67. Blaze
BLAZE
I’d held women before.
Kissed them.
Slept beside them.
Protected them.
But nothing?—
nothing—
had ever felt like this.
Flick standing against my chest somehow quieted parts of me that had been at war for years.
My arms tightened around her slowly.
Carefully.
Like she was something fragile and priceless at the same time.
Rain tapped softly against the porch roof above us.
The ranch lights glowed across wet fields.
And for the first time in longer than I wanted to admit?—
I didn’t feel alone.
Flick’s fingers curled lightly into the front of my shirt.
“You’re shaking.”
I huffed a quiet laugh.
“Bullet wound.”
“No.” She tilted her head slightly against me. “Not from that.”
Damn.
Too observant.
Too honest.
I stared out into the darkness past the ranch.
“Shepherd says fear makes people weak.”
Her body went still, listening.
“He trained men to shut emotions off completely. No attachments. No hesitation.”
My jaw tightened hard.
“He thought caring about people made you vulnerable.”
Flick slowly leaned back enough to look up at me.
Soft brown eyes.
Rain-damp hair.
The most beautiful woman I’d ever seen standing in my arms looking at me like I was worth saving.
“What do you think now?”
I brushed my thumb lightly across her cheek before I could stop myself.
“I think he was wrong.”
Emotion flickered across her face instantly.
Because she understood what I wasn’t saying.
Before her?
I survived.
That was it.
Mission to mission.
Violence to violence.
Breathing without really living.
But now?
Now I wanted things.
Her laughter in the kitchen.
Her falling asleep beside me.
Mornings.
Peace.
Things men like me weren’t supposed to get attached to.
Dangerous things.
“I’m scared,” she admitted softly.
The honesty in her voice gutted me.
“Of Shepherd?”
“Yes.” Her eyes searched mine. “But more than that…”
She hesitated.
Like the next words mattered.
Then finally whispered?—
“I’m scared of how much you matter to me already.”
Jesus.
My chest physically hurt hearing that.
I rested my forehead gently against hers.
“You matter to me too.”
“No,” she whispered shakily. “I don’t think you understand.”
Her hand pressed lightly over my heart.
“When you got shot…”
Her voice broke completely.
“It felt like mine stopped too.”
That almost destroyed me.
Right there on the porch.
After everything I’d survived?—
everything I’d seen?—
this woman saying those words hit harder than all of it.
I closed my eyes briefly.
Trying to breathe through the feeling crashing into me.
Then finally?—
quietly—
truthfully—
“I don’t know how to survive losing you now.”
Silence.
Deep and heavy and emotional.
Flick’s eyes filled instantly.
And then she kissed me.
Soft at first.
Tentative.
Like she was pouring every unspoken feeling between us into that single touch.
My restraint snapped immediately.
One hand slid into her wet hair while I kissed her back harder.
Need.
Relief.
Fear.
Love.
All tangled together between us.
She made the smallest sound against my mouth?—
and suddenly I was addicted to it.
Completely gone.
Her fingers clutched my jacket tighter as the storm rolled around us and the entire world disappeared beneath the feeling of her.
Then Wolf’s voice suddenly echoed from somewhere near the barn.
“Well thank God finally.”
Flick gasped softly against my mouth.
I closed my eyes.
“Wolf’s definitely dying.”
She laughed breathlessly against my lips.
And that sound?
Yeah.
I’d kill Shepherd to protect it.