Chapter Thirty Three
Hunter
The truck had never sounded this loud.
No, not the engine. The laughter. The chatter. The squeak of toys and the constant stream of questions from the backseat.
“Are we there yet?” Zeke asked for the third time, legs swinging against his booster seat.
“Buddy, we’re not even close, I said, glancing at him in the rear-view mirror.
He grinned back at me, unbothered, then went right back to explaining which shark was the fastest swimmer.
Beside me, Camille sat with her diaper bag tucked at her feet, hands clasped tight in her lap. She kept sneaking glances at me, waiting for me to flinch, to roll my eyes, to sigh at the circus taking over my truck.
But the truth was, I kind of liked it.
The noise filled in parts of me that I hadn’t realized were empty. It was messy, sure. Loud. Unpredictable. But it was real. And it was them. Her kids, her world, and somehow she’d continued to let me into it.
I caught her looking again, nervous, lips pressed tight.
“You okay?” I asked, keeping my tone light.
She gave a quick smile. “Yeah. Just… waiting for you to run off screaming.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “Not a chance. I’ve been in combat zones quieter than this. I can handle a few squeaky toys.”
That earned me a laugh, the kind that made her whole face light up.
I reached across the console and took her hand, my thumb tracing slow circles against her skin.
At a red light, I glanced at the bouquet of sunflowers she’d put in a cup holder between us, stems sticking out awkwardly. She’d insisted on bringing them along “so they wouldn’t wilt,” but I knew the truth. She just didn’t want to let go of them yet.
This wasn’t just a date. This wasn’t just dinner and a kiss on the couch. This was me, behind the wheel, with three kids in the backseat, calling the shots. This was the kind of step you don’t take unless you’re serious.
And I was.
Scared? Sure. Overthinking every second? Absolutely. But serious all the same.
I tightened my grip on the wheel and told myself what I’d been telling her: I’d just keep showing up and doing my best.
I peeked in the rear-view mirror again, except this time I didn’t just see kids.
I saw her.
Zeke had her curls, the same stubborn spring that refused to be tamed. His eyes were hers, too. I caught myself thinking he had her determination, the way he asked questions, and shared her genuine curiosity about the world.
The twins were even more dangerous for my heart. Those big brown eyes? Same as hers, wide and deep, full of kindness and innocence. Their little giggles echoed her laugh. Bright, infectious, the kind of sound that worked its way under your skin and stayed there.
It hit me then, these kids weren’t just hers. They were her, in pieces. Living proof of her strength, her chaos, and her love.
And if I wanted her, it meant wanting all of them too. The realization was heavy. But it wasn’t the kind of weight that pushed me down; it was the kind that made me think, Yeah. I can carry this.
The drive wasn’t long, but it felt like a shift. Each mile put me deeper into her world. By the time the blue dome of the aquarium came into view, Zeke was practically bouncing out of his booster seat, yelling about jellyfish and turtles.
“Sharks first!” he demanded.
“No, fishy first!” Avery countered, smacking her toy against the car seat.
“Bunny!” Chloe shouted because, apparently, her stuffed bunny was now part of the tour.
Camille’s laugh was soft, but her shoulders were still stiff, her hands twisting in her lap. Bracing for me to glance in the rear-view mirror, see the chaos in full force, and put the truck in reverse. I wish she could see the resolve in my mind.
I parked, cut the engine, and turned to look at her.
“You okay?” I asked quietly.
She gave me a smile that was more nervous than joyful. “They’re… a lot.”
“They’re perfect,” I said before I could stop myself.
Her eyes flicked to mine, wide and searching, like she was trying to decide if I really meant it. I held the gaze, because I did. Climbing out, I grabbed the stroller from the bed of the truck before she could, unfolding it in one practiced motion. She raised a brow.
“You sure you haven’t done this before?”
I smirked. “Told you. My buddy has a daughter. He made me practice until I could do it blindfolded.” That earned me a laugh that was genuine this time.
We got the twins strapped in, Zeke’s hand snug in mine as we crossed the parking lot. Camille walked on the other side of him, glancing at me now and then like she still couldn’t quite believe I was here. Carrying the bag. Pushing the stroller.
And maybe I couldn’t quite believe it either.
Because walking into an aquarium with three kids and the woman who’d slowly undone all my walls felt like uncharted territory.
But it also felt right. Maybe I was exactly where I was supposed to be.
The moment we stepped into the aquarium, the kids froze in their tracks.
The glass tunnel stretched ahead, glowing blue, schools of silver fish darting past like a living current.
Light rippled across the floor, painting their little sneakers in shades of ocean.
“Whoa,” Zeke breathed, his hand tightening in mine. “It’s like we’re underwater.”
Avery squealed, pointing both fists at the glass where a stingray slid past. Chloe gasped and pressed her bunny against the stroller tray, as if showing it the view too.
Beside me, Camille exhaled softly. Relief, maybe. Or nerves, loosening just a little.
“They like it,” I murmured, leaning closer.
Her lips twitched. “That’s an understatement.”
I couldn’t help smiling. Because watching them watch the fish was better than any exhibit. Zeke’s eyes were wide, his mouth hanging open. The twins squealed with every new sound and color.
And Camille… the way she watched me like she was waiting for me to pull back, to sigh, to reveal that this was too much. But I didn’t feel that way at all. I felt…like this was exactly where I was supposed to be.
We moved slowly, Zeke tugging me toward the shark tank like he was on a mission. “That one’s a hammerhead! Did you know they can see almost all the way around their heads?”
I chuckled. “Guess I’d better be careful then. He’ll see me coming before I even wave.” Zeke laughed, delighted, and the sound hit me deeper than I expected.
The twins clapped at the jellyfish display, glowing pink and orange in the dark. Avery whispered, “Pretty,” while Chloe hummed her nonsense tune, swaying in the stroller.
I bent down, pointing at the tank. “You’re right, Avery. Pretty. Like your mom.” Camille elbowed me, cheeks flushing, but I caught the small smile she tried to hide.
Halfway through, we stopped at the touch tank. Zeke rolled up his sleeves, eyes gleaming. “Can I? Please?”
“Go for it,” I said, guiding his hand toward the stingray gliding lazily by. He squealed when it brushed against his fingers, turning to look at his mom with wild excitement.
“Mommy! It’s slimy!” Camille laughed, and for once, the sound didn’t have an edge of exhaustion. It was pure, unguarded joy. I glanced at her, catching that light in her face, and knew I’d fight like hell to keep being the reason she smiled like that.
By the time we made it to the sea turtle exhibit, Zeke was drooping against the glass, the twins babbling sleepily in the stroller. I pushed it while Camille walked beside me, close enough that her arm brushed mine now and then.
“You did good,” she said softly, almost like she didn’t mean for me to hear it.
I looked at her, steady. “We did good.”
Her eyes flicked to mine, and for a second, the walls she carried cracked again. And in that tiny opening, I knew this was something worth staying for.
By the time we circled back to the entrance, the magic was fading fast. Zeke’s steps dragged, his bottom lip sticking out as he whined, “My legs are too tired.” The twins squirmed in the stroller, rubbing their eyes, one starting to fuss, the other repeating “fishy, fishy” like a broken record.
Camille’s jaw tightened. I saw it in the way she adjusted the diaper bag higher on her shoulder, bracing herself. I knew that look, it was the one of someone already preparing to carry everyone else through the hard part.
“C’mere, buddy,” I said, crouching in front of Zeke. “Want a lift?”
His eyes lit up. “On your shoulders?”
“On my shoulders.”
In a second, he was grinning, arms wrapped around my head as I hoisted him up onto my shoulders. He giggled, legs swinging against my chest. “I’m taller than everyone!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the entrance.
Camille blinked, surprise flickering across her face before softening into something that made my chest tighten.
We made our way back to the truck with Zeke perched high on my shoulder, directing us like a tiny general, the twins sat quietly in the stroller, and Camille walked close, eyes darting to me every few steps as though she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing.
At the truck, Zeke slid down, landing with a thud before proudly declaring, “Hunter carried me!” like it was the highlight of his day.
The twins were fussing by then, tired and cranky, but I leaned close to Camille as we buckled them in. “Everyone’s secure,” I murmured, trying to ease the tension I could still feel rolling off her.
Her lips twitched, exhaustion warring with a smile. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yeah,” I said, brushing my hands off on my jeans. “But I wanted to.”
For the briefest moment, her walls cracked wide enough for me to see the relief, the gratitude, and the tiny spark of hope she was still afraid to name.
And as I slid into the driver’s seat with Zeke already munching his cookie and the twins drifting off in the back, I realized I’d do this again in a heartbeat.
Because maybe this wasn’t just her life anymore. Maybe it could be ours.