"When I'm ready. When we're ready." He studied my face. "Is that okay?"
I thought about it. Meeting his family. Being scrutinized by the Langfords, measured by whatever criteria wealthy Manhattan families used to judge security guards from nowhere.
"Yeah," I said. "It's okay."
He smiled and kissed me softly.
Then his expression shifted, growing more serious.
"You never talk about your family," he said.
The words landed heavily in my chest. I knew this was coming. Knew that someday he'd ask, and I'd have to decide how much to reveal.
"Nothing to talk about."
"Vance..."
"Foster care." The words came out flat. Practiced. "Aged out at eighteen. Joined the Army. End of story."
"That's not the end." His hand found mine. "You know everything about me. Every shameful part. The therapy. Elizabeth. All of it."
"That's different."
"Why?"
I looked away, unable to meet his eyes and say what I needed to say.
"Because your story has a family at the end. Mine doesn't."
Silence. His fingers tightened around mine.
"Tell me," he said softly. "Please."
The words resisted.
I'd spent years burying this. Building walls around it. Pretending it didn't exist except in the nightmares that still woke me at 3 AM, sweat-soaked and gasping.
But Tobias had just walked back into his parents' lives and revealed who he really was. He'd faced his biggest fear and come out the other side.
I owed him the same.
"Third tour," I said. "Afghanistan."
He went still beside me, listening.
"An IED hit our convoy. Middle of nowhere. Just sand and rocks and heat so thick you could choke on it."
I could see it. I always saw it when I closed my eyes: the flash of light, the sound—a roar that seemed to come from everywhere at once. The vehicle in front of mine lifted off the ground like it weighed nothing.
"Three men in my squad. Jenkins. Rodriguez. Callahan." Their names felt strange in my mouth; it had been years since I'd said them aloud. "I was supposed to keep them safe."
"Vance..."
"I see their faces." My voice turned ragged. "Every time I close my eyes, every time I let my guard down, they're there. Asking why I'm still alive and they're not."
I felt his hand on my face, turning me to look at him. His eyes were wet.
"It wasn't your fault," he said.
