Page 155 of Piece Us Together

His reward is getting sent off to war.

Chapter Thirty

Nolan

Hunter climbs into bed with me a few minutes after Maison leaves, wearing comfortable clothes and a sad smile. I wait for him to ask questions or say something, but he just wraps me in his arms and pulls me against his chest, making it so I have to lie down beside him and uncurl the tight little ball of anxiety I’ve made out of my body. His hands run soothingly down my back, pressing harder than usual, like he knows I might be sore from how tense I was. I feel almost dizzy from how easily I melt into him. From the relief of it. The sudden feeling of safety.

It doesn’t take long before my head starts to fill with fear and anger, the two battling it out.Will he ever quit? Is it a job that he loves, or a job he thinks he has to do? Is it penance? Will he ever forgive himself for the things he’s done—the things he had to do?

When will it be enough? When will he let himself rest?

Does he even plan on surviving this career?

Why aren’t we enough for him to stay?

“You’re thinking pretty loudly, darling.” I close my eyes, realizing just how heavy my chest has become as I was allowing myself to spin out. I want to tell him everything I’m thinking. I want to let him carry the load with me, maybe even share some of his own. Together, we can worry about Maison, talk about the future, and make a decision on how to handle this moving forward.

Except, he doesn’t know everything. He doesn’t know enough to understand.

It suddenly feels like Hunter is a million miles away, this huge secret wedged right into a crack we’d all been stupidly trying to ignore. It’s so much worse now that we’re supposed to be a unit. It’s a betrayal.

I don’t know what to say, I don’t know what I evencansay, so I say nothing.

He just holds me for a long time as I lie there with my cheek on Hunter’s bare chest, staring at the spot in the bed where Maison should be. I can tell Hunter is awake the whole time. I’m not the only one thinking too loudly.

“It’s his job,” I finally say, and I’m not sure if I’m saying it as a simple explanation or if I’m trying to defend him. If it’s the latter, I don’t know if I’m defending him from Hunter, or from myself. Without thinking, I hand over another truth. “I wish it wasn’t.”

Hunter sighs as he begins trailing his fingertips up and down my arm. “Have you told him?”

“No. I—” I stop, wondering how to explain it without giving things away. I can’t tell him I feel like a hypocrite asking him not to go save people when he saved me. I settle with, “I understand why he feels like he needs to.”

“Hefeelslike he needs to, or heactuallyneeds to?” he asks, and even though he doesn’t know the situation, he knows Maison. He’s got his number. I’d feel sorry for my boyfriend if Iwasn’t so fucking relieved that Hunter is on the case. As long as Maison lets him be, that is.

I don’t have an answer to the question anyway. The whole survivor’s guilt thing makes it messy.

He doesn’t seem to be waiting for an answer anyway, just stroking my arm and pressing a kiss to my hair every so often.

Eventually, he says, “You’re not going to be able to fall back asleep, are you?”

“No, sir.”

“Let’s go watch something, then. Cuddle up on the couch. Take our minds off things.”

I have my doubts that it’ll work, but I go along with it anyway. It’s not like it can get any worse than how I’m feeling now. I pull out of his arms, sitting up and turning to look down at him. The rising sun is just high enough for him to be illuminated in muted blues and grays. He looks ruffled and sleepy and warm. That heaviness in my chest fades a little. It’s impossible for it not to, looking at him.

He looks right back, eyes taking in my face and down my neck and over my naked chest and stomach. When he brings his gaze to mine, his hand reaches out. His fingertips are warm and soft as he brushes hair off my forehead. He smiles, and it’s subdued like he’s worrying about the same things as me, but it’s reluctantly happy, too. It’s not hard to smile back.

“Come on. We should eat something. I have a feeling it’s going to be a long day.” He tosses our blankets to the side, stretching lazily. “I’ll make coffee while you whip up something delicious for us, deal?”

I manage a small laugh. “It definitely won’t be the other way around, sir.”

“Hey, now.” He tries to look hurt, but his smile breaks through, ruining the act. “Those pancakes weren’t so bad!”

“True. Still, you stick to the coffee. You’re just so great at making it, you know?”

His smile becomes more of a smirk. “Pouring water and coffee grounds into a machine and waiting for them to be black liquid? Yes, I’m an expert. I feel so honored you’ve noticed.”

“It’s good that you stay humble, sir.”

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