11. Felicity
FELICITY
What do we do now?
The question hung between us softly.
Dangerously.
Because standing in Hersh’s arms while rain hammered the windows behind us felt a little too much like temptation.
Like hope.
And hope had become terrifying to me.
Hersh looked down at me for a long second before answering.
“First?”
His thumb brushed gently beneath my eye, catching a tear I’d missed.
“We keep you alive.”
My chest tightened painfully.
Not because the words scared me.
Because of how certain he sounded.
Like protecting me wasn’t a burden.
Wasn’t an obligation.
Wasn’t temporary.
Just fact.
The same way storms came.
The same way rivers moved.
Hersh McDougal protected what he loved.
And God help me…
I still wanted to be something he loved.
Even after all this time.
He stepped back just enough to look at me properly.
Not letting go completely.
Never fully letting go.
“Second,” he said quietly, “we figure out who’s getting close enough to scare you.”
Fear flickered low in my stomach again.
Reality.
Right.
Cartel.
Witness protection.
Danger.
Not just heartbreak and old feelings.
“I don’t want anybody getting hurt because of me.”
Hersh’s expression hardened instantly.
“That decision’s not yours.”
“You don’t understand how dangerous these people are.”
“I understand enough.”
No arrogance.
No bravado.
Just calm certainty.
Which honestly scared me a little.
Because Hersh didn’t sound like a man trying to prove himself.
He sounded like a Ranger already preparing for war.
I pulled back enough to study him again.
Really study him.
The broad shoulders.
The rough hands.
The scar near his jaw I didn’t remember.
The quiet control in every movement.
This man had lived an entire life without me.
That realization hurt in a strange new way.
Not jealousy.
Grief.
For all the moments we lost.
“You changed,” I whispered.
One side of his mouth lifted slightly. “Yeah. You too.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
His hand slid slowly down my arm before finally letting go completely.
The loss of warmth hit immediately.
Dangerous.
Very dangerous.
Hersh moved toward the small kitchen counter and grabbed my mug of chocolate before reheating it in the microwave like he’d lived in this apartment forever.
Maybe he had.
The domestic normalcy of it nearly undid me again.
No fear.
No panic.
No tension.
Just Hersh warming my chocolate in the middle of the night while a storm rolled through Texas.
Like this could somehow be normal.
“I used to wonder about you,” I admitted quietly.
He looked over his shoulder immediately.
“Yeah?”
I nodded once.
“When I saw things online about Rangers overseas…” My throat tightened slightly. “Sometimes I’d wonder if you were there.”
His expression softened in a way that was physically painful to look at.
“I looked for your name too.”
Oh God.
I wrapped my arms around myself tighter.
“We really wasted sixteen years.”
“No.”
The word came instantly.
Firm.
Certain.
I frowned slightly. “No?”
Hersh leaned against the counter, watching me carefully.
“We survived sixteen years.”
That landed hard.
Because somehow…
he was right.
Neither of us had moved on completely.
Neither of us had stopped loving the other.
And despite everything?
Some invisible thread had still led me here.
To Eagle River.
To this tavern.
To him.
The microwave beeped softly.
Hersh grabbed my mug and walked it back over to me.
Our fingers brushed again when I took it.
Neither of us reacted.
At least not outwardly.
But I felt it.
Still there.
Still us.
“I should warn you,” I whispered quietly.
His brow furrowed slightly. “About what?”
“I’m kind of a disaster now.”
That earned the faintest huff of amusement from him.
“Flick, you once accidentally microwaved aluminum foil.”
I gasped softly. “That happened one time.”
“You nearly burned your dad’s kitchen down.”
“You swore never to bring that up again.”
“I lied.”
The laugh escaped before I could stop it.
Small.
Real.
Rusty from disuse.
Hersh stared at me afterward like hearing it mattered too much.
Maybe it did.
Because his expression changed slowly.
Not Ranger now.
Not protector.
Just Hersh.
The boy who used to look at me like I hung the damn moon.
My chest tightened painfully.
This was dangerous.
Not the cartel.
Not the witness protection.
This.
Remembering how easy it had always been to love him.
A loud knock suddenly hit the door downstairs.
Both of us reacted instantly.
Every bit of softness vanished from Hersh’s face.
Ranger.
His body shifted automatically between me and the door.
Protective.
Focused.
Deadly calm.
Fear slammed back into me hard enough to steal my breath.
Another knock echoed upward through the tavern.
Then Trigger’s voice drifted up from below:
“Blaze!”
Hersh never took his eyes off the door.
“What?”
Trigger paused.
Then:
“Wolf’s here. And he brought company.”