My fingers curl against his chest, right over his heart.
"And that's terrifying. Because what if I let myself believe it? What if I let myself trust this—trust you—and it all falls apart?" My voice cracks. "What if I'm still just that kid you guys left behind, only this time it'll hurt so much worse because I know what I'm missing?"
The tear spilling over takes me by surprise, barely making it down my cheek before I’m swiping it away. The darkness and his deep, peaceful sleep no longer feel safe enough to hide.
God, when did I become this person? This soft, vulnerable thing who cries over sleeping soldiers?
"I should hate you for this," I whisper. "For making me feel things. For making me want more than what I've built. For making me..."
Care. Want. Need.
The words stick in my throat, too big and real to voice even in the safety of darkness.
Instead, I lean down and press my lips to his forehead—gentle, barely there. A ghost of a kiss that still somehow feels more intimate than any we've shared.
"This is such a bad idea."
I sink back into the spot next to him. Dabbling with temptation—with what could easily turn into addiction—if it hasn’t already.
Curling into a ball, I pull my knees to my chest. It’s not much of a barrier between us, but it’s something. A shred of distance I can cling to.
But not enough to stop me. Not enough to keep me from reaching out.
Sliding my hand over his stomach, I let it rest there, the tip of my index finger barely brushing his. The contact sends a quiet jolt through me, my skin tingling, my chest aching with words I can’t take back.
Even if he didn’t hear them.
Even if part of me wishes he had.
"Goodnight, soldier boy."
The moonlight catches on his dog tags again, glinting like a silent challenge, and I close my eyes against the sight. Against the want. Against everything I’m not ready to name.
But the darkness doesn’t save me. His presence fills the space between us, steady and unrelenting.
When his hand closes over mine, my eyes fly open. My breath skids to a stop, and my heart pounds so hard, I swear he has to hear it.
Breathing even, his eyes still peacefully closed, he drags my hand up his chest—his movements slow and deliberate, until he traps it under his, holding it steady over his heart.
Thu-thunk… thu-thunk… thu-thunk.
The rhythm reverberates through my palm, each beat grounding and overwhelming at once.
Tomorrow, I’ll be myself again. Sharp edges, steel spine, and careful distance.
But here, for now, in the quiet dark, it washes over me—his warmth, his heartbeat, the raw ache blooming in my chest—— I let myself feel it all.
Chapter Sixteen
Chance
The bonfire rages too big.The flames burn too bright. The infernos hiss too fucking loud.
At least, while I’m forced to watch Everett looking like one of those mountain men in Charlie’s romances walking straight off the page and into my business with one goal in mind—hitting on my woman.
Yeah, no. Let’s try that again.
Not my woman—Nick’s sister.
