Page 72 of Montana Memory

I froze, my breath hitching. Hunter.

Evelyn exhaled softly, like she’d been expecting him. She pushed to her feet, her gaze flicking between us before settling on me. “My offer stands,” she said simply. “If you decide you want to leave, I’ll make sure you can.”

I barely nodded before she turned and headed back to the lodge, her boots crunching against the gravel. A moment later, the door swung shut behind her, leaving me alone with Hunter.

I forced myself to meet his eyes. “How much did you hear?”

“Pretty much all of it.” His voice was rough, edged with something I couldn’t name. “Definitely heard that you want to leave.”

Guilt crashed into me, sharp and immediate. “Hunter?—”

“Don’t.” He crossed the space between us in three long strides and yanked me into his arms.

I stiffened, my hands pressing against his chest, but he didn’t let go.

“I get it,” he murmured, his breath warm against my hair. “I get how impossible it is to be around good people when you know you’re not the same kind of good.” He inhaled deeply, his grip tightening. “How every smile, every touch, every time they pull you in, it just makes the weight of it worse. Until it’s all a mess of misery.”

My chest squeezed, becauseyes.

Because every moment in this place, every piece of kindness I’d been given, every small act of forgiveness—it only made the guilt worse.

I pushed at his chest, but he didn’t let go. “Hunter, you’re not like me.”

His hands slid to my face, cupping my cheeks, forcing me to look at him. “I’m not?” His voice was quiet, almost deadly. “I’ve killed people, Jada.”

I swallowed hard. “You were a soldier.”

“That’s not all.” His eyes searched mine, shadows pooling in their depths. “The darkness in me? It was there before I joined. It’s been there since I left.” His voice dropped lower. “I killed two people the night I found you in that cabin.”

I stiffened.

“Yes, they were bad guys,” he continued, watching me. “But I didn’thaveto kill them. I could’ve found another way.”

I shook my head. “That’s still not the same.”

His hands settled on my shoulders. “Why?”

I exhaled sharply, my pulse pounding. “Because the people you killed deserved it.” My voice cracked. “Who I tried to hurt wasgood.Kenzie isgood.”

Hunter let out a slow exhale, his fingers gliding down my arms before he eased back just enough to look me in the eyes. The weight of his gaze was steady, grounding. He cupped my face again, his thumbs brushed lightly over my cheekbones, and something about the tenderness of the touch made my chest feel too tight.

“Let me ask you something,” he said quietly. “Despite everything I just told you—about what I’ve done, who I am—do you think I should take the Warrior Security job?”

The question caught me off guard. I blinked up at him, startled, but I didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

His expression didn’t change, but I felt the way his body tensed. “Why?”

“Because this place is good for you.” My voice was firm, absolute. “You have the skills for it, the experience. But more than that, you havethem.Lucas, Daniel, the rest of the guys. They get you in a way most people don’t. Resting Warrior has everything you need to rebuild your life the way you want to.”

Hunter studied me for a long moment, his jaw ticking like he was weighing something heavy in his mind. Then he tilted his head, his thumbs still brushing slow, absent circles over my skin. “And if I think this place could do the same for you? If I thinkyoucould rebuild something here, become the person you want to be, not the person you used to be?”

My breath caught.

He kept going, voice steady. “Would you consider staying? I know it’s too soon to be talking about permanence. But somehow, that doesn’t matter to me. I saw you in that cabin that night, and something about you called to me.” His green eyes locked on mine. “You were mine from the beginning.”

My stomach flipped, but my head was a mess of contradictions. “Hunter,” I whispered, shaking my head. “We don’t even know each other.”

His lips quirked, but it wasn’t amusement—it was something softer, something weighted with understanding. “We don’t even knowourselves,” he countered. “But maybe we figure it out together.”

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