And he didn’t push.
He just waited.
The silence stretched so long I could hear my own heartbeat. He just stood there, steady, not pushing, not pleading… just waiting. And maybe that was what undid me. Because the Hunter who stormed out of my apartment, who shut me out with silence, would’ve already walked away. But the one in front of me now was still here, even when I hadn’t given him anything back.
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. “If I get in that truck, Hunter, this isn’t just a ride. This isn’t just a talk. You don’t get to disappear on me again.”
His eyes flickered, somewhere between pain and relief tangled together. “I know.”
I studied him for another beat, my arms still crossed, bag strap digging into my shoulder. My gut twisted with every reason not to go: fear, pride, exhaustion. But underneath all that, the smallest spark of hope still flickered.
And against my better judgment, I leaned into it.
Slowly, I walked past him, opened the passenger door, and slid into the truck. The truck smelled like him, familiar and dangerous all at once.
He exhaled shakily, climbing in beside me. “Thank you,” he said quietly, hands gripping the wheel like it was the only thing holding him there.
I wasn’t ready to forgive, but I was ready to listen.
???
The hum of the truck filled the silence as we pulled away from the clinic parking lot. I stared out the window, arms wrapped around myself, fighting the urge to break the quiet first.
He gripped the wheel tighter than necessary, knuckles pale. Finally, he cleared his throat.
“I’ve been going to therapy,” he said, voice low. “Two times a week.”
I blinked, caught off guard. Of all the things I’d expected, that wasn’t on the list.
“Why are you telling me that?” My voice was sharper than I intended.
“Because you deserve to know. I should’ve told you weeks ago instead of shutting you out. I thought I was protecting you and the kids from… me. From the parts I can’t control.”
I turned toward him, my heart pounding. “Do you really think silence protects anyone? Do you know how much it hurts to wonder if I did something wrong? To watch my kids wait for you?”
His face tightened, guilt flickering across his features. “Iknow. And I’m sorry. I was scared, Camille. Scared you’d see the nightmares, the panic, the way it still feels like I’m over there sometimes, and decide I wasn’t worth the risk.”
Beneath the frustration and hurt, I could hear the fear. The same fear that whispered in my own head:too much, too broken, too complicated.
We drove a few more blocks in silence, my eyes stinging. ??Finally, I whispered, “I never needed you to be some perfect version of yourself, Hunter. I just needed you to talk to me.”
He glanced at me then, blue eyes raw, unguarded. “I’m trying. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to lose them. But I can’t promise I won’t struggle…”
A shaky laugh slipped out, tangled with relief and something close to grief. “You think I don’t struggle? I’ve been raising three kids on my own, carrying more than I ever thought I could.” My fingers drummed against the door handle, restless, the rhythm matching the mess inside me. ??Outside, headlights swept across the dashboard, shadows and light flickering over our faces. I watched them blur together, the way my feelings did.
“Struggle doesn’t scare me. Lies do. Silence does.” I glanced at Hunter, his eyes softening as he listened.
For a flicker of a second, his façade cracked, revealing a vulnerability that mirrored my own pain and loss. His breath was coming out unevenly, as if my words had hit him harder than expected. Seeing him react to my confession, his quiet struggle visible, I felt a flicker of connection. And for a moment, I let myself lean into that.
“Every twist, every hard day, it’s taught me more than I ever wanted to know. But I’m still here. Still hoping.” The rest I kept to myself, letting the quiet fill with everything I wasn’tready to say.
There was a shift between us. It was not fixed, not finished, but open. He nodded, gripping the wheel tighter. “Then let me prove I can do better. One day at a time.”
The truck slowed as he pulled into a diner off the highway. A little place with neon lights buzzing in the window and cars lined up outside.
I arched my brow. “Here?”
He cut the engine, glancing at me like he was testing the waters. “I figured since food makes you happy… it might help my case.”
