My throat tightened. “That sounds… hard.”
He shrugged, but there was no denial in it. “It was. But then I met you.”
The words weren’t loud or dramatic. Just simple and honest, landing in the space between us like truth.
I reached out without thinking, my fingers tracing the lines of the tattoo on his forearm. The ink rippled over muscle, the orange and black scales soft beneath my touch. “Maybe that’s why we work,” I whispered. “Because we both know what it’s like to grow up without softness. And maybe nowwe get to build something different.”
He turned his hand over, threading his fingers through mine. His skin was warm, calloused, and grounding in mine.
“Maybe,” he said, voice low. “Or maybe it’s just you. You make me want to try.”
The night stretched quietly around us, the air thick and humming, the crickets still keeping time. I could feel the weight of his words settle deep inside me. And as I sat there in that moment, on the bench he had bought, I didn’t feel like I was reaching for something that would disappear.
I just felt seen.
Chapter Eighteen
Hunter
The night air felt both cool and dense as I thought about her latest question, the hum of distant cars often fading into the background whenever I found myself lost in thought. It was the small moments like these that revealed the progress we’d made.
She asked questions, always. Not sharp or prying, but gentle, like she was tracing the outline of who I was, mapping out the places I kept hidden. Sometimes I pictured her inner monologue running wild, teasing herself for being so relentless, but it was never just a game. Beneath the jokes, there was a quiet, vulnerable shift that pulled us deeper.
I smirked, rubbing a hand over my beard as I shared more stories of my reckless teen years, too busy racing cars and skipping out on curfews to be worried about school or girls. The one…or two times I found myself in trouble after getting caught racing down quite backroads.
Her laugh bubbled out, bright, and I caught the sparkle in her eyes. “That actually makes so much sense.”
But then her questions dug deeper.
“What was deployment really like?”
“Do you still talk to your ex-wife?”
“What was the hardest part of all of it?”
Silence pressed in, her eyes searching mine for answers I wasn’t ready to give. My knee bounced, restless, the night air cool against my skin. I rubbed my hands together, chasing warmth, words heavy and unspoken between us. The quiet filled up with everything I couldn’t say. Her gaze lingered, waiting, and my heart thudded with the weight of things I kept buried. Old scars flickered just beneath the surface.
Finally, I broke eye contact, staring down at my hands. “I know…” she said carefully, “some things are just hard to talk about.”
“They are,” I admitted, voice low. “And I’ll tell you what I can. Just… not everything. Not right now.”
The air felt thick, heavy with everything unsaid.
I forced a grin, trying to break it up. “What is this, anyway, twenty questions? You planning to write my biography or something?”
Her eyes narrowed with mock offense. “Oh, so now you’re complaining?”
“I mean…” I leaned back, smirking. “You do ask a lot.”
Before I could react, she lunged, laughing, and climbed onto my back like she was tackling me. “Fine! If you won’t answer, I’ll annoy it out of you!”
“Camille!” I barked, laughing hard now, trying to shake her off. Her curls tickled my face, her giggles filling the night air.
I bent forward, pretending to stumble, then spun, making her squeal as I scooped her legs tighter around me. “You think you can torture a Marine for information? Rookie mistake.”
Her laughter turned breathless, forehead pressed against my shoulder.
She poked at places I usually kept locked up, but with her clinging to me, both of us laughing until our ribs hurt, it didn’t feel risky. The tension in my shoulders eased, breath coming easier, laughter making room for a lighter feel. It felt like stepping out of shadow into sunlight, each laugh a gentle nudge toward safety. Her weight on my back wasn’t heavy; it was comforting, a quiet reminder that letting someone in could feel like this.
