Chapter Twenty Four
Hunter
The drive home felt shorter than it should’ve, probably because my head was still back in her living room. I dropped my keys in the bowl, kicked off my boots, and sat on the couch. I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, trying to catch up to the way my chest still felt too full.
I hadn’t expected to feel that…at ease. Camille’s place was small, but it was alive. The sound of little feet running down the hall, the smell of spaghetti still lingering in the air, the soft laughter that came from somewhere deep in her. It all stuck to me.
Zeke had grilled me about Ninja Turtles and space, the twins had me making up various voices for their stuffed animals, and somehow, between the chaos and the mess and her trying to wrangle bedtime, it felt like I fit there. Like I wasn’t just visiting.
I rubbed a hand over my jaw, shaking my head at the thought. It had been a long time since anything felt that easy. Since someone felt that easy.
Camille had this way about her: calm and bright all at once.
Her presence sneaks up on you, softening all the sharp edges before you realize it’s happening.
Watching her move around that apartment, hearing their soft voices down the hall, seeing her carry an entire world on her shoulders and still sit beside me at the end of the night did something to me.
And when she leaned into me, just barely, trusting me with that little bit of weight.
I wanted this. All of it. The spaghetti-stained tables, the bedtime routines, the cautious smiles. The weight of it hit me harder than I knew how to handle. In those little moments, it all clicked. My life had been running a little off-balance, and that one quiet moment had lined it all back up.
I leaned back against the couch, a slow grin tugging at my mouth. Damn, it felt good to feel this again.
For years, it had just been noise: work, training, the routine. Empty space filled with motion. But tonight felt different. The world was cracking open just a little, and I could finally see some light coming through.
I thought about texting her, thumb hovering over her name.
Part of me wanted to tell her everything.
How she made my night, that I couldn’t stop replaying her smile.
But it was late, and I didn’t want to mess up the calm we’d found.
I looked down at my phone, her name glowing on the screen.
My thumb hovered, heart hammering. Nothing I typed felt right.
How do you tell someone you’re falling for them when you still wake up with your chest tight and sweat soaking your shirt? How do you admit that your last marriage ended because you couldn’t be the man she needed, and you’re terrified this will end the same way?
So instead, I just sat there for a while. Still hearing her laugh, remembering the way her curls framed her face, feeling the warmth of her shoulder pressed against mine.
When I finally stretched out onto my bed, the apartment felt a little less empty than usual.
For what felt like the first time in a long time, I didn’t fall asleep thinking about what I’d lost. I fell asleep thinking about her, her kids, and all the small, impossible ways she was starting to feel like something I might finally be ready for.
???
The next morning, the base looked the same as it always did.
Gray buildings, uniformed figures moving with purpose, the low hum of radios.
I should’ve been focused on my reports. Instead, I was replaying the sound of Zeke declaring me acceptable, the twins squealing over fox and bunny, and the way Camille’s lips had felt against mine. The text I woke up to this morning:
Camille: Thank you for coming. It felt good
having you here and I think the kids
really liked you.
I couldn’t stop grinning, which was both a problem and a dead giveaway.
“Alright, what’s with you?” Nate’s voice cut through as he dropped into the chair across from me, balancing his coffee like it was a trophy. “You’ve got the look.”
I frowned. “What look?”
“The look of a man who either got promoted or got laid.” He leaned back, smirking. “And since I know your boss doesn’t like you enough for the first one…”
I rolled my eyes, reaching for the stack of reports. “You’re an idiot.” Nate was technically my boss, although after years of serving together, he was more like my brother.
“That’s not a no,” he sing-songed, clearly delighted. “So, spill. How was dinner with the MILF?”
I gave him a warning look. “Don’t call her that.”
Nate held up his hands. “Fine, fine. Dinner with Camille. Details.”
I hesitated, then sighed. “It was…good. Better than good. I think the kids liked me.”
His eyebrows shot up. “All three? You got past the gatekeepers?”
“Apparently,” I muttered, but I couldn’t hide the smile tugging at my mouth.
Nate slapped the table, grinning. “There it is! Atta boy. So why do you look like you haven’t slept?”
He wasn’t wrong. I hadn’t slept much. Not because of bad dreams this time, but because of good ones.
The kind that kept me awake with want instead of fear.
The kind that whispered maybe, just maybe, I was allowed to want this.
I shrugged, trying to downplay it. “I’m just… thinking. Trying not to screw it up.”
Nate sipped his coffee, eyes sharp for once. “You won’t. You show up. You don’t play games. That’s more than half the battle.” Then, with a grin, “Also, snacks. Kids are cheap dates.”
I shook my head, laughing. “You’re a real fountain of wisdom.”
“Don’t forget it.” He stood, stretching. “Now get your head out of la-la land and finish those reports. Or I’ll tell the boys you’re over here daydreaming and writing love letters.” I groaned, but my grin stayed. Because he wasn’t wrong. I was daydreaming.
The rest of the morning rush went by in a blur.
I signed papers, fixed a mess someone else had caused, but it was all autopilot.
My brain wasn’t in the office; it was back in her apartment.
I kept thinking about the way Zeke’s face lit up when I said rockets were my specialty.
The way the twins giggled. The way Camille leaned against me on the couch, hesitant but real, testing whether I’d hold steady. I wanted that again. All of it.
Then came the voice I was able to push off until now.
Was I ready for this? For three kids who weren’t mine, but who could be in every way that mattered, if I stayed?
For a woman whose past was heavier than she let on, but who still smiled at me like I was making it lighter?
Could I be reliable enough, present enough, good enough for them?
A part of me whispered no. That same part that had been whispering since the divorce, since the Corps, since the nights when I’d sat awake in my apartment staring at nothing.
That part said I wasn’t built for this. That sooner or later, I’d let her down.
I pinched the bridge of my nose and drew a slow breath through clenched teeth. The Marine Corps had trained me to handle chaos, but not this kind. This wasn’t bullets or orders. This was bedtime tantrums, spaghetti wars, and the terrifying possibility of belonging again.
A family. A home.
I leaned back and stared at the ceiling until the tension behind my eyes eased just enough for another voice to break through, a gentler one. You showed up. You stayed. You made them laugh. You made her smile.
Sitting there in her space, surrounded by all that life, had felt like I’d come home.
But “home” was a word I’d learned not to trust. Home wasn’t something I let myself imagine anymore. The Corps had been home once. Then the marriage…until it wasn’t. Since then, it has just been me, the apartment, and the job. Quiet. Safe. Detached.
Until last night.
I rubbed a hand over my beard and exhaled hard. I wasn’t used to hope anymore, but she made me feel it again. And I didn’t hate it.
Under all the noise, that steady hum of excitement wouldn’t quit.