t.” Almost every word between us since he stepped into the operations hub has been tiptoeing around this moment.
He pulls my hand away from his chest, lets go of my wrist, and grits, “This is about protecting you.”
“No, Chris…” I shake my head and let out a heavy, exasperated sigh. “This is aboutyourunning andyourguilt.” His expression shifts, and I know instantly that I’ve crawled under his skin and hit a nerve.
His gaze burns through me so hot that I can feel my skin flushing. Without breaking eye contact with me, he barks, “Out! Everyone, get the fuck out!”
The canvas still trembles with the echo of Hawk’s voice, the weight of his command sending the others scattering like startled birds. Gunnar, Damon, and Jagger all drop what they’re doing and hastily make their way outside. The flap swings violently in the wind after they disappear into the morning haze, leaving me alone with the man who used to own every piece of me.
He’s still too close. His angered breaths waft over my face, and my heart—traitorous, pathetic thing—starts racing likeI’m still twenty-two and falling in love with him all over again.
“I left,” he shouts suddenly, his voice cracking. “I know I fucking left. But I’m here now.”
His words crash over me, dredging up every emotion I’ve spent years trying to bury. The long, sleepless nights after he disappeared. The silence. The unanswered messages. The way my chest caved in when I finally gave in to the realization he wasn’t coming back.
He was the first person who reallysawme. The first to ask why I always had my Pentax slung around my throat or why I slept with the hallway light on. And then he vanished without a goodbye, just like the only other man in my life who ever mattered.
Something inside me breaks. My hands shove hard against his chest, slamming into the rock-solid muscle beneath his shirt. “You don’t get to play the protector now,” I spit. The venom in my voice shocks even me. “You don’t get to fly halfway around the world, come in here barking orders, and then pretend that you’re doing it for me.”
His gaze saddens, and he breaks our heated stare. “I don’t know how not to,” he confesses quietly, like it’s some kind of curse he’s lived with.
I scoff, crossing my arms tightly across my chest as if the movement could keep my heart from shattering again. “Don’t pretend you care.”
He moves faster than I can react, gripping my arms and yanking me against him, his breath hot against my cheeks. “I told you,” he rasps. “I care. I’ve always fucking cared. I left… but… I left for you. To save you from me.”
I stiffen. “I didn’t need to be savedfromyou.”
His eyes drop. Not in shame, but in agony. Like this confession is ripping something out of him. His hands tighten briefly before he whispers, “You did…”
I want to scream. Not because of what he’s saying, but because of what heisn’t. Because of what he still won’t tell me about why he left, even now, a decade later.
His eyes drop to my mouth, and for one wild, heart-stopping moment, I think he’s going to kiss me. Just for a second. But it’s enough to make my neck and cheeks flush and my knees momentarily weaken. His breath hitches. Mine stops entirely, waiting for him to do something I didn’t realize I’ve been aching for since he stormed back into my life.
And then, he lets me go. His arms drop to his sides, fists clenched. He won’t even look at me as he steps back. The warmth from his body disappears, replaced by the harsh chill of distance. He storms from the tent without another word, his boots pounding into the ground like gunfire.
“Chris,” I call after him, but it’s too late. He doesn’t stop.
I hate the way my throat tightens. I hate that my hands are still shaking. I hate that my body remembers every damn thing he ever made me feel—and that some traitorous part of me still wants him.
I know better. I know how long it took me to get over the heartbreak he left me with. He vanished into the darkness and took every good thing I had with him. And now hethinks he can come back and order me around like I’m still his. Like I’m something fragile who needs protecting. Like I didn’t survive every hell he left me in. I drag in a breath, blinking away the sting behind my eyes.
“Yeah… walk away,” I grumble, but my voice is too loud in the emptiness he left me in. “It’s what you’re good at.” From my locker, I grab my bulletproof vest and secure it tightly around me before slipping my camera strap around my neck.
Something happened in that village.Something big. And I’m not letting it get buried just because Christopher fucking Hawkins thinks he somehow has the right to decide what I can and cannot do again. He gave up that role when he walked out of my life. He doesn’t get to decide howthisends.
I glance toward the back of the tent, where Hawk just stitched it together. I slip my knife from my cargo pocket, slice the repair open with a clean motion, and crawl through the hole. After climbing to my feet, I still and listen for the guys. Surprisingly met with silence, I walk along the rear of the tent and peer my head around the corner to find it clear as well.
