Page 76 of Hero Mine

The silence stretched between them, filled only with the sound of her slightly ragged breathing and the distant hum of the refrigerator downstairs.

“It’s okay,” Bear murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You don’t have to?—”

“No, I need to say it.” Joy took a steadying breath. “It wasn’t just the pain, Bear. It was…feeling helpless. I’ve never felt that way before. Like I couldn’t do anything. Couldn’t protect myself, couldn’t protect Sloane, couldn’t even stay conscious.”

Bear closed his eyes, his heart aching for her. To have that taken from her, to be rendered helpless—he understood why that was the part that haunted her most.

“I was entertainment for them. They were hurting me for the pure enjoyment of it. Jakob was fixated on my smile.Let’s see how that smile would look without your teeth. Your smile would make a wonderful trophy. Such a shame to see that smile wasted on a corpse.He said all that. It was like hearing it from underwater.”

Because of the pain. The fear. The damage to her body. Vomit pooled in Bear’s gut. No wonder smiling had been so hard for her since the attack.

“They left me to die.” Her voice was a whisper now. She shook her head. “And the worst part is, I thought the same thing. I really thought I was going to die there on the floor. That I’d failed Sloane. That her baby would die because I hadn’t been strong enough or smart enough to help.”

“Joy—”

“And I hate even saying that to you,” she rushed on, struggling to sit up now, pulling away from him. The sheet fell to her waist, leaving her bare in the moonlight, but she didn’t seem to notice. “I know what you went through. The explosion, your scars, your hearing. My wounds ended up being relatively minor in the end. I shouldn’t be this messed up over?—”

“Stop.” Bear sat up too, gently turning her to face him. The moonlight caught the curve of her shoulder, the line of her collarbone. Even now, in the midst of this heavy conversation, he couldn’t help but notice how beautiful she was. “This isn’t the Pain Olympics. Just because I’ve known pain too doesn’t diminish yours. What happened to you was traumatic. Full stop.”

She stared at him, eyes wide in the darkness.

“You have every right to be affected by it, even now,” he continued, cupping her face in his hands. Her skin was warm beneath his palms, slightly damp with the beginnings of tears she was fighting back. “Hell, I’d be more worried if you weren’t. That wouldn’t be normal.”

Something in her expression shifted—relief, maybe. Like she’d been carrying this guilt all this time, thinking she should be over it by now. That she should be stronger, faster, better.

“I hate feeling that way,” she admitted softly. “Helpless. Like I’m not in control. That’s the part that haunts me.”

“Do you know what haunts me most about the explosion?” he asked, his voice rough with emotion.

She shook her head, eyes still locked with his.

“Not the pain. Not the scars. It was the fact that I couldn’t help the other guys in my unit. That I was pinned under debris, ears ringing so loud I couldn’t hear their calls for help.” He paused, letting the admission sink in. “Being helpless in the face of danger—it’s one of the worst feelings in the world.”

Joy’s lips parted slightly, a flicker of understanding crossing her face.

“So, I get it,” he continued. “I really do. But sweetheart, you didn’t fail.”

She frowned. “Of course I?—”

“No.” His voice was firm. “You were outnumbered. Outweighed. They had weapons. And still, you fought back. You stayed conscious long enough to call 9-1-1.”

Joy’s brow furrowed. “But it took so long to get to my phone. I barely?—”

“But you did it. And because of that call, Sloane is alive. Her baby is alive.” Bear held her gaze steadily. “That’s not failure, Joy. That’s courage. That’s refusing to give up.”

She stared at him, something like hope flickering in her eyes. The moonlight caught the green flecks in them, making them luminous.

“You know what I see when I look at you?” he asked softly.

She shook her head.

“I see someone who’s been through hell and is still standing. Who’s learning to ask for help when she needs it. Who’s finally starting to talk about what happened instead of trying to bury it.” He brushed his thumbs across her cheekbones. “That’s not weakness, Bug. That’s real strength.”

Her eyes glistened in the dim light, but the tears didn’t fall.

“We’ll keep working on your self-defense,” he continued. “You’re already stronger than you were. And honestly? The fact that you’re back in this house tonight is huge.”

“Yeah?” Her voice was small.

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