Chapter 23
Jada
Once the idea of leaving was in my head, I couldn’t seem to shake it. I wished I’d gone out the front door, grabbing my coat on the way. If I wanted to make a run for it, I’d have to go all the way around, and even then—what was I going to do? Steal Hunter’s truck? The thought was almost laughable. Almost.
I shoved my hands into the sleeves of my sweater, curling my fingers into the soft fabric like I could anchor myself. I should go back to Denver. Back to whatever was left of my life. Back to my car, my apartment—if I still had one. I hadn’t even gotten all the details from Jace.
I had to go. But how?
I couldn’t just disappear without a word. Not after everything Hunter had done. Not after the people inside had—God help me—started treating me like I belonged here.
But I couldn’t stay either.
A soft scuff of boots against gravel sent a jolt of panic through me. I whirled, my pulse slamming against my ribs, but it wasn’t Hunter.
It was Evelyn.
Lucas’s wife stood just outside the lodge’s back door on the porch, my jacket crossed over her arms, her expression calm. If she was surprised to find me sneaking around outside like some kind of runaway, she didn’t show it.
“Everything okay?” she asked, her voice quiet but firm. She held out my jacket.
I walked back to her and took it, forcing a nod, shifting my weight from foot to foot like I could outrun the conversation. “Yeah. Just needed some air. No need to worry.” I offered a tight smile. “Didn’t mean to set off an alarm or anything.”
Evelyn didn’t react to my obvious deflection. She stepped forward, her gaze steady. “I don’t know you very well, Jada. But from where I was standing, it looked like you were about to bolt.”
A humorless laugh escaped me before I could stop it. “With no memory, I don’t know myself either.”
She didn’t so much as blink at the bitterness in my tone, just studied me for a long moment. The silence stretched between us, and something about the way she looked at me made my throat tighten. As if she wasn’t just seeing me—she was understanding me. And I hated that.
Because I couldn’t understand myself.
I turned away, staring out at the darkness beyond the lodge, wishing I could disappear into it. “I don’t belong here,” I admitted finally. The words tasted like defeat. “I was actually planning to take off.” I gestured vaguely toward the front of the lodge, let out a small, humorless huff. “But I can’t even do that right, seeing as I don’t have a car.”
There it was. The ugly truth. I’d been ready to run. Again.
Even after everything Hunter had done for me. After everything these people had given me—kindness, safety, a place to exist without judgment—I still couldn’t let myself have it.
Evelyn nodded, like I’d just confirmed something she already knew. “I get it.”
“Yeah? Somehow I doubt that.”
She didn’t argue. She didn’t tell me I was wrong. She just sat down on the wooden bench beside the lodge and looked up at me expectantly. “Then let me tell you a story.”
And somehow, against all logic, I found myself sitting down next to her.
“First things first,” she said. “If you really want to leave, I’ll make sure you have a way. A ride, a vehicle—whatever you need. You don’t have to stay here just because you feel stuck.”
“You’d really do that?” I asked, my voice quieter than I intended.
She nodded. “Of course.”
I swallowed hard and looked away, my hands twisting in my lap. “I don’t know why that makes me want to cry.”
Evelyn gave me a knowing smile. “Maybe because you expected judgment instead of understanding.”
I forced a breath out through my nose, not sure how to respond to that.
“I do understand, Jada,” she continued. “More than you think.” She glanced back toward the lodge, where the warm glow of light spilled through the windows. “When I first showed up at Resting Warrior, I kept trying to run, too. I was convinced the trouble I left behind would follow me. That I wasn’t safe. That I wasn’t good enough to be here.”
That caught my attention. I turned to her, frowning. “What kind of trouble?”
“An ex who didn’t take ‘no’ well.” She exhaled slowly, as if remembering the weight of that fear. “For a long time, I was convinced that if I let myself rest, if I let people in, I’d be putting them in danger. So I kept my distance, kept my walls up. But Lucas…he saw right through it.”
She paused, closed her eyes, and wrapped her hand around a ring hanging from a chain around her neck.
“He talked me into staying,” Evelyn continued. “And I thank God every day that he did.” Her voice softened. “He’s my hero. My soul mate. If I had run, I would’ve never discovered that truth.”
I looked away quickly, my stomach twisting.
Evelyn let the silence settle before saying, “Could Hunter be that for you?”
A sharp pang shot through my chest, so sudden and fierce I almost flinched. “It’s not the same,” I murmured.
“Maybe not,” she agreed. “But maybe it’s more similar than you think.”
I let out a shaky breath, staring down at my hands. “I have feelings for him,” I admitted. The words felt too big, too heavy, but they were true. “But everything is so screwed up right now. I shouldn’t be in his life at all.”
“Why not? He doesn’t seem to feel that way.”
I let out a bitter laugh and stood, pacing a few steps away from the bench. “Because it’s selfish. It’s unfair.” I ran a hand through my hair, my fingers tangling in the strands. “Hunter has enough to deal with. His PTSD, whatever history he has with this place, whatever the hell he’s trying to figure out about his future. He doesn’t need me adding to the mess.”
Evelyn tilted her head, watching me carefully. “I remember feeling that way,” she said. “When I first got here, I was convinced I was a burden. That I was bringing danger, baggage—things that had no place at Resting Warrior.” She smiled faintly. “But this land helped heal me. Lucas helped heal me. And I wouldn’t trade that for anything.”
I stopped pacing, my arms crossing over my chest. “That’s different.”
“Why?”
I opened my mouth, but the words stuck. I exhaled sharply, forcing them out. “Because your wounds were inflicted on you. Mine were inflicted on another person by me. An innocent person.”
Evelyn was quiet, waiting. Sensing my struggle.
I gestured toward the lodge. “Even the name of this place makes it clear I don’t belong here. Resting Warrior. You don’t have to be a genius to figure out what that means. This place is for warriors. Heroes. People who’ve done good in this world and need a place to heal and find peace.”
I swallowed hard, my throat burning. “I am not that. I don’t deserve peace. And I sure as hell am not a hero.”
The words hung between us, thick with the weight of my guilt. Evelyn shifted slightly, her expression unreadable, like she was sifting through her thoughts, trying to figure out what to say.
A voice cut through the thick silence. “Can I talk to Jada?”
I froze, my breath hitching. Hunter.
Evelyn exhaled softly, like she’d been expecting him. She pushed to her feet, her gaze flicking between us before settling on me. “My offer stands,” she said simply. “If you decide you want to leave, I’ll make sure you can.”
I barely nodded before she turned and headed back to the lodge, her boots crunching against the gravel. A moment later, the door swung shut behind her, leaving me alone with Hunter.
I forced myself to meet his eyes. “How much did you hear?”
“Pretty much all of it.” His voice was rough, edged with something I couldn’t name. “Definitely heard that you want to leave.”
Guilt crashed into me, sharp and immediate. “Hunter?—”
“Don’t.” He crossed the space between us in three long strides and yanked me into his arms.
I stiffened, my hands pressing against his chest, but he didn’t let go.
“I get it,” he murmured, his breath warm against my hair. “I get how impossible it is to be around good people when you know you’re not the same kind of good.” He inhaled deeply, his grip tightening. “How every smile, every touch, every time they pull you in, it just makes the weight of it worse. Until it’s all a mess of misery.”
My chest squeezed, because yes.
Because every moment in this place, every piece of kindness I’d been given, every small act of forgiveness—it only made the guilt worse.
I pushed at his chest, but he didn’t let go. “Hunter, you’re not like me.”
His hands slid to my face, cupping my cheeks, forcing me to look at him. “I’m not?” His voice was quiet, almost deadly. “I’ve killed people, Jada.”
I swallowed hard. “You were a soldier.”
“That’s not all.” His eyes searched mine, shadows pooling in their depths. “The darkness in me? It was there before I joined. It’s been there since I left.” His voice dropped lower. “I killed two people the night I found you in that cabin.”
I stiffened.
“Yes, they were bad guys,” he continued, watching me. “But I didn’t have to kill them. I could’ve found another way.”
I shook my head. “That’s still not the same.”
His hands settled on my shoulders. “Why?”
I exhaled sharply, my pulse pounding. “Because the people you killed deserved it.” My voice cracked. “Who I tried to hurt was good. Kenzie is good. ”
Hunter let out a slow exhale, his fingers gliding down my arms before he eased back just enough to look me in the eyes. The weight of his gaze was steady, grounding. He cupped my face again, his thumbs brushed lightly over my cheekbones, and something about the tenderness of the touch made my chest feel too tight.
“Let me ask you something,” he said quietly. “Despite everything I just told you—about what I’ve done, who I am—do you think I should take the Warrior Security job?”
The question caught me off guard. I blinked up at him, startled, but I didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
His expression didn’t change, but I felt the way his body tensed. “Why?”
“Because this place is good for you.” My voice was firm, absolute. “You have the skills for it, the experience. But more than that, you have them. Lucas, Daniel, the rest of the guys. They get you in a way most people don’t. Resting Warrior has everything you need to rebuild your life the way you want to.”
Hunter studied me for a long moment, his jaw ticking like he was weighing something heavy in his mind. Then he tilted his head, his thumbs still brushing slow, absent circles over my skin. “And if I think this place could do the same for you? If I think you could rebuild something here, become the person you want to be, not the person you used to be?”
My breath caught.
He kept going, voice steady. “Would you consider staying? I know it’s too soon to be talking about permanence. But somehow, that doesn’t matter to me. I saw you in that cabin that night, and something about you called to me.” His green eyes locked on mine. “You were mine from the beginning.”
My stomach flipped, but my head was a mess of contradictions. “Hunter,” I whispered, shaking my head. “We don’t even know each other.”
His lips quirked, but it wasn’t amusement—it was something softer, something weighted with understanding. “We don’t even know ourselves ,” he countered. “But maybe we figure it out together.”
Something in my chest cracked wide open. Maybe it was the certainty in his voice. Maybe it was the way he said we. Like I wasn’t alone in this anymore.
Somehow, against all logic, it made perfect sense. I rose onto my toes, slid my fingers into the back of his hair, and kissed him. It wasn’t tentative. It wasn’t careful. It was an answer.
When I pulled back, my voice was barely more than a whisper. “Take me home.”
He didn’t say a word as he fairly dragged me around the lodge out to the front. I would’ve thought he was angry if I didn’t know better.
I knew better.
I was glad he didn’t take us through the house. As kind as everyone had been, I didn’t want to talk to them right now. I only wanted Hunter.
The short drive to the cabin was made in silence, the tension strung out between us delicious and almost tangible.
Once we got into the cabin, Hunter didn’t hesitate. His mouth crashed against mine, swallowing whatever breath I had left. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t careful. It was desperate, raw, like something inside him had finally snapped. Like he’d been holding back for too long and couldn’t anymore.
I felt the same way.
I gripped the front of his shirt, fisting the fabric, holding on like he was the only thing keeping me upright. Maybe he was. My knees were already weak, my body already shaking, my heart slamming into my ribs like it was trying to break free.
Hunter growled low in his throat, lifting me with an ease that made my stomach flip. My legs wrapped around his waist on instinct, my back hitting the doorframe as he pressed me against it. The wood was cold, solid, but all I could feel was him. His hands sliding up my thighs, gripping tight. His mouth moving over mine, hot and demanding. His body, all muscle and heat, pinning me there, making me feel like running wasn’t even an option anymore.
I didn’t want to run.
I wanted this. Him.
Somehow, we made it inside, stumbling through the dark, knocking into walls, the edge of a table. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. My sweater was gone, lost somewhere in the chaos. His shirt? Torn over his head, discarded before we even made it to the bedroom.
By the time we did, I was breathless, my skin burning, my fingers desperate as they worked at the buckle of his belt. He didn’t stop me. He didn’t slow down. He just kept touching, kissing, claiming me like I was something he was never going to let go of.
And God, I didn’t want him to.
We hit the mattress in a tangle of limbs, the air between us thick with heat, hunger, something bigger than either of us could name. I arched against him, my body aching for more, my pulse pounding in my ears as his mouth trailed lower, setting fire to every inch of skin he touched.
I let out a surprised gasp as he flipped me over and pulled me to the edge of the bed. I heard him slip on protection, then he bent over me, his breath warming the nape of my neck as his chest pressed against my back.
“No running. Do you understand me?” he whispered, his voice rough with desire.
I nodded, my fingers clutching the sheets, knuckles white with anticipation. The solid warmth of him behind me sent shivers cascading down my spine.
I gasped as he slid inside me slowly, stretching me, the sensation overwhelming in its intensity. An inch at a time, he eased in, driving us both insane. I tried to push back, get him to move faster, but he held my hips firm, moving at the speed he wanted. By the time he’d seated himself to the hilt, I was panting with my face against the mattress.
“Please.” I wasn’t even sure what I was begging for.
“Say it, out loud. No running.” His deep voice was in my ear again, and I could feel myself twitching around the hot length of him.
“No running.” I gasped. “No running.”
He straightened, hands gripping my hips once more, then pulled all the way out before slamming back into me. I couldn’t stop my sob at the mix between pleasure and beautiful pain. Then he did it again. Slowly all the way out, just to slam back into me.
And again.
“You’re mine.” He fisted my hair and held me in place as I arched back against him, stopping all movement. “Say it.”
“Please.” I couldn’t so much as even wiggle my hips, he held me so tightly. I could only submit to whatever he wanted to give.
“Say it, Jada.” His fingers tightened once more.
“Yours. I’m yours.” The words came out in a sob as he let himself go, driving into me over and over and over. All I could do was feel his power as he made me his.
“Let go for me,” he commanded, his voice strained.
The tension inside me coiled tighter, hotter, until it finally shattered. I cried out his name as waves of release washed over me. Hunter followed moments later, his body shuddering against mine as we both collapsed onto the bed.
There was no running after this. There was no turning back. Hunter Everett wasn’t just someone I wanted.
He was mine.