Instead, I dropped my head back against the seat, exhaling hard.
I thought about my dad, how he’d sneered at weakness, how he’d told me emotions made men soft. And I thought about Camille looking at me like my mess didn’t scare her, like she wanted in, no matter what. Her eyes could cut through the fog and see the parts I tried to hide. That last look she gave me held no judgment and stuck with me. It made me think maybe I wasn’t as broken as I felt. I wanted to hold onto that, let it anchor me. Those two voices pulled at me in opposite directions, leaving me stuck in between, paralyzed as I opened the text she’d sent.
Camille:Please be safe.
Not come back to me, not explain, just safe. Something in my chest cracked. I wanted to turn the key, drive back, and fall at her feet. The shame of it kept my hands frozen. So I sat in the dark, phone burning in my hand, wondering if this was the moment I finally ruined the best thing I’d ever had.
It should’ve been a relief, but all I could hear was the echo of every other time someone had decided I wasn’t worth the fight.
I rubbed a hand over my beard, jaw tight. I could go back. Walk upstairs, tell her the truth, let her really see me. The nightmares. The shakes. The way every pop of fireworks sent me straight back overseas.
But what if she didn’t like what she saw? What if Zeke stopped looking at me like I was his hero and started seeing me as another guy who couldn’t hold it together? What if the twins stopped reaching for me, sensing the storm I triedto keep buried? What if she stopped looking at me like I was home and started looking at me like I was broken? The thought was unbearable.
So instead of turning back, I sat there telling myself distance was better. It was easier to believe she’d be fine without me and to think she deserved someone steadier, not a guy who flinched at shadows. No woman wants a man who can’t hold himself together.
I had just sabotaged the one good thing I’d found by staying away and convincing myself she’d be better off if I let her go.
???
The next few days blurred into the same routine: work, gym, home. I avoided Camille’s place entirely, convincing myself that distance was best. My phone buzzed more than once with her name lighting the screen, a reminder of the life I was missing. Zeke drew something for you. The twins learned a new word today. Little updates that tugged at me. Each one I read but left unanswered, all the replies that went unsent. I let the silence stretch, believing it was kinder somehow, that it kept me from saying the wrong thing.
I threw myself into work on base, clocking extra hours I didn’t need. I pushed harder at the gym, letting the weights grind out what sleep couldn’t. And at night, when I lay awake staring at the ceiling, I convinced myself this was temporary. That giving her space now would protect her from the worst of me later.
But the truth was, I missed them.
I missed Zeke’s endless questions, the twins’ squeals, the way Camille laughed when I teased her out of her own head.I missed walking into her world and feeling like maybe, just maybe, I belonged there.
And the more I told myself I was protecting her, the more I knew I was lying. Because deep down, I knew this wasn’t protection. It was fear, and it had me by the throat.
Chapter Fifty One
Camille
The thing about abandonment wounds is that withdrawal and silence hurt more than an argument ever could.
Days passed with no word from Hunter, and each hour without a text felt like a fresh reminder that I was too much and he’d gone, just like the others.
I tried to keep myself busy, but he lingered in everything. In the empty spot on the couch where he usually sat with Zeke, building Lego sets. In the swing at the park, where the twins looked forward, as if they expected him to push them higher. In the way my phone lit up at night with everyone and everything but him. I checked anyway, though, constantly.
A ridiculous part of me hoped I’d see his name, hear his voice, get some proof that I hadn’t just imagined the love between us. But when I did hear from him, it was short. Flat. Messages anyone could have sent.Busy. Talk later.
But later never came.
I tried to keep up appearances for the kids. Smiled whenZeke asked about him, kissed the twins’ curls when they babbled “Hunty!” like he was still about to walk through the door. Yet when the house was quiet, I curled on the couch with my textbooks untouched, staring at the last picture I’d taken of him holding the twins. He hated pictures, but he never complained about the countless pictures I took when he was in the moment; those candid shots were the only thing I had to remind me that this was all real.
As I fell deeper into the pits, I started to second-guess it all. The last time he smiled at me. The kiss before he left. The way he’d picked up Zeke and swung him around like he wanted to belong here.
Had I read it wrong? Had I been stupid enough to believe someone like him could actually want someone like me with three kids, stretch marks, messy hair, and all?
The ache curled tight in my chest, familiar and bitter. I’d felt it before. Each loss in my life taught me to build walls higher, to guard my heart more fiercely. Yet, with Hunter, it cut deeper because I’d let him in, believing he wasn’t like the other men in my life who tossed me aside the moment they determined I wasn’t worth the effort it took to stay.
And now I wasn’t sure if that belief made me brave… or just naive.
Chapter Fifty Two
Hunter
Ihadn’t planned on saying anything. Hell, I’d barely planned on leaving the apartment but I was stuck in my head.
