Chapter 8
The Heart Beneath the Leather
The first nightmare came just after two in the morning.
I woke to the sound of something crashing against wood.
For one disoriented second, I thought the compound was under attack.
Then I heard it again.
A muffled groan.
Another violent thud.
It came from Titan's bedroom.
I threw off the blanket and hurried down the hallway.
The bedroom door stood partially open.
Moonlight spilled through the windows, illuminating a scene that stopped me cold.
Titan was still asleep.
Or at least his body was.
His enormous frame twisted violently beneath the sheets as though fighting an invisible enemy. Sweat soaked his shirt despite the cool mountain air. His breathing came in short, painful bursts.
"No..."
The word escaped him like a plea.
"No... Noah..."
Another violent movement sent the bedside lamp crashing to the floor.
His fist struck the mattress with enough force to shake the bed.
He wasn't dreaming.
He was reliving something.
I hesitated in the doorway.
Every instinct told me to leave.
Instead, I stepped closer.
"Titan?"
No response.
His face tightened with unbearable grief.
"I'm sorry..."
Another whisper.
"I tried..."
The raw agony in those two words broke something inside me.
This wasn't the legendary enforcer feared across three states.
This was a man trapped inside memories he couldn't escape.
"Titan."
I spoke more firmly.
His breathing only grew harsher.
Doc's words returned to me.
Night terrors.
She had mentioned them in passing but never explained how bad they could become.
I reached out, then stopped.
He hated being touched.
He had spent an entire week avoiding even accidental contact.
Would waking him this way make everything worse?
Another cry answered the question for me.
Very carefully, I rested my hand against his forearm.
"Titan."
Nothing.
I squeezed gently.
"Thomas."
His eyes flew open.
In a single terrifying movement, he was out of bed.
Years of instinct took over before consciousness did.
He caught my wrist.
Not painfully.
Just fast.
The moment recognition replaced confusion, he released me so abruptly that he stepped backward as though he had burned himself.
His face drained of color.
"I'm..."
His voice failed.
"I'm sorry."
"You didn't hurt me."
"I grabbed you."
"You were asleep."
"I grabbed you."
The shame in his voice hurt more than the grip ever could.
He looked away.
"I told you I'd never let that happen."
"It was a nightmare."
"It doesn't matter."
"It matters to me."
Silence settled over the room.
Finally, I asked the question neither of us wanted to ask.
"Who's Noah?"
For a long time, he simply stared out the window.
When he finally spoke, his voice barely rose above a whisper.
"My little brother."
"The one in the photograph?"
He nodded.
"He died when we were teenagers."
I waited.
He had spent days saying as little as possible about himself.
Tonight, the silence finally gave way.
"We were placed in different foster homes."
His jaw tightened.
"I promised I'd find him."
"You did."
"Too late."
He closed his eyes.
"He got mixed up with people who promised him family."
The word family sounded almost bitter.
"When I finally tracked him down..."
He stopped.
I didn't interrupt.
"...he'd already been shot."
The room became impossibly still.
"I held him while he died."
The confession landed with quiet devastation.
"I couldn't save him."
The giant everyone feared looked suddenly smaller somehow.
Not in size.
In spirit.
As though grief had been pressing down on his shoulders for decades.
"I've blamed myself every day since."
"You were just a kid."
"I was his brother."
"You couldn't control everything."
"I should have."
He laughed once.
The sound carried no humor.
"That's the problem."
"What is?"
"I've spent my whole life believing that if I were stronger..."
He looked at his hands.
"...bigger..."
Then toward the scars crossing his knuckles.
"...more violent..."
His voice nearly disappeared.
"...the people I loved would still be alive."
The words lingered between us.
I understood something then that no one else seemed to see.
Titan wasn't driven by anger.
He was driven by guilt.
Violence had never become his identity.
It had become his apology to a past he couldn't change.
I crossed the room until I stood beside him.
"You know what I think?"
He looked at me.
"I think your brother would've been proud of you."
His eyes searched mine.
"You don't know that."
"I know the man standing in front of me."
"The world doesn't."
"The world sees a giant."
I smiled faintly.
"I see the man who repaired a roof in the middle of a storm so a stranger wouldn't sleep beneath a collapsing ceiling."
His expression softened.
"The man who refuses to touch a woman unless she's comfortable."
He said nothing.
"The man who stayed beside my hospital bed until he knew I'd survive."
His breathing slowed.
"The man who keeps his mother's books because he can't bear to forget her."
His gray eyes glistened.
Just slightly.
Enough for me to notice.
No one would ever believe it if I told them.
The feared Titan looked close to tears.
Without thinking, I reached for his hand.
This time he didn't pull away.
His scarred fingers remained still beneath mine.
"They're not the hands of a monster."
He looked down at our joined hands.
"They've done terrible things."
"They've also saved lives."
"They've taken lives."
"They've protected people."
A long silence followed.
Then he asked quietly,
"How can you look at me and see anything good?"
I smiled sadly.
"Because someone once looked at me and only saw evidence."
His gaze met mine again.
For the first time since we'd met, neither of us felt like strangers.
The walls between us had begun to crumble.
Slowly.
Carefully.
One truth at a time.
Outside, the wind stirred the pine trees.
Inside, neither of us noticed how close we had moved.
I looked up.
He looked down.
Neither of us spoke.
There was no dramatic declaration.
No reckless surrender.
Only a moment suspended between fear and hope.
I rose onto my toes.
He didn't move.
My lips brushed his.
Softly.
Tentatively.
Barely more than a whisper.
For one heartbeat, the world disappeared.
Then I stepped back.
Shock flashed across both our faces.
"I..."
"I shouldn't have..."
We spoke at the same time.
An awkward silence followed.
Titan looked as though he no longer knew what to do with his hands.
I had no idea what to do with mine.
Finally, he let out a quiet breath.
"I've waited years to know what peace felt like."
His voice was low, almost reverent.
"And somehow..."
His eyes never left mine.
"...it wasn't a battle that gave it to me."
A warmth spread through my chest that had nothing to do with embarrassment.
Neither of us kissed again.
Neither of us needed to.
The first kiss wasn't unforgettable because it was passionate.
It was unforgettable because, for the first time in years, two broken souls discovered that healing could begin with something as simple as being seen.