Taking hold of his chin, I tip his head back up. “El, you know there’s nothing wrong with how you are, right? The only thing that’s wrong is you didn’t get the support you needed growing up.”
He chews on the inside of his cheek, his eyes full of worry. And I hate that I put that there.
“I’m glad you’re taking the step to speak to someone about it. Even if it just gives you some validation, then you can start finding the tools to help you with the things you struggle with and get a better understanding. Sometimes being aware of it can take away the element of self-punishment.”
“That makes sense.”
I brush my thumb over his lower lip. “I’m proud of you.”
His mouth twitches in a small smile. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, I am. I can only imagine how exhausting it’s been for you, both mentally and emotionally, over the years. And then I turn up, run my big mouth, and you just… take it all in your stride. You didn’t hesitate to reach out to someone, and that takes immense bravery. You should be proud of yourself too.”
The tops of his cheeks flush, and when he lowers his head this time, I let him. I kiss his forehead and wrap my hands around his waist, resting them on the base of his spine.
“Are we done talking about me? Can we make out now?” he asks, a shy smile playing on his lips.
I grin. “Thought you’d never ask.”
“How much further?” Jason asks through the earpiece.
“Just over this peak,” Zed replies.
Sweat pours down the back of my neck as I crawl through the sand. It’s the middle of the night, and the dry heat is still ridiculous. We’ve been monitoring our target via drones for three days now, and tonight is when we strike. We’re in the middle of the desert, and the only way I’m able to see is through the night-vision goggles attached to my helmet.
We make our way up the dune, keeping low to the ground. When we reach the edge, I take a stealthy glance over the edge, only our target isn’t there. Instead, there’s a midnight-blue Jeepat the bottom of the pit, engulfed in flames.
“Fuck,” Jason mutters, but I tune them out. I need to get a better look. I disable the night vision to get a clearer look, and my heart stops cold the second I see the face of the person in the driver’s seat, screaming.
“Elliot!” I shout, but the words are silent. I try to shout again, but nothing comes out. I scramble to my feet, unable to get traction due to the shifting sand beneath my boots as I launch myself over the edge and run down into the pit toward the vehicle, my weapon still in hand.
Why is he here? He should be in Chicago. He shouldn’t behere.
I keep shouting his name, but it’s like my voice is broken. The sound seems to be getting stuck in my throat.
As I get closer, I wince at the heat radiating from the vehicle. I shout for him again, but then I’m thrown back into the sand as the vehicle explodes.
I bolt upright in bed, gasping for breath. His name is still stuck in my throat. The sheets are tangled around my legs, sticking to my damp skin. I tear them off me with shaky hands, anger simmering through my veins. It takes a moment for me to register I’m in a bed, not crawling through the sandy desert. I glance around, neck tense and fists clenched. My eyes slowly begin to adjust to the darkness of the room. The TV must have gone off. I frantically pat the bed beside me, only to find it cold and empty.
Fuck.Where is he?
Tossing the sheets to the floor, I jump out of bed and rush out of the bedroom. My feet pound against the hardwood floor as I all but run toward where there’s light coming from the living room. When I get to the end of the hallway, the TV lights up, where Elliot has the contents of his pantry laid out on the countertops.
He spins around, his mouth open in surprise. He’s clutching a packet of something to his chest as worry fills his gaze. “I’m sorry, did I wake you?”
I shake my head, unable to speak. I close the distance between us, wrapping my arms around him and pulling him against me so tight, the packet of cashews he’s holding bursts between us.
“Wow, you’re hot,” he mumbles into my damp skin. I’m dripping with sweat. Hair sticking to my face. “And I don’t mean in a ‘wow, you’re hot’ attractive way, even though you’re that too, but you’re hot, as in hot hot. Like you’re sweating hot.”
I tighten my hold on him and lift him up until he’s sitting on the kitchen island. I bury my head into his neck, and without me saying a word, he loops his arms around my back and his legs around my waist, anchoring me.
“Hunter, are you okay?” he whispers, threading his fingers into the hair on the back of my head. He scratches lightly against my scalp. “Your heart is going really fast.”
I shake my head, squeezing my eyes shut.
Fuck, I haven’t had a nightmare in a while. Having those thoughts of Elliot at the scene this morning must have triggered something in my conscience.
“Do I need to call an ambulance?”
