Page 26 of Montana Memory

He didn’t look at me, just kept scrubbing the plate in his hand. “I need a few hours to work out.”

I frowned. “Now?”

He nodded, drying the dish and setting it aside. “Yeah.”

It was an avoidance tactic—I knew that much. But I wasn’t sure if it was avoidance from me, or something else entirely.

“You look like you haven’t slept in days,” I said.

That made him pause, just for a second. Then he shut off the water, drying his hands with slow, careful movements. “I’m fine.”

I crossed my arms. “That’s not an answer.”

He finally turned to face me, something unreadable flickering behind his green eyes. “This is how I deal with it.”

I hesitated. “Deal with what?”

His jaw ticked, like he was debating whether to tell me. Then, with a heavy exhale, he leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. “My PTSD.”

The word hung between us, weighty, final. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected, but it wasn’t that. I swallowed. “From your time in the military?”

He nodded.

I shifted in my seat. “Was it…one specific thing that caused your PTSD?”

His gaze flicked to mine, something dark swimming there. “A lot of things,” he admitted. “But yeah. One mission, right before I got out. It went bad.”

I waited, giving him space to say more. He didn’t. I didn’t push.

Whatever happened, whatever haunted him, it wasn’t something he was ready to lay out on the table like the dinner plates he’d just cleaned. And maybe I understood that better than I wanted to admit.

“So, working out helps?” I asked instead.

He nodded once. “When I’ve been around people too long, I start getting twitchy. My hands shake. I need to do something physical to work it out.”

I thought of the way his fingers had trembled against the sink. Of how he’d barely looked at me when he’d walked through the door earlier, his whole body humming with unspent tension.

It made sense. It also made me feel helpless. I could barely hold my own emotions together, let alone help with his. And he wasn’t asking me to. But for some reason, I wished I could do something. Anything.

Instead, all I could do was nod. “Okay. You don’t need to entertain me.”

“I know you’ve been here alone all day. And you were alone at the motel for days before that. I’m sure you need some interaction with another person. I’ll be okay.”

Once again, he was willing to sacrifice for me. But this time, I could give back tohim. “I promise I’m okay.”

Yes, I would love to have him to talk to. The past days had been difficult. But it could wait.

“Truly. You go take care of yourself however you need too.”

He studied me for a beat longer, then pushed off the counter. “I’ll be back in the workout room.”

I didn’t try to stop him.

The door shut behind him, and the silence that followed was suffocating. I exhaled, slow and unsteady, and sank deeper into my chair.

The weight of the day pressed down on me. Alan’s betrayal. The drug that had stolen my past. The uncertainty of whatever came next.

And Hunter.

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