Page 46 of Montana Memory
“Bullshit.”
His chest jerked with a humorless laugh. “You don’t know what I’ve done.”
I knew enough. I knew the man who had saved me. The man who had kept me safe. The man who was more than the sumof his worst moments. I didn’t say any of that. Not yet. I just waited; I didn’t push.
And finally, he spoke.
“It was supposed to be a routine patrol.” His voice was detached, like he was a bored docent at a small-town museum. “Small village outside of Kunduz. We’d passed through a dozen times before, always the same. Locals barely looked at us. Just kept their heads down, minded their own.” He exhaled, long and slow. Pushed off the wall so he was standing up, shoulders tense, arms hanging at his sides. “Then we met the kid.”
My throat went tight.
“He was maybe thirteen. Small, scrawny. We gave him an MRE. Some bottled water. He barely looked at us as he took it, but we figured he was just scared. Figured his parents had warned him to stay away from the Americans.”
Hunter’s fingers twitched, hands formed into fists.
“Hewasscared,” he said, voice quieter now. “But not of us.”
A beat of silence. Then, finally, he turned his head slightly, just enough for his gaze to find mine.
“The next day, he led us straight into an ambush.”
I felt the words like a punch to the gut. Hunter didn’t look away. He just stood there, water streaming over his face, his expression unreadable.
“They were waiting for us,” he said. “Hidden in the ridgeline, in the trees. We never saw them coming.” His throat worked as he swallowed. “My entire team was wiped out in minutes.”
I sucked in a breath, my chest tight, a sharp ache spreading through my ribs.
“Seven men.” His voice didn’t waver, but I felt the weight of those two words. “My brothers. My responsibility.” He shook his head, his jaw clenching. “I should’ve died with them.”
I stepped closer. He didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. The water kept pouring, hot and steady, but the chill in his voice made my skin prickle.
“I don’t know why I didn’t,” he admitted. “They called it a miracle I made it out.”
My heart splintered. I reached up, brushing my fingers along his forearm. “I can’t answer why. All I know is that I’m glad you did. That if you hadn’t, I wouldn’t be here right now. So if you can’t be relieved you survived for you, be relieved for me.”
For the longest time, he didn’t move, and then, finally, he turned to face me. His tormented eyes locked on mine, and slowly, his forehead dropped against mine. We stood like that until the water started losing its heat, and I stretched my hand around him and turned it off. I reached for a towel and dried him, both relieved and humbled that he let me.
The scars on his body—two, at least, definitely bullet wounds—meant something much different to me now.
I grabbed the other towel to dry myself, but to my surprise, he took it from me and began drying me as thoroughly as I had him. When he knelt down in front of me and picked up my foot so he could dry it, I ran my fingers through his thick hair.
Neither of us spoke. There was nothing to say that would make any of this better. So I didn’t try.
We walked back into the bedroom, putting on clothes to sleep in. I heard the kittens stirring in the other room and went to check on them. I knelt beside them, their tiny bodies stretching and twisting around, their paws reaching for me. I ran my fingers over their soft fur, feeling the vibration of their tiny purrs beneath my palm.
Hunter stood in the doorway, watching me, something unreadable flickering in his gaze. I didn’t ask what he was thinking. Didn’t push. I knew he would tell me if he wanted to talk about it.
Instead, I stood and crossed the room, reaching for his hand. “Come on.”
For a second, I wasn’t sure if he’d follow. Then, with a heavy breath, he did. I slipped beneath the sheets, feeling the coolness against my skin, and after a moment, Hunter did the same. He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, his jaw tight, his muscles still coiled like he was waiting for something to snap.
I turned onto my side, watching him.
Minutes stretched, heavy and thick. Then, finally, he exhaled and rolled toward me, sliding his arm around my waist. I went willingly, pressing my face into the solid warmth of his chest.
Sleep didn’t come easy, but at least we weren’t alone.
Chapter 16
