Hunter turned, plates in hand, and nodded toward a chair. “Come sit. Everything’s ready.”
We listened to every one of Zeke’s stories, reveling in this moment. Hunter handed napkins to the twins without missing a beat, cut their food, and made sure I actually ate before I started cleaning up.
I sat there, just watching him. The way he moved around my kids as if he’d always been part of their orbit. The way he glanced at me every few minutes, checking to make sure I was still okay. There was no pity in his gaze, no tension, just a quiet steadiness.
When the chaos died down and the kids drifted off, Hunter helped me carry dishes to the sink. He rolled up his sleeves again, forearms slick with water and soap.
“You didn’t have to do all this,” I said softly, drying a plate beside him.
“I know.” He smirked, not looking up. “I wanted to.”
My chest tightened. I turned to say something, but he set the plate down and faced me instead.
“He’s not going to hurt you again,” he said, voice low,deliberate.
His words didn’t cut. They settled over me, calm and certain, a kind of safety I hadn’t known I needed. A wall between me and the ghosts I kept running from.
I reached up, fingers brushing his jaw, rough with stubble. “Thank you,” I murmured.
He shook his head slowly. “Don’t thank me. Just… let me help carry it, okay?”
That settled deep in me. He wasn’t just talking about the call or my ex. He meant all of it. The years spent holding everything together, pretending I was fine, never letting anyone see how heavy it really was.
I didn’t argue. I just nodded.
Later, I curled up next to him on the couch. The TV was on low, some movie neither of us was watching. My head rested against his shoulder, his arm stretched along the back of the couch, fingertips tracing slow circles against my arm.
I still worried about being too much, about my chaos spilling into the lives of people I cared about. But when he shifted, tucking me closer like I belonged right there, the worry faded. It softened into something quieter.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you everything.” My voice was barely above a whisper as my hands rubbed them over my thighs. “About him.” I hesitated, swallowing hard, the silence stretching between us as I struggled to find the right words. Hunter’s expression shifted, his shoulders tensing just slightly, but he didn’t say anything. He waited, unmoved and patient as always, letting me take my time.
“After he signed over his parental rights, I thought it was done. I really did.” My voice cracked, and I forced a shaky breath. “But he started calling again. From different numbers.Leaving messages, threats that he’d come back and take the kids. Sometimes, just breathing on the other end. And then one night, he showed up outside my mom’s. Said he was there to take the kids, and either I went with him or he’d never see them again.” I swallowed hard, heat rising behind my eyes. “That’s when I got the restraining order.”
Hunter’s jaw worked, a muscle flickering near his temple. “When was that?”
“About a year ago.” I looked down at my hands. “He left me alone for a while, but sometimes…he still calls.” I exhaled, the air shaking out of me.
“I keep telling myself I’m past it, that I’m stronger now. But moments like today…” I trailed off, helpless.
Hunter shifted closer, the space between us shrinking. “Moments like that don’t mean you’re weak,” he said softly. “They mean you survived something that shouldn’t have happened. You don’t have to worry about that anymore. Nothing will ever happen to you or the kids. I promise.”
The pent-up emotions inside me let go. The guilt, the fear, the way I was always bracing for the worst. It all blurred as I leaned in, allowing his arms to envelop me in protection. For a long moment, we just breathed. His breath steady, mine uneven. The kids’ voices floated from the bedroom, a fragile piece of normal in a night that felt anything but.
The adrenaline faded, leaving behind a hollow ache. Not fear now, but the kind that comes when you realize how close you came to losing the thin thread of peace you’ve built.
“Stay with me tonight?” The words came out small, as if I was asking for time I didn’t quite believe I deserved.
Hunter’s eyes flicked toward the kids. Zeke was already slumped against his blanket, the twins curled together like apair of kittens. Then his gaze came back to me, unwavering. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”
I finally knew the words to put to this feeling: Trust. Safety. Because Hunter never made me feel like a burden. He made me feelchosen,and in that moment, I knew that love could feel like this. Unwavering, safe, and real.
Chapter Twenty Eight
Camille
Ihadn’t felt this nervous since our first date. It was silly, really. I was a grown woman, a mom of three, someone who had survived more than most. Still, standing in front of my crooked hallway mirror, smoothing my dress for the fifth time, I felt sixteen again.
Tonight, Hunter was taking me to dinner, the first time we’d be alone since everything with my ex. He kept showing up for me in quiet ways, consistent reminders that I was safe, that I mattered. He wasn’t one for fancy places or big gestures, so I knew this was for me. And I needed tonight to be just that… a new memory. Something good to hold onto.
