Page 21 of Wrecker

My gaze drifted lower, lingering on the tattoos inked across his chest and shoulders. “Can I ask about the one on your ribs?”

A flicker of pain passed through his dark eyes before he nodded. “Wanted to do something to honor the guys from my team who didn’t make it home from overseas.”

He’d told me some about his background, so it wasn’t hard to guess that he was talking about his military days. “You don’t have to tell me more.”

He held my gaze, the air between us heavy. “Felt like we were all young and dumb back then, even when I was doing EOD for Spec Ops.”

His low voice was haunted. I reached for him without thinking, pressing my palm lightly against the inked skin just over his ribs. I didn’t ask what it said. Somehow, I knew the words weren’t meant to be shared—just carried.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

He wrapped his hand around my wrist to hold my palm in place. “I carry them with me every day, but the weight is lighter with you by my side.”

His confession touched me so deeply, and I wanted to share another piece of myself too.

“My dad died when I was sixteen. It was a construction site accident. Faulty beams because someone cut corners where it counted most. That’s what started me down this path. I didn’t want to be another person looking the other way.”

His thumb brushed against my cheek. “He’d be proud of you.” I smiled faintly, but before I could reply, he added softly, “I am.”

My breath caught in my throat. “You don’t even know me.”

“I’m startin’ to.”

I didn’t pull away. Couldn’t, even if I wanted to.

His hand stayed cupped around my cheek, anchoring me to him. We stared into each other’s eyes for a long moment, something quiet and solid blooming in the space between us.

A knock sounded at the door, interrupting the moment. Reid’s jaw clenched as he rolled onto his back, a low growl rumbling in his throat.

“Fuckin’ timing,” he muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face before raising his voice. “Yeah?”

“Need to check in on Peyton,” came the muffled reply.

I sat up, tugging the covers a little higher, even though I was wearing an oversized shirt. “It’s okay.”

The tension in Reid’s shoulders eased when he heard Blade’s voice. He rolled off the mattress, grabbing a tee off the chair and yanking it over his head. Then he strode across the room and jerked the door open. “Hey.”

Blade stepped inside. “Sorry it’s so early. I’m on my way to the hospital but wanted to make sure Peyton was still good before I started my shift.”

“Thanks, man.” Reid clapped him on the shoulder. “Appreciate it.”

I flashed a smile at Blade. “Yes, thank you.”

Reid crossed his arms and leaned against the wall while Blade turned to me. “Mind if I take a look?”

I shifted, making room for him to sit on the edge of the mattress. “My shoulder’s still sore, but not nearly as bad as yesterday. I haven’t needed the prescription pain meds.”

“Good,” Blade said, carefully examining the bruising. “No signs of deeper damage, which means you should heal up nicely. You’ll probably be achy for a few more days. Keep up with the ibuprofen, hydrate, and try not to overdo it.”

“I’ll make sure of it,” Reid cut in.

Blade didn’t even blink. “Of course you will.”

His dry tone made me bite back a smile.

Blade reminded me of warning signs to watch for, then he stood. “You’re doing well. I’ll check in again tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” I said, genuinely grateful.

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