And the guilt. I finally said it out loud. Told the therapist what I hadn’t told anyone: I came home; others didn’t. Some nights, I replayed orders I gave, wondering if I could’ve chosen differently, if someone’s kid would have a dad now. She didn’t say it wasn’t my fault. Didn’t pat my hand. Just told me, “You’re carrying weight no one was meant to carry alone.”
That broke me open. I’d carried it alone for years by hiding it under work, jokes, walls nobody could see through. Truth is, it made me short-tempered. The kind of man I swore I wouldn’t be. I snapped at coworkers, ground my teeth when I should’ve stayed calm. Burying it was easier than admitting the cracks.
Therapy’s teaching me to see it before I blow up. To say, I need five minutes. To walk out and breathe instead of losing it. It’s not easy. Not perfect. But it’s something.
Sitting across from Camille, I realized all that work I’d put in meant nothing if I didn’t start here. She’s the reason I want to fight for better. Not just to shut down the nightmares or guilt, but to stand in front of her and say, I’m trying. I’ll keep trying. Because she and those kids deserve the best of me, not the shell I’ve been hiding in.
Chapter Sixty One
Camille
For a long moment, I couldn’t speak.
His words filled the room, raw and jagged, and I just sat there staring at him. The man who had stormed out weeks ago, who had left me waiting in silence, was gone. In his place sat someone stripped bare, someone admitting fear, guilt, weakness. Someone I hadn’t been sure existed beneath all his walls.
Part of me wanted to fold my arms tighter, to remind myself how many promises I’d heard before. My dad swore he’d be around, but then he vanished, again and again. The kids’ father didn’t necessarily walk out the door himself, but he did nothing to keep us there.
But then there was Hunter. Sitting in front of me now, his hands shaking just enough for me to notice, his voice low and uneven as he talked about nightmares and guilt he carried from a world I couldn’t even imagine.
He wasn’t hiding.
And for me, that mattered more than any perfect words ever could.
I thought about the tools he mentioned. They weren’t just words; they were proof he was trying. Proof he was doing the work not just for himself, but for me, for my kids, for the little world we’d started to build together. And I couldn’t ignore my own need for healing, the fears that kept me up at night. I had spent so long holding it together alone, afraid that if I let anyone in, I might lose control. My past, filled with broken promises and abandonment, was a shadow that lingered, whispering doubts about love and trust. I realized I needed to work on my own fears, find my own strength to believe in us again.
My throat tightened, tears stinging my eyes before I could blink them away. “Do you know what it means for me to hear you say that?” I whispered. “That you’re actually trying? That you didn’t just… give up?”
His eyes flicked up, blue and unguarded. “I want to be better. For you. For them. For me, too, I guess. But mostly for the life I don’t want to lose.”
The dam inside me cracked, just a little. Enough to let me breathe again. Enough to let a sliver of hope slide back in. I wiped at my eyes quickly, not wanting him to mistake tears for forgiveness. “I’m hurt. I still don’t trust that you won’t run again. But… I hear you, Hunter. And I can see you’re not just saying all the right things. You’re… showing me.”
He nodded slowly, almost as if he’d been bracing for worse.
I decided to let my guard slip, just enough to imagine how it might feel to trust him again.
The air between us was thick as his eyes searched mine, raw and unguarded, as if he was standing on the edge of acliff waiting to see if I’d shove him off or pull him back. I could still feel the sting of the silence he’d left me with, the hollow ache of weeks of doubt, but I could also feel the shift in him. The truth in his voice. The pieces he’d finally let me see.
My chest rose and fell, unsteady. “You don’t get to run again,” I whispered, voice shaking. “If I let you back in, Hunter… this is it. No more leaving me standing alone in the dark.”
He leaned forward, his voice just as rough. “I know, Camille. I’m not going anywhere ever again. I promise.”
The space between us collapsed in a heartbeat. One second, I was still trying to hold myself back; the next, his hand was on my jaw, my fingers splayed out on his chest, and we were crashing into each other, like the fight and the fear had all boiled over into this one moment. Weeks of hurt, longing, and fear spilled out between us until I couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.
When we finally pulled apart, gasping, my forehead rested against his.
I closed my eyes, heart pounding. “You scare me, Hunter. Not because of your past… but because I think you might be the first man I actually believe will stay.”
His thumb brushed my cheek, tender where the kiss had been rough. “Then let me prove I can be the man you deserve.” The thought of letting him do just that was terrifying. But mainly because I knew he could if he truly wanted to.
The kiss left me breathless, my heart racing as if I’d just run a mile. His hands stayed on my face, gentle now, and for a moment I just let myself rest against him.
The raw intensity ebbed as he pulled back just enough tostudy me, his thumb brushing away the tear I hadn’t realized had slipped free.
Neither of us spoke. Words felt too fragile, too sharp, after everything. But his eyes told me more than any apology or promise could; that he was here, really here, not halfway gone anymore.
My guard was still there, my doubts still whispering. But in that moment, his arms were the safest place I’d been in weeks.
He kissed the top of my head, softer this time. “I don’t deserve you,” he murmured against my hair.
