“You good, brother?” Logan asked, finally.
“Yeah,” I said, meaning it. “Better than I’ve been in a long time.”
Nick nodded. “That’s all that matters.”
I leaned back, the hum of cicadas filling the silence, the glow of the house soft behind us.
For the first time in years, I didn’t feel as though I was caught between two worlds; I felt whole.
And when Camille came outside, sliding her hand into mine, exactly where it belonged, I realized I didn’t just want her in my world.
I wanted to build a new one with her. She’d been nervous walking in, I knew that, but she’d held her own. And I was proud to have her by my side.
???
The hotel was only a few minutes away. The room was simple. It held neutral walls, a king-sized bed, and a lonely desk tucked into a corner. Yet standing there with her bag on the chair and her curls spilling over her shoulders, she stood out. She lingered by the dresser, clearly unsure what to do with herself. I wanted to close the space between us, to kiss her until she forgot every doubt, but I also knew how fragile this was.
So I sat on the edge of the bed, leaning back on my palms. “You hungry? I swiped extra brownies. Might’ve hidden them in the truck.”
That earned me a laugh, shaky but real. “I can’t believe you stole the brownies and the plate.”
“Yeah,” I said, grinning. “Figured you’d want your usual late-night snack.” Her eyes flicked to mine, and somethingin her face softened. She crossed the room slowly, then sat beside me. Close enough that her warmth brushed against me.
“You okay?” I asked, keeping my voice low.
She glanced at me, gave a tight little smile. “Yeah. I had fun. I enjoyed seeing that side of you. It’s just hard to be away from the kids. And this just feels different, more at stake.”
I reached over, brushing her hand with mine. “I’m glad you came.” Her eyes softened, and she nodded, though I knew the battle inside her wasn’t won that easily.
For a while, we just sat in silence. The hum of the AC, the muffled sound of a TV, since Cami could never fall asleep without it on subtly in the background. My pulse was steady, but heavy with restraint. Except I couldn’t help but kiss her. And when I did, it wasn’t about proving anything. It was slow, careful, like telling her with every brush of my lips:You don’t have to hide. Not from me.
And with that, I let myself fall asleep listening to the peaceful rhythm of Camille’s breathing against my chest. For a while, the warmth of her weight soothed the edges of my thoughts and anchored me.
But sleep has never been kind to me.
One minute, I was in a hotel bed with her curled against me, and the next I was back in Afghanistan.
The dream was sharper this time. Not flashes, but full color, full sound.
Sand in my mouth. The air was ripped apart by gunfire. My buddy’s scream echoed as the ground exploded. I reached for him. Fingers brushing his sleeve. But then he was gone, swallowed in smoke and silence.
And then, silence turned into screaming. Mine.
“Hunter!”
Her voice cut through, jolting me upright. Reflexes ready to defend myself and my men. My chest heaved, lungs burning like I’d run miles. Sweat dripped down my temple, soaking the sheets. My hands trembled, fists knotted so tight the nails dug into my palms. And then I noticed that Camille was half-sitting, half-crawling back, curls piled on top of her head, eyes wide and glinting in the dim light. Fear flickered there, not of me, but for me.
I hated that I put it there.
“I’m sorry,” I rasped, dragging a hand down my face. “I didn’t mean to…”
“You were yelling,” she whispered, still catching her breath. “You scared me.”
Her voice cracked, and shame hit me like a punch. The last thing I wanted was for her to see this, the broken parts I kept buried.
“I’m sorry. It’s just nightmares,” I muttered, trying to pull back. “Doesn’t matter.”
But she shook her head, steadier than I expected. “Of course it matters. This is you. Talk to me.”
