She stepped forward, slowly, defusing the tension in the moment. “What did you say to him?”
“I told him to stop calling.” I said. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either.
Her eyes searched mine. I could see the worry there, a mix of gratitude and fear that gutted me. “Hunter…”
“I know,” I cut in quietly. “I lost it.” I dragged a hand down my face, the edge still humming under my skin. “I just—seeing that look on your face, I saw red.”
Her eyes met mine, searching for more than an apology. “Hunter, what’s going on?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
I hesitated for a moment, the rush of vulnerability unfamiliar but necessary. “It’s not just about you,” I admitted, swallowing hard. “It’s about me too. I’m afraid of losing this… losing you. I’ve been in places where I had no control, and I can’t stand the thought of not being able to protect you guys.”
She closed the space between us, placing her hand against my chest. “You don’t have to protect me, not like that.”
“Yes, I do,” I said, softer now.
The truth of it hit hard. The line between defending and destroying is thinner than most people realize. I’d spent years learning to stay on the right side of it, and tonight, I’d nearly crossed. Strength isn’t fists, I reminded myself, but restraint. That promise echoed inside me, a quiet vow to protect without losing myself.
Her hand pressed a little harder over my heart. “It’s okay.”
I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I know.”
She didn’t answer, just stepped into me, wrapped her arms around my waist, and rested her forehead against my chest. I held her there, breathing her in, forcing my heartbeat to slow until the anger bled away.
And when the phone buzzed again, just a notification this time, not a call, I ignored it. I held her tighter. Because right now, walking away from my anger was the only kind of strength that mattered.
Cami stood there, arms wrapped around herself, staring at the ground.
“He hasn’t called in months,” she said softly. “I reallythought—”
“He’s testing you,” I said. “Trying to see if he still gets a reaction.” I touched her arm gently.
Her eyes lifted to mine, glassy with unshed tears. “I hate that he still has this kind of power over me.”
I shook my head. “He doesn’t. Fear’s just muscle memory. But you’ve already done the hardest part; you got out. Now you stay out. And I’ll help make damn sure he stays gone.”
Her lower lip trembled, but she faced me with a determination I hadn’t seen before. “Maybe it’s time to change my number again and document these calls, Hunter. I need to be proactive too. If he thinks he can wear me down with fear, he’s wrong. I can’t let him win.”
I nodded, admiring the resolve in her voice. “You don’t have to fix it, Hunter,” she added.
“I’m not trying to fix it,” I said. “Just making sure the world knows it’s not gonna break you.”
Zeke came running over, holding a dandelion like it was a treasure. “Mommy, look!”
She knelt, wiping at her eyes quickly before smiling. “That’s awesome, baby.”
I watched her pull him into her arms, her laugh softer this time, shakier, but still there. The twins ran over too, squealing about snacks and juice boxes, and the world shifted back to normal, or at least the version of normal we’ve been building together.
But I couldn’t shake the look on her face when that number flashed across her screen. I’d seen enough men like him to know they never stopped until someone made them.
And if it came to that, I damn well would.
Chapter Twenty Seven
Camille
By the time the kids were settled with their cartoons, the tension in my body felt like a second skin I couldn’t peel off. Every time I looked at my phone, I half-expected it to light up again, withUnknown Numberflashing across the screen.
Hunter noticed. Of course he did.
