“Skulls. Naked lady posters. Maybe a punching bag made from someone’s ribcage.”
That earns a rough, short laugh. “You think I’m a barbarian, sweetheart?”
I shrug, stepping farther inside. “I don’t know what I think.”
“Take the full tour. It’s not much, but it’s home.”
The kitchen’s barely a nook. Just a counter, a few cabinets, and a small table with two mismatched chairs. But everything is tidy. Organized. There’s even a bowl of fruit on the counter. Fresh fruit. That shouldn’t be sexy, but somehow, it is.
He watches me while I move around, arms crossed. The leather cut still clings to his frame like it belongs there. But there’s no smirk. No pressure. Just quiet patience.
“You live alone?” I ask softly.
“Yeah.”
“How long?”
“Long enough that the quiet stops feeling strange.”
I glance toward the hallway. “Bedroom?”
He nods. “Down there. One bed. One bath. You can take the bed. I’ll take the couch.”
Something inside me tugs at that. At the offer. At how easily he makes it, like he's not trying to work an angle.
“I’m not kicking you out of your own bed.”
“You’re not. I’m offering.”
The way he says it, calm and certain, makes my chest tighten.
He steps back and tips his head down the hall. “Come on. I’ll show you the room.”
I follow him through the narrow hallway. The bedroom is simple like the rest of the house. Low light, clean lines, no clutter. Just a bed, a dresser, a folded quilt at the foot like someone actually bothers to make it each morning.
It smells faintly like cedar and soap.
As he sets my bag down, my eyes catch on a shelf above the dresser. I drift toward it. There’s a black-and-white photo of a unit of Marines. Gritty faces, tired eyes, hard stares. A framed medal. A worn compass. A military patch withHAVOCstitched into the fabric.
“You were a Marine,” I say, not quite asking.
“Yeah.”
“Did you like it?”
He’s quiet for a moment, then steps beside me. Not touching. Just there.
“I was good at it.”
That’s not an answer. But I don’t push.
My finger drifts to the compass. The metal is dull with age.
“You lost someone?”
His jaw ticks. “Yeah.”
“Someone close?”
