“Hilarious.” I bump his shoulder with mine. “I mean a real question.”
He takes a slow sip of whiskey. “Shoot.”
“Why do you live all the way up here, separate from the main ranch?”
A slight tension appears in his jaw. I’ve touched something. I’m about to backtrack when he answers.
“I told you about the veterans’ program at Havenridge. Guys who need space to figure out how to be human again after—” He stops. Starts over. “The ranch gives us land, work, community.Most of the guys live closer to the main house. Easier access to everything.”
“But not you.”
“Not me.”
“The scars?” I ask softly.
He doesn’t reply straight away. I wait. The silence stretches, but I don’t fill it. I’m learning that Tank talks when he’s ready, and pushing only makes him clam up harder.
“Roadside IED.”
Those two words could be a hundred for what they convey. Pain. Fear. Anger. Gratitude because he’s still here, but it came with a cost.
“But to answer your question is… I’m too much,” he finally says. The words come out rough, almost reluctant. “Too loud. Too intense. My nightmares used to wake the others. I’d be up at three a.m., making noise, pacing, and the guys on either side of me were losing sleep trying to pretend they didn’t hear.”
My chest tightens. “So you exiled yourself to protect them from… what? Your personality?”
“Something like that.”
“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”
He turns to look at me, eyebrows raised. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” I set my glass down, shifting to face him fully. “You’re telling me you built yourself a cabin in the middle of nowhere because you were worried about being too much for the people who love you?”
“It’s more complicated than?—”
“It’s not complicated at all. It’s self-imposed solitary confinement disguised as consideration.” I poke his chest, which is as solid as a brick wall under my finger, and electricity shoots up my arm. I ignore it. “News flash, Mountain Man: the people who actually care about you would rather lose a little sleep than lose you.”
He stares at me for a long moment. “You always this bossy?”
“Only when people are being idiots.”
“Good to know where I stand.”
“Rock bottom. Absolute moron.” I pick up my glass and take a sip. “For the record? You don’t overwhelm me. You take up exactly the right amount of space.”
Something flickers across his face—surprise, maybe. Or hope.
“Now tell me about these brothers of yours. The ones you’re apparently protecting from youroverwhelming presence.”
His laugh pops up out of nowhere. Deep and genuine. It transforms his whole face, crinkling the corners of his eyes, splitting his beard with a grin that makes my stomach flip.
Oh. Oh, no.
“You really want to know?”
“I asked, didn’t I?”
He leans back, bracing himself on one hand. The movement brings him closer, and his shoulder presses against mine, but I don’t pull away.
