"I hear them now too," she says quietly. "The new ones. Added to all the others."
"You'll always hear them. That's not weakness. That's what makes you human."
We stand in silence as the sun sets over Clearwater. The battle is won. The settlement survived. Tomorrow they'll rebuild, strengthen, prepare for whatever comes next.
We're in her quarters to do some planning, supposedly. Discussing next steps, coordination with other settlements, the intelligence Jenna can provide about remaining raiders.
Except I can't focus on tactics when she's pacing in front of me, still wearing the tactical vest from the battle, a smudge of dirt across her cheekbone that I want to wipe away. Except the conversation keeps stalling. Keeps circling back to long pauses and looks that last too long.
She's watching me the way I'm watching her. Like we're both waiting for something. Like the air between us is charged with more than just battle adrenaline.
"You should leave," Avery says finally, stopping her pacing to face me. "That was our agreement. Old Hawk is dead. Your debt is paid."
"Is it?"
"You saved my settlement. Helped kill the man threatening us. Whatever you owe for three years ago—"
"It's not about debt." I step closer, and I see her breath catch. See the way her pupils dilate. "It stopped being about debt somewhere around the third planning session, when I realized I wasn't just trying to make up for failing you. I was trying to earn the right to be near you."
"That's a terrible idea." But she doesn't step back. "I don't trust you. I might never trust you."
"I know." Another step. Close enough now to smell gunpowder and sweat and something underneath that's uniquely her.
"Then why are you looking at me like that?"
I close the distance between us. "Because we might have died today. Because you carried an entire battle on your shoulders and still had room to protect a teenage girl who reminded you of the one you couldn't save. Because I haven't met anyone in four years who understands what it costs to make impossible choices."
"Dutch—"
"Tell me to leave and I'll leave. I'll walk out of Clearwater tonight and never come back, just like we agreed." I reach up, finally giving in to the urge to touch her. My thumb traces along her jaw, wiping away that smudge of dirt. She leans into the touch, just slightly. Just enough. "But if there's any part of you that wants me to stay—"
She kisses me before I can finish.
And it's everything.
I back her against the wall and she wraps her legs around me, demanding, desperate. Her hands tear at my clothes while mine map the curves of her body.
"This doesn't mean I forgive you," she gasps against my mouth.
"I know."
"This doesn't mean I trust you."
"I know."
"This just means," She breaks off, gasping, as I lift her and carry her toward the bed. "It just means I'm tired of being strong alone. Just for tonight."
I lay her down and strip away layers. She's beautiful underneath. Strong. Scarred. Real. Battle bruises mark her shoulder, her ribs, testament to everything she survived today.
"Tell me what you want," I say, hovering over her.
"You. Now. Stop talking."
"Not a chance." I pin her wrists above her head with one hand, use the other to trace down her body. She arches into the touch, fighting and surrendering simultaneously. "Tell me what you need, Avery. I want to hear you say it."
She breaks off, gasping, as my fingers find the wet heat between her thighs. "Fuck. I need you to make me forget."
"Forget what?"
