Chapter 8 #3
"Saw the world, alright." Cullen's voice had gone flat—the kind of flat that meant emotions were being held at arm's length because letting them any closer would be dangerous.
"Saw things I can't unsee. Did things I can't undo.
Lost people I can't get back." He was quiet for a moment, staring at something only he could see.
"When I came home, I wasn't right. Wrong in the head.
The VA gave me pills and told me to talk about my feelings.
My family walked on eggshells, pretending everything was fine.
My ex—she tried so hard, but how do you help someone who doesn't know how to be a person anymore? "
"You can't," Dove said quietly. "They have to find their own way back."
Cullen looked at her and nodded. The acknowledgment of someone who'd been to the same dark place and somehow found the exit.
"Yeah. That's the thing, isn't it?" He rubbed a hand over his face, stubble rasping.
"I spent a while living on the edge. Literally.
Out in the Glades, away from people, away from anything that reminded me of what normal was supposed to look like.
Lived in a shack, ate what I caught, and waited to either get better or die. Wasn't picky about which."
"What changed?"
"Trent." The name came out soft. "He and Fallon.
They kept showing up, kept dragging me back to civilization whether I wanted it or not.
Bought food. Bought beer. Brought company that didn't ask me to talk about anything I didn't want to talk about.
" He shook his head slowly. "I told them to leave me alone.
Told them I was fine. Told them some pretty ugly things, actually, hoping they'd give up.
They didn't. Just kept coming back—every week, sometimes twice a week.
My uncle would join sometimes. Then half the damn town, honestly. This place wouldn't let me disappear."
"Sounds exhausting."
"It was." Cullen laughed, a rough sound. "But it worked. Slow, like growing bone back after a break, but it worked." He met her eyes. "Trent gave me that. He saw something worth saving when I couldn't see anything at all."
The water lapped against the pilings, filling the silence. A mullet jumped somewhere nearby, silver flash and splash, and the heron's head swiveled to track it.
"Now, I'm focused on staying steady," Cullen continued. "Getting my head on straight. Making sure I can see my son, Tyler, regularly.” Cullen’s face lit up.
“He's got my eyes and his mother's good sense, thank God.
My ex—she worries. About the PTSD. About whether I'm stable enough, whether something might trigger me when I'm alone with him.
" He lifted one shoulder. "I don't blame her.
She's protecting our kid. That's her job.
I just have to keep proving that I'm someone he can count on. "
"Sounds like you're doing the work."
"Every damn day. Some days are harder than others." He rubbed his hands up and down his thighs. "But you didn't come here to listen to my sad story. You came to ask about Karl. Specifically whether I think he'd do something to hurt Trent if Trent didn't play along with whatever he wanted."
Dove nodded. "Would he?"
“Outside of taking a few potshots at someone, Karl's not violent. He's the kind of guy who starts fights and lets other people finish them."
"But?"
"I wouldn't put it past him to manipulate.
To scheme. To set up a situation where someone else takes the fall.
" He held Dove’s gaze. "Karl's always been about Karl. If Trent's useful to him, he'll be his best friend. The second Trent becomes a problem—or more valuable as a scapegoat than a partner—Karl won't think twice about throwing him under the bus. And the problem is Trent, even when he’s being a dick, he’s got a heart the size of this country. He’s as true as they come, and he tends to see the good in people. All people. Even assholes like Karl.”
"Trent told me about the probation."
“That’s the kind of person he is.” Cullen's voice hardened. “He takes care of people, even when they don't deserve it. And Karl walked away clean. Pissed off Fallon.”
"So you think Karl could do it again?"
"In a heartbeat. He doesn't have loyalty—he has interests. If Trent keeps saying no?" Cullen shrugged. "Karl will find a way to make yes the only option. Or he'll find a way to make Trent pay for refusing."
Dove absorbed this, fitting it into the picture she'd been building all day. "Any idea who his clients might be? The ones with deep pockets?"
"No clue. And truthfully, Karl could be bullshitting to get Trent to bite.”
Dove pushed to a standing position. “Thanks for the intel. I appreciate it. If you hear anything or happen to see Karl, let me know. We’ll be in touch.”
“Thanks.” Cullen hopped to his feet. “If you need anything else, you know where to find me. And Dove?”
“Yeah?”
"Watch your back. I've never trusted Karl and I trust the people around him less. If someone's targeting Trent—if this is about more than money or petty bullshit—Karl might not think twice about going through anyone standing next to him."
"I can handle myself."
"I know you can. Just saying—be careful." Something in his expression softened. "Trent's already lost enough. His dad. His mom. That gator who made his moat her home. He acts like he can handle anything, but everyone's got a breaking point. Don't let him find his by losing you, too."
The words hit harder than they should have.
"For what it's worth—I'm glad he's got you. He's been alone too long. Not physically, but..." Cullen tapped his chest. "In here. He keeps everyone at arm's length, even the people who love him. If you've gotten past that, you must be something special."
Dove nodded once, not trusting her voice, and turned to head back up the dock, her boots hollow on the weathered wood.
Her phone buzzed before she'd made it halfway back to the marina building.
She pulled it out, half-expecting it to be Buddy with another dead end or her uncle with another complication.
Warmth bloomed behind her ribs when she saw the name on the screen.
Trent: Dinner at the pub? I'll buy.
She read it twice, then a third time, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
Trent Mallor. Asking her to dinner. In public. Voluntarily.
This was progress. For both of them, maybe—but mostly for Trent. The man who'd spent three weeks barely able to sit at at the local pub without looking like he wanted to bolt. The man who'd been drowning in grief so deep she wasn't sure he'd ever surface.
Dove: Be there in 20. And I'm paying. You bought last time.
Trent: There was no last time. We've never been on a real date before.
She grinned at the screen.
Dove pocketed the phone and headed for her truck, the setting sun warm on her shoulders, Cullen's words still echoing in her mind.
She wasn't something special. She was just stubborn enough not to give up on someone who'd forgotten they were worth fighting for.
And Trent Mallor, whether he knew it or not, was absolutely worth fighting for.