CHAPTER 13 #3
When I looked back at her, she stood there silently, waiting. Her expression was flat, calm—too calm. Like she didn't expect an apology. Like she was used to not getting them from men who'd wronged her.
That look, more than anything, made the decision for me.
Without speaking, I reached out my hand toward her, a hesitant gesture, an unspoken truce. "Come with me," I said quietly, my voice softer but edged with tension I couldn't quite hide.
Anna's gaze dropped to my hand. She stared for a long moment, and I wondered if she'd take it—if she'd trust me after I'd just snapped at her.
Then, slowly, she placed her hand in mine, small and warm against my calloused palm.
My fingers closed around hers carefully as I guided her toward the living room and down onto the charcoal sofa.
I sat beside her, my shoulders tight, the air between us heavy with unspoken words. The moment reminded me of those forced confessionals in therapy after I came back, the weight of revealing things better left buried.
I was torn, wrestling with whether to speak or stay silent, whether to open a door I'd sworn to keep shut. When I finally found my voice, it cracked slightly, betraying the emotion I was fighting to contain.
"I'm sorry for snapping," I said, barely above a whisper. "And I'm sorry for acting indifferently toward you. For how rude I've been."
"Jaxon, you don't need to apologize," she said gently, surprise threading through her voice. She hadn't expected me to say it—didn't think I would.
I shook my head, frustration rising, my movements sharp with the sting of my own inner conflict. "When I was deployed, I got called back home six months early. There was an emergency."
I paused, my eyes drifting to the woodstove, watching the cold metal like it might replay the moment for me. "I was engaged back then. We lived together. Her name was Nikki."
My chest tightened as I spoke. The words pulled me back to that day, the call from my CO, the leave orders, the endless flight home with that growing knot in my gut. I knew something was wrong. I just didn't know how bad.
"Someone broke into our house and... killed her," I said, my voice trailing off.
I closed my eyes. My whole body went rigid, bracing against the weight of memory. The police tape. The detective's grim expression. The sheet over her in the morgue.
"Jaxon..." Anna said softly, her voice shaken. She hadn't expected that. "I... I'm so sorry. I know it won't change anything, but I truly am."
I gave a small nod, eyes fixed anywhere but on her. If I saw pity, just a flicker, I'd shut down completely.
"Connor's the only one who knows. I haven't talked about it since."
Silence stretched between us. I could feel her trying to find words, something to say. But there weren't words for this.
"I'm sorry I made you talk about something you didn't want to," she said, her voice careful now. "If it makes you feel any better, I'll tell you something too. To even the score."
That caught my attention. I looked at her, surprised. Her blue eyes were steady, determined, reminding me why I'd been drawn to her in the first place. That stubborn strength that refused to bend.
"I didn't want you to feel obligated," I said, my tone softer. Some of the armor cracked. "I just wanted you to understand why I've been the way I have."
"I understand," she replied gently. "But I want you to understand why I've been the way I am too."
I felt a flicker of confusion. Our earlier moments replayed in my head. Her recoiling, flinching when I moved too fast, freezing when I stood behind her at the sink.
"When I was with Daniel, he used to grab my wrists hard enough to bruise," she began.
My whole body tensed.
"It always happened during fights. If I tried to walk away, he'd stop me. One day, we were upstairs, arguing. I tried to leave, and he grabbed my arm when I was two steps down. His grip was so tight I thought he was going to drag me back up... but instead, he let go—flung my arm back."
She drew in a breath.
"I fell. The momentum pushed me down the stairs."
A thick silence dropped between us. My fists curled on my thighs, jaw clenched, rage simmering under my skin. Connor had said she'd left an abusive relationship, but not this. Probably because even he hadn't heard it from her.
Now, hearing it directly from her, the grim reality of her past hit me like a punch to the gut.
It was hard to imagine someone inflicting that kind of violence on another person, especially someone as kind-hearted as Anna.
But I'd seen enough in my life to know that monsters didn't always look like monsters.
My reaction was slow, my mind still processing the weight of what she'd revealed. I opened my mouth to respond but hesitated, my thoughts racing ahead of my words. The memories she described were dark, brutal, and cruel. No wonder she flinched when I got too close or moved too fast.
A pang of guilt hit me, for not realizing sooner, for every time I'd invaded her space or moved without warning, even after noticing some of her reactions.
"I'm sorry," I said quietly, my voice low but sincere. "I didn't know…"
"It's not your fault," Anna replied quickly. "I know Connor probably didn't tell you much. I haven't told him many of the details."
I nodded, meeting her gaze. "He told me a little, but not... like this. I had no idea it was that bad."
Anna took a deep breath, and I saw a weight lift from her shoulders, the relief of sharing a burden she'd carried alone. "I haven't talked about it. It's not something I want to remember. But I figured if you were going to open up, I should do the same. It only seems fair."
I rubbed the back of my neck, awkward in the face of her vulnerability.
I wasn't used to these kinds of conversations.
I was more comfortable with action, with fixing things, solving problems, the way I'd been trained.
But this took a different kind of strength.
The kind that came from listening, understanding, and showing compassion.
Things the Marines hadn't exactly emphasized.
Things I hadn't done for someone else in years.
"Thanks for sharing that with me," I said, knowing the words were inadequate but offering them anyway. "I know it's not easy."
Anna nodded, a small smile touching her lips, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I just wanted you to know why I'm like this. I'm working on it, but it's not always easy to trust people after... after something like that."
I reached out, moving slowly so I wouldn't startle her, telegraphing my movements the way I should've been doing all along, and gently touched her forearm, resting my hand against her skin. The same spot I'd touched at the sink, but this time, there was unspoken permission in the space between us.
"I get it. And if there's anything I can do to make you more comfortable, just tell me. I don't want you to feel like you have to put up with anything from me." The words felt clumsy, but I meant them.
She nodded, and her smile became a little more genuine. "Thanks, Jaxon. I appreciate that. Please keep it to yourself, though. Don't tell Connor."
I noticed the subtle shift as Anna moved her hand from her lap to mirror mine, turning it up so it rested against the bottom of my forearm.
A small gesture, but meaningful. Her way of saying she was willing to start trusting me, even if just a little.
I felt the warmth of her touch and gave her a reassuring nod, careful not to move too quickly, aware of how fragile this moment was.
The air between us felt lighter, the tension from earlier fading. We'd shared parts of ourselves we usually kept hidden, and while it was uncomfortable, it also felt freeing. Like a weight had lifted, a barrier had come down, letting us see each other more clearly.
We sat there a moment longer, her hand on my arm, my thumb brushing gently against her wrist in a slow, careful rhythm. Two broken people finding unexpected common ground in a cabin in the woods.
And for the first time since Nikki died, I didn't feel quite so alone.