I raised a brow. “You? Didn’t see that coming. You two look solid.”
He chuckled, humorless. “Now, yeah. Back then? I ghosted her for a week once, just a couple months in. Told myself I was sparing her the mess. Truth was, I was scared as hell. Scared she’d see me shaking in the middle of the night, scared she’d look at me differently.” He shrugged. “Guess what? She already knew.”
“Didn’t mean it was easy,” he went on. “I blew up at her once, snapped at the wrong moment. She almost left. And you know what changed it? I finally admitted I needed help. Not from some VA doc, not from a checklist. From her. From the people I wanted to build a life with.” I stared at the bottle, his words hitting harder than I wanted to admit.
Mike’s gaze sharpened. “So tell me, man. Do you want Camille and those kids in your life, or do you want to keep hiding until you’re sitting alone in this dump with no one left to fight for?”
I swallowed hard, throat tight. The picture of her flashed in my head with her curls spilling over her shoulders, her laugh when Zeke told some ridiculous story, the twins climbinginto my lap like I’d always been there. I wanted it badly. But wanting and thinking I deserved it? Two different fights. I shook my head, a bitter laugh. “You make it sound simple.”
Mike’s eyes narrowed. “It’s not simple. But it’s not impossible either.”
“You don’t get it,” I muttered, jaw tight. “Sarah didn’t have to watch you freeze up every time the world got loud. Never saw you bolt awake, drenched in sweat. The night of that party, I woke her up screaming in my sleep. She looked terrified. I should be the one making her feel safe. Instead, I was the reason she was scared. Camille’s got three kids, Mike. She doesn’t need another thing to take care of.”
Mike leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “So what you’re telling me is she already knows? She’s already seen it, months ago, and was still there?”
I looked away, heat crawling up my neck. “Not all of it. If she did…” I trailed off, throat thick. “If she did, she’d realize I’m not what she needs.”
“Bullshit,” Mike shot back. “That woman looks at you with hearts in her eyes. Those kids? They already see you as family. You want to be the guy who teaches them men bail when things get hard?” That hit like a punch to the gut. Exactly what I swore I’d never be. Especially not after what they’ve all been through.
I clenched the bottle, voice rough. “Better I leave now than before they get too attached.”
Mike stared at me like I’d grown another head. “That’s not protecting them, Hunter. That’s running. And we both know running never fixed a damn thing.”
I rubbed my beard, fighting that familiar sting. I wanted to believe him, wanted to let myself think I could be whatCamille and those kids needed. But every bit of me felt it was a lie.
I set the bottle down, pushing up off the couch. “Thanks for the beer,” I muttered. “But I should go.” Mike started to argue, but Sarah stepped in from the kitchen, towel in hand, eyes sharp, reading the whole room in a heartbeat.
“Giving him the tough-love speech again?” she asked Mike, eyebrows up.
“He needs it,” Mike said gruffly.
She crossed the room and handed me a folded card. “And he needs more than pride and beer.” Her voice was softer, empathy lacing each word.
I frowned and took the card without thinking. Just a name, a number, and a clinic logo I didn’t know.
“She works with veterans,” Sarah said. “The real kind, not just numbers on a file. Mike won’t say it, but he went to see her. More than once.”
“Sarah…” Mike muttered, shifting in his chair, but she shot him a look that shut him up.
I blinked between them. “Mike, of all people, Mr. ‘Suck it up, Marine’, sitting in a therapist’s office?”
Sarah’s tone softened, her hand on my arm. “You don’t have to carry it alone, Hunter. Pushing Camille away doesn’t protect her. It just hurts both of you. If you want to fight for her and those kids, fight for yourself first.”
The card felt heavy in my hand. I wanted to shove it in my pocket and forget it existed. I wanted to believe I could grit my way through like always. But the part that saw Camille’s tears, Zeke’s confused little face, the twins’ wide eyes knew Sarah was right. And maybe grit wasn’t enough anymore.
She leaned forward. “That’s a good place to start.”
Sitting there in that living room, I didn’t feel picked apart. I felt like maybe someone was willing to help me dig out, not just cover it up.
Chapter Fifty Three
Camille
Life didn’t slow down to give me room to feel Hunter’s absence. Mornings were the same whirlwind, packing lunches, chasing Zeke to put his shoes on, juggling twin tantrums while trying to get out the door on time. At work, I smiled at patients, filed charts, answered phones, all while my mind replayed our fight like a broken record.
I told myself I was angry. If he wanted to pull away, fine, I’d survived people leaving before. My dad’s absence. The day I realized the kids’ father was lost to drugs. The heartbreak of realizing the man who came before him wasn’t sticking around either. I’d survived all of that, raised three kids, and kept going.
But underneath, the anger melted into dread. Dread that this time I hadn’t just been left behind, but that I’d pushed him there. I remembered the look in his eyes before he walked out. Tired. Haunted. Like he was carrying something I couldn’t touch. I hated that he wouldn’t let me in, but I hated morethat maybe he truly believed he wasn’t worth letting in.
