Christ. What if their positions had been reversed? Would he have gone insane, too? That thought turned his stomach. Luna’s hand stayed pressed lightly against the center of his back as she tried to keep him steady and grounded. Gunner seemed to notice every second of it. His eyes darkened immediately.
“She calms you down,” he murmured.
Rocco’s jaw tightened. “Leave her out of this.”
“But she’s the whole point of all of this now.” Gunner tilted his head slowly. “Isn’t she?” Tony shifted subtly near the living room doorway, and Luca stayed locked near the side wall, watching carefully. Jonesy looked ready to step in if this exploded, and honestly, Rocco didn’t know if anybody could stop it from happening. Because Gunner kept circling closer and closer to the one thing Rocco would absolutely kill to protect—Luna.
Gunner climbed another step out of the cellar slowly, and nobody raised a weapon at him—not yet. Rocco realized with sick certainty that none of them wanted this ending with Gunner’s death unless they absolutely had no choice—not even him. Which was the real problem, because Gunner seemed to know it too.
“You still can’t pull the trigger on me, can you?” Gunner asked softly.
Rocco’s grip tightened around his gun. “Try me.” The words came out rough, but didn’t seem to be convincing enough.
A sad smile spread slowly across Gunner’s face. “You’re still my brother,” he whispered. Rocco inhaled sharply through his nose and felt old memories crashing into him hard enough to make his head pound. Flashes of Gunner covering him during firefights, and dragging him behind cover once after shrapneltore through the street beside them. Even Gunner, when he was laughing like the world couldn’t touch them. All those memories were followed by years of silence, until now.
“Why did you pretend to be dead all this time?” he asked. “Why didn’t you contact me?” Rocco asked suddenly. The words surprised him, and Gunner froze halfway out of the cellar.
“What?” he asked.
“You survived.” Rocco’s voice roughened. “Why the hell didn’t you come find me?” The question cracked through the tension differently than anger had, because underneath all this rage, Rocco genuinely wanted the answer.
Gunner looked stunned for a second, and then bitter. “You think I didn’t try to contact you?” The cabin went still.
Rocco frowned immediately. “Yes,” he breathed. “I would have noticed if you had.”
Gunner laughed harshly. “Hospital records said you got discharged after psych evaluations.” His eyes darkened. “Then you disappeared.” Rocco’s stomach dropped, because he had disappeared down a bottle of booze. He was drinking and fighting anyone he could get his hands on. He avoided everyone, just trying to survive his own damn head.
“I looked for you,” Gunner continued quietly. “For months.” Pain twisted through Rocco’s chest so violently that it nearly took his breath.
“But then, you gave up,” Rocco said. “Because I was a lost cause.”
“No,” Luna said softly. Everybody looked toward her as she stepped out from behind Rocco slowly despite his immediate tension.
“Trauma isolated both of you,” she said carefully. “You’re blaming each other for surviving differently.” Gunner stared at her strangely after that, and it wasn’t hostile this time. He seemed curious about what she was saying.
“You really believe that?” he asked.
“Yes,” she breathed. Thunder cracked violently overhead as rain lashed against the windows harder, and for one dangerous second, the rage in the room eased slightly. It was enough for grief to finally breathe underneath it.
Rocco lowered his gun an inch without meaning to, and Gunner noticed immediately. “So did she save you?” he asked quietly. Rocco looked toward Luna, at the woman standing in the middle of chaos, trying to hold broken men together with nothing but stubbornness and heart. Yeah, she had saved him—more than she even realized.
“She gave me peace,” he admitted. The honesty of it made Luna’s breath hitch softly behind him. Gunner looked wrecked hearing it, and suddenly, Rocco saw the truth clearly for the first time. Gunner didn’t know how to live after the war—not without his unit.
“You could’ve come home too,” Rocco said quietly.
Gunner’s eyes flashed instantly. “There was no home left for me to come back to.” The words came out cracked around the edges—raw and real. Luna looked heartbroken. Tony looked uncomfortable as hell, and even Luca’s expression softened slightly, because every man in that room understood exactly what Gunner was going through on one level or another. War changed people permanently; some learned how to liveafterward, and some didn’t. Gunner got left behind emotionally long before anyone realized he was physically alive.
“You need help,” Luna said gently.
That shattered everything that they were working on, and Gunner laughed. “I don’t need a fucking therapist,” he growled. Rocco’s stomach tightened immediately because the shift happened quickly. Gunner’s expression hardened again while something dangerous flickered behind his eyes.
“You think this is fixable?” he asked.
“Nobody’s beyond help,” Luna answered carefully. That seemed to be the wrong answer, and Rocco knew it immediately, because Gunner suddenly looked furious.
“No,” Gunner snapped. “Don’t do that.”
Luna stiffened. “Do what?”
