Page 136 of Crossfire

“If you don’t let them in,” Hunter said, “they can’t be taken from you. Am I right?”

An ache I’d worked very freaking hard at squashing reared up in my ribs. First Dad. Then Mom.

When we were kids, everything was perfect. Better than perfect. Sundays were filled with the aroma of pancakes and maple syrup while Mom hummed along to the radio. We’d spend hours in the backyard, playing catch with Dad, and when the sun finally dipped below the horizon, Mom’s gentle hand would tuck us in at night after reading us stories of magical adventures.

And then…then different memories assaulted me like a physical blow. Dad’s lifeless face, pale and waxy in the coffin, his eyelids closed so I couldn’t look at him—really look at him—even one last time. The scent of lilies, mixing with the freshly turned earth. Us boys standing there, in our tiny little suits, staring at his coffin through blurry red eyes as it lowered into the ground.

He’ll be all alone down there. Forever,I remember thinking.

Mom’s anguished sobs, each one slicing through my innocence like a knife.

It was that moment that I realized, at any time, everything and everyone could be taken from you. The older I got, the more I understood how love was a double-edged sword—the very thing that brought you immeasurable joy could also become the source of your deepest sorrow.

I vowed to never let myself be that vulnerable again, so I built my walls, pushing everyone away that tried to break through.

Solitude became my shield against the pain of loss.

It had worked for years, until Ivy came along. She was the first woman I ever found myself leaning into our conversations, the simplicity of talking to her making me imagine how nice it might be to come home to it every night.

“Are you falling in love with her?” Hunter’s voice interrupted my thoughts.

Maybe I already have…

I didn’t answer, though. How could I have been so reckless with my heart?

And how could I calm this taming excitement?

“How do you do it?” I asked.

“Do what?”

“Let yourself go all in with someone?”

Hunter seemed to consider this.

“It was Luna,” Hunter mused. “As soon as I realized how hard I was falling for her, I tried to grab the reins and pull back. Convinced myself I had a choice in the matter. And I suppose I did. I could’ve walked away from her physically. But emotionally…” He looked down at his scotch, swirling it in his glass. “I realized I’d rather live an eternity of fear than spend one day without her.” Emotion swirled through his tone as he added, “She was bigger than my fears. And walking away from Luna would have meant losing her anyway.”

I pursed my lips.

“Ivy deserves better.” I was a stealth executioner, for crying out loud.

“Told myself the same thing about Luna, but look at us now.”

They did look happy. In fact, Hunter was happier than I had ever seen him. So was Luna. They found a way through the dark storm of suffering and agony and now stood in the light.

Was it possible Ivy and I had a chance at the same thing?

What shocked me more than asking myself that question was realizing how badly I wanted it.

“When you fell in love with Luna, I remember you called it something like poetic,” I said. “Now, I get that.”

“Why’s that?”

I paused, my voice tightening. “You’re not wrong; I’ve spent my entire life keeping people at arm’s length. I couldn’t bear the thought of falling for someone and then losing them.”

Hunter studied my face, his expression a mix of concern and understanding.

“And now, the one woman I’ve finally let myself feel something for is in mortal danger.” My fists clenched at my side, my knuckles turning white. “I’m scared, terrified, that I won’t be able to protect her, that I’ll fail her when she needs me most.”

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