Page 58 of The Art of You

“I wish you’d told me this years ago. I could’ve helped. You’ve been carrying this a long fucking time.”

“We were under orders to keep our mouths shut. The families knew the truth, of course. We’d never tolerate them being lied to. But Command believed if the media was aware our SEALs walked into a trap, it’d look like too much of a win for the Taliban. Help boost their morale and recruitmentnumbers.”Partially true, maybe, but still.“Politicians were doing what they do, just trying to save their asses.”

“A hundred percent.” He squared up his stance again, locking his arms across his chest. “They ever get the men responsible for what happened?”

“Yeah, it took them about five months to track them down, but they did. I was already out, taking care of my mom. Shortly after, she died, and?—”

“My sister was murdered.” His words fell flat right between us.

“It was a bad twelve months.”Understatement of the year.I’d been carrying those months with me every day like a nightmare that wouldn’t quit.

“I knew you were upset back then, and rightfully so, but guilt is a whole other animal.” His forehead tightened, eyes flashing to the bathroom door before meeting mine again. “I understand now. I get why you haven’t been able to?—”

“Everything okay?” Enzo interrupted us, drawing our attention to where he stood in the doorway now.

“Yeah, it’s fine.” I clamped down on my back teeth. “We’ll be right there.” My eyes were probably bloodshot. But somehow, I did feel better getting this off my chest.

Constantine nodded at him, letting him know it was okay to leave.

“Take a few minutes, then meet us in the kitchen,” Constantine said once it was just us again. He added in a low, unwavering voice, “I’m sure my sister is dying to hug you right now.” He angled his head toward the bathroom. “Don’t let me stand in the way.”

Chapter 23

Isabella

I assumedthe silence in the bedroom was my cue to open the door.

Hudson was quietly standing there waiting for me—quite literally a heartbeat away—his good arm up, hand braced against the doorframe, his other hidden inside the pocket of his sweatpants.

“How much did you hear?”

I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around his waist as my answer.All of it. Every painful word.I waited for him to hug me back. And when he finally did, I cried out between sniffles, “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

One hand lazily stroked up and down my back as he tried to soothe me. It should’ve been the other way around. But he was always taking care of me, protecting me, making sure I was comforted.

“I’m okay, I promise.” With his other hand, he reached between us for my chin, commanding my eyes up. “I’m tough. Don’t you worry about me.”

“Don’t ask me to do the impossible.” I whispered the same words he’d said to me in the hospital.

His eyes were red but not glossy from unshed tears. “And what’s that?” he asked, turning my question back on me.

“To not worry about you,” I murmured.

He brought my face back to his chest, both strong arms firmly snug around my body. The human version of my Rugby bear.

He cupped my head, shushing me. Calming me. That was supposed to be my job. I had to stop ugly crying. My tears wouldn’t help ease his pain any more than they’d solve world peace.

Giving myself only a minute to let go, I forced myself to zip up my emotions. I’d save them for tonight, when I was alone in bed. “I never would’ve come to your room like this had I known there was so much weighing on your mind.”

He pulled away, searching for my face again. His hands rested comfortably on my hips as we stood in the doorway. “Remind me what your intentions were again.”

Oh, he remembered, but for some reason he wanted me to repeat them. My gaze fell to the barrier between the two rooms. His feet were on the other side, mine still in the bathroom. The wood threshold between us felt like a fragile barrier I refused to examine. “To tease you,” I relented. “I’m sorry.”

Cradling my chin again, his silent demand for my eyes overwhelmed me, and I submitted. The shivering from my sadness morphed into a different kind. His hard jaw strained like a blade of steel covered in sexy scruff. “No apology needed.”

Why’d I feel like that wasn’t what he’d planned to say, but he’d chosen the safer route?

“We should probably go. Your brothers have news.”

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