Page 40 of Carter
Damn it.
My fist curled tight against the wood, knuckles whitening. Every instinct screamed to keep her locked away, to carry the fight on my own shoulders like I’d done a thousand times before. That was who I was. That was what I knew.
But this wasn’t a warzone where civilians were faceless dots on a grid. This was Harper. And every time I tried to draw the line between protecting her and controlling her, I saw the same thing in her eyes—disappointment. Distance.
I couldn’t lose her to a bullet.
But I couldn’t lose her to mistrust either.
River’s chair scraped back. He stood, studying me with that quiet weight he carried. “You can’t keep her in the dark forever, Carter. She’s not the type to stay behind.”
I didn’t answer, jaw locked tight.
Gideon leaned in, his tone blunt. “She deserves more than walls and orders. You love her—so let her stand with you. Otherwise, when this is over, you’ll have saved her body but lost her heart.”
Their words cut, sharper than any blade. Because they weren’t wrong.
I dragged a hand over my face, the rough scrape of stubble grounding me. I thought of Harper’s hand in mine, of her whisper in the SUV—Don’t die for me. Live with me.
And I realized the truth.
Protecting her didn’t mean smothering her. It meant finding a way to fight this together, even if it tore me apart inside.
I pushed away from the table, my decision heavy but clear.
If Harper wanted the truth, she’d get it. All of it.
But God help me, if it put her in more danger than she already was, I didn’t know if I could live with myself.
56
Harper
Isat on the edge of the bed, the silence pressing heavy around me. The cabin walls felt close, every shadow reminding me I was locked away while Carter mapped out how to fight the war with my name stamped all over it.
I hated the way it made me feel—helpless, small. But underneath the anger was something worse: the ache of knowing he didn’t trust me enough to stand with him.
The floor creaked in the hall. I lifted my head just as Carter filled the doorway, broad shoulders framed by dim light. He looked… haunted. The soldier still bristled under his skin, but his eyes—God, his eyes—were tired, torn.
“Harper,” he said, his voice low, rough.
I pulled the flannel tighter around me, bracing for another order, anotherstay put.“If you’re here to tell me again that I can’t be part of this—”
“I’m not.” His tone cut me off, firm but soft.
He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. For a long moment, he just stood there, staring at me like I was both his salvation and the thing breaking him apart. Then hesank down on the bed beside me, his hands restless before they finally found mine.
“I’ve been wrong,” he admitted, his voice raw. “Thinking I could keep you safe by keeping you out. That’s not what you need. Hell, it’s not whatweneed.”
My throat tightened. “So what now?”
He lifted his gaze, and the weight in his eyes nearly undid me. “Now I tell you everything. No more half-truths. No more shutting you out. If you’re in this with me, then you’rein it.”
The words knocked the breath out of me. For days I’d felt like a ghost in my own story—hunted but silent, alive but powerless. And now, finally, he was pulling me into the fire instead of trying to shield me from it.
I squeezed his hand, tears stinging my eyes. “That’s all I wanted, Carter. Not to be hidden. To be trusted.”
He leaned in, pressing his forehead to mine, his breath hot and steady. “You have my trust. All of it. But I need you to promise me something too.”
