6. Felicity
FELICITY
Ihadn’t realized how exhausted I was until someone stopped asking me to survive alone.
That was the dangerous thing about Hersh.
Not Blaze.
Not the respected Ranger standing inside the Last Stand Tavern while everyone around him quietly followed his lead, treating me like I was his responsibility.
Hersh.
He made me remember what safe used to feel like.
And after seventeen months of constantly looking over my shoulder?
That feeling was almost enough to break me.
Michael stood beside the bar asking questions about the house, but my focus kept drifting toward Hersh.
Toward the way he watched everything.
The windows.
The doors.
The people inside the tavern.
Me.
Especially me.
Like he still couldn’t quite believe I was standing here.
Truthfully?
Neither could I.
Trigger handed Michael a cup of coffee before moving toward the front entrance again.
Quiet.
Alert.
No one in the tavern acted panicked.
That somehow made everything feel even more serious.
Because these men clearly knew danger.
And none of them were dismissing this.
Michael glanced toward me again. “Did you notice anything unusual before today?”
I almost laughed.
My entire life was unusual.
“I don’t know,” I admitted quietly. “I barely sleep anymore.”
Hersh’s expression tightened instantly at that.
Damn him for still reacting to every crack in my voice.
Michael scribbled something in a small notebook. “Nightmares?”
I hesitated.
Then nodded once.
Because lying suddenly felt pointless.
Not with Hersh standing ten feet away watching me like he could see every secret I carried.
“I hear things,” I admitted softly. “Cars slowing outside. Footsteps. Doors.”
My throat tightened. “I’m sure it’s all in my mind.”
“Sometimes I wake up convinced someone’s standing over my bed.”
Silence settled heavily around the tavern.
Michael’s face hardened with guilt.
Trigger looked away toward the windows again.
But Hersh?
Hersh looked furious.
Not at me.
At the thought of me living like that.
And somehow that was worse.
Because nobody had looked angry for me ever.
“Hersh,” I whispered before I could stop myself.
His eyes lifted instantly.
Always instantly.
God.
That hurt.
“You’re doing it again,” I said quietly.
“What?”
“Looking at me like that.”
His brow furrowed slightly.
“Like what?”
“Like you want to fix everything.”
The entire room went still.
Michael suddenly became very interested in his coffee.
Trigger moved farther away on purpose.
Leaving us space.
Smart men.
Hersh held my gaze for one long second before answering quietly:
“Maybe I do.”
My chest physically hurt.
Because sixteen years disappeared from his voice when he said it.
I looked away first.
Couldn’t help it.
If I kept looking at him, I was going to break.
Michael cleared his throat softly. “Felicity, we should probably discuss moving you again.”
“No.”
The word came out immediately.
Firm.
Certain.
Everyone looked at me.
I swallowed hard but stood my ground.
“I’m not running again.”
Michael sighed. “You may not have a choice.”
“I’m tired of living out of bags.”
“You think I don’t understand that?”
“No,” I snapped before I could stop myself. “I don’t think you do.”
Silence.
Heavy.
Painful.
I wrapped my arms tighter around myself, suddenly cold.
“You get to go home after this,” I whispered. “You get to sleep in your own bed. You get to have friends and a life and people who know your real name.”
My eyes burned instantly.
“I don’t even know who I am anymore.”
Why did I say that out loud?
The humiliation hit a second later.
I looked away quickly.
But not before I saw Hersh’s entire expression change.
That look again.
Like hearing me hurt physically hurt him too.
“Hey,” he said quietly.
That one word nearly undid me all over again.
Gentle.
Careful.
The same way he used to say it when I got overwhelmed studying for finals or crying over my father or scared about the future.
Like he could somehow steady me just by speaking softly.
My laugh came out shaky. “You really need to stop doing that.”
His voice lowered even more. “Doing what?”
“Sounding like home.”
The words slipped out before I could stop them.
The second they landed, regret slammed into me.
Michael looked away instantly.
Trigger muttered something under his breath and disappeared toward the kitchen.
Cowards.
Leaving me here alone with the emotional disaster I’d just created.
Hersh stared at me like I’d knocked the air out of him.
And maybe I had.
Because he swolled once before he finally spoke.
“Flick…”
Nobody called me that anymore.
Nobody except him.
The sound of it nearly shattered the last wall I had left.
I stood abruptly. “I need some air.”
Absolutely not.
I saw the refusal in Hersh’s face before he even moved.
“You’re not going outside alone.”
Frustration finally burst through my fear. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”
“I do when somebody might be hunting you.”
“You barely know what’s happening.”
“I know enough.”
“No,” I snapped. “You know the girl I used to be.”
That landed.
Hard.
Pain flashed across his face before he buried it.
But I saw it.
God help me, I still saw everything when it came to him.
The tavern suddenly felt too small.
Too warm.
Too full of memories that hadn’t belonged to me in sixteen years.
“I need a minute,” I whispered.
Hersh stepped closer slowly.
Not crowding me.
Just close enough that I could feel the heat coming off him.
“You got one,” he said quietly. “But you’re not alone anymore.”
That nearly destroyed me.
Because the terrifying part?
Some broken piece of my heart wanted to believe him.