Page 20 of Curvy Girl and the Mountain Man Wolf
He pauses, and I can see him somewhere else, somewhere far away and dark.
"It was supposed to be clean. In and out. But the warlord had children there. Young boys, no more than Lily's age. We didn't know. Didn't plan for it." His voice catches slightly. "Things went wrong. Very wrong. The warlord used one of the children as a shield. My teammate hesitated. Got shot. And I... I didn't hesitate."
My breath catches as I understand what he's not saying.
"I completed the mission," he continues, his voice hollow. "But in the process, one of the children was killed. Not by me directly, but because of my actions, my decisions. Because I didn't stop, didn't think, just reacted."
"Kane," I whisper, his name a lament.
"After that, I couldn't... function. Couldn't be around people. Something in me broke, or maybe it was already broken and I just finally saw it. I was honorably discharged. PTSD, they called it. But it was more than that. It was knowing what I was capable of."
He looks up at me then, his gray eyes filled with a pain so raw that I’m speechless. No words can help him.
"That's why I'm here. Why I live alone. Because I'm dangerous, Lois. Because there's something in me that can't always tell the difference between threats and innocents when the adrenaline hits. Because I can't trust myself around people."
My heart races, but not with fear—with recognition. Here is someone who understands what it means to run from yourself, to isolate to protect others.
"I understand," I say softly. "More than you might think."
His expression is skeptical, disbelieving.
"After I left Lily's father, I couldn't... be around men. Any men. I'd panic if someone stood too close on the bus, or if a male colleague closed the office door for a meeting. I took Lily and moved to a new city where no one knew us, where I could control every interaction, maintain distance. I built walls around us both."
The tears I've been holding back begin to fall, silent tracks down my cheeks. "Derek was the first man I tried to let in after years of isolation. I thought I was ready. I thought I'd healed enough. But I kept him at arm's length, never fully trusted him. Maybe that's why he turned to Sarah. Maybe I'm just... broken in a way that can't be fixed."
"You're not broken," Kane says with such conviction that my tears flow faster. "You're protecting yourself. There's nothing wrong with that."
"Isn't there? I ran away rather than face them. Packed up my child in the middle of the night and drove into a blizzard because I couldn't bear to stay one more day in that apartment, couldn'tbear to have the conversations, the confrontations. What kind of example am I setting for Lily?"
"The kind that shows her she doesn't have to stay in situations that hurt her," Kane says immediately. "The kind that shows her she's worth more than someone else's betrayal."
His words pierce straight through me, unlocking something that's been tightly wound in my chest since the moment I saw Derek and Sarah together. A sob escapes before I can stop it, and then another.
"I'm so tired," I admit, the words breaking on another sob. "Tired of being strong all the time, of making all the decisions, of being everything for her. I love Lily more than anything, but sometimes I just want... I want someone to share the burden. Someone I can trust. And I'm terrified that person doesn't exist, that I'll never be able to trust anyone enough."
Kane watches me cry but doesn't move to comfort me. Despite that, his presence itself is somehow comforting.
"I'm sorry," I say after a moment, wiping at my tears. "I didn't mean to fall apart on you."
"Don't apologize," he says quietly. "Sometimes falling apart is necessary."
I manage a watery smile. "Is that what you did? When you came here?"
He considers the question, his expression thoughtful. "Yes," he admits. "I came here to fall apart where I couldn't hurt anyone else. To see if there was anything worth salvaging."
"And was there?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
His eyes meet mine, "I thought so. For a while. I found a kind of peace here. A routine. Purpose, of a sort. But lately..."
He trails off, looking away.
"Lately?" I prompt.
"Lately I've been wondering if isolation is really living, or just existing," he finishes, the admission seeming to cost him something. "If there's a difference between protecting others from yourself and hiding from the possibility of redemption."
The words resonate through me like a bell being struck. Isn't that what I've been doing too? Hiding Lily and myself away, telling myself it's for protection when really it's fear driving my decisions? Fear of being hurt again, yes, but also fear of trying and failing, of opening myself up only to discover I'm still too damaged to connect.
"Maybe we're both hiding," I suggest softly.
