I almost smiled despite myself. “Food fixes everything, huh?”
“Works with Zeke,” he said, and there was that ghost of his old grin, the one that used to melt me before I remembered why I’d built walls in the first place.
For a moment, I hesitated. The smart move was to tell him to take me home, that this wasn’t enough to erase the weeks of silence. But the truth was, I was starving: for food, yes, but also for this. For him trying. For something normal again.
So I followed him inside.
The diner smelled like greasy food and coffee. A waitress with tired eyes and a kind smile led us to a booth in the back. I slid into one side, bag at my side, while Hunter sat across from me, fidgeting with the menu.
We ordered quickly, and for a while, the silence was comfortable. Familiar in a way it hadn’t been in weeks. When the food came, he pushed the ketchup toward me first. “See? Already doing better.”
I rolled my eyes, but the corner of my mouth lifted. “Don’t think ketchup earns you forgiveness.”
“Noted.” He dunked a fry into my ketchup, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Guess I’ll have to try harder.” And just like that, the tension loosened a notch.
I studied him as he ate, the way his shoulders still held tension, though not as tightly, and the way his eyes met mine. He wasn’t fixed, not even close. But he was here. And maybe, for tonight, that was enough.
“Why do you always eat like it’s your last meal?” I teased, raising a brow.
He grinned around a mouthful of fries. “Military habit. You gotta eat fast before you’re out of time.”
I laughed softly, the sound surprising me. It had been too long since I’d laughed around him without it catching on the sharp edge of hurt.
The laughter faded, though, replaced by the question I’d been carrying for weeks. “Why now, Hunter? Why come back after all…that?”
He set his burger down, wiped his hands on a napkin, and for once didn’t look away. “Because I finally stopped lying to myself. I told myself I was protecting you, but really? I was protecting myself. From you seeing the worst of me. From you deciding I wasn’t worth the fight.”
I held his gaze, my chest tight. “You think silence made me feel like you were worth the fight?”
His eyes softened, regret spilling out of them. “No. But it made me realize how fast I was losing you. And I don’t want to lose you. Or your kids. Therapy’s helping, but… You help too. You make me want to be better. When I’m with you and the kids, I feel like I’m actually living.” I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe this wasn’t another chapter of abandonment.
I leaned back against the booth, biting my lip. “You can’t disappear again, Hunter. I can survive a lot, but I won’t survive letting my kids love you only to watch you leave.”
He nodded slowly, the weight of my words sinking in. “I won’t promise I’ll never struggle. But I’ll promise you won’t go through it blind again. No more shutting you out.”
We sat there in the warm hum of the diner, the clatter of plates and chatter of strangers filling the silence we couldn’t. The ache in my chest wasn’t gone, but it eased. And against my better judgment, I let myself hope again.
ChapterFifty Nine
Camille
The diner lights faded into the distance as Hunter’s truck rolled back toward town. I sat in the passenger seat, arms folded tight across my chest, still unsure if I’d made the right choice.
When he pulled into his complex, I hesitated. “Hunter…”
He cut the engine, turning toward me. “No pressure. If you want me to drive you home right now, I will. I just—” His voice broke a little. “I want you to see I’m not running this time.”
Something in his tone soothed the parts of me threatening to fold.
I nodded slowly, unbuckled my seat belt, and followed him upstairs.
His apartment was still tidy, too tidy, like no one lived there. The couch cushions were square, the coffee table clear except for a few magazines and the remote. It didn’t feel cozy or lived-in the way my cluttered, toy-filled apartment did.Sinking into the edge of the couch, I fired off a quick check-in with my mom; her reply was almost a welcome distraction.
Mom:Kids are perfect. Zeke said he’s
“in charge” until you get home.
Don’t worry, I only let him make
