Page 22 of My Ex-Military Mountain Man

I turn to press a kiss into his palm. "Then we start there. I'll come back in two weeks to check on the eagle's progress. We'll take it one step at a time."

"One step at a time," he agrees. "Though I should warn you… The sanctuary is particularly beautiful in winter."

"Is that an invitation for a longer stay, Mr. Mercer?"

His smile is the most open I've seen yet. "It might be, Dr. Nicole. It just might be."

I settle back against him, my head finding that perfect spot on his shoulder. Outside, the afternoon sun casts long shadows across the mountains, the sanctuary continuing its quiet work of healing around us.

"You realize," I say, "we still have an eagle to check on this evening."

Jack presses a kiss to my forehead. "We do. But not quite yet."

His arms tighten around me, and for now, that's all the future planning we need.

Chapter 8 - Jack

I hold Nicole in my arms, her head resting perfectly against my shoulder as afternoon light fills the room. The warmth of her skin against mine, the gentle rhythm of her breathing…

It all feels surreal, like something happening to someone else. Not to Jack Mercer, the man who built walls both literal and figurative to keep the world at bay.

Yet here she is. Here we are.

"You realize," she says, breaking the comfortable silence, "we still have an eagle to check on this evening."

I press a kiss to her forehead, inhaling the subtle scent of her hair. "We do. But not quite yet."

Not quite yet—because I want to hold onto this moment a little longer. Because the thought of tomorrow, of her leaving, has created an unexpected hollow feeling in my chest that I'm not ready to face.

I've spent five years alone, convinced that isolation was not just preferable but necessary. For my peace of mind. For my safety. For others' safety, on the bad days. And now, in less than forty-eight hours, this woman has upended every certainty I've built my life around.

"I must be losing my mind," I say softly, the words escaping before I can consider them.

Nicole shifts to look up at me, her dark eyes questioning. "Because of this? Us?"

I nod, my hand continuing its gentle path along her arm. "Five years of careful isolation, and suddenly I'm contemplating... what? A relationship? Long-distance visits? It's crazy."

"Is it?" She props herself up on an elbow, her expression thoughtful rather than hurt. "Or is it just unexpected?"

"Both," I admit. "I've convinced myself that being alone was the only option. That I'm... not fit for normal connections."

"Because of what happened to you? Or because of what you did?" Her directness is startling but somehow easier to face than careful evasion would be.

"Both," I say again. "The things I saw, did, experienced. They changed me. Not just the physical scars." I take a deep breath, forcing myself to continue. "The truth is, Nicole, I feel more genuinely happy right now than I have in years. And that terrifies me."

Her hand comes up to rest against my cheek, her touch gentle but grounding. "Why does happiness terrify you, Jack?"

"Because I don't trust it to last," I answer honestly. "And because... you should know what you're getting into. With me." I cover her hand with mine, needing the connection to continue. "There will be bad days. Days when I can't bear company, even yours. Days when a car backfiring or a door slamming might send me into a state you won't recognize. Days when the memories are too close to the surface."

Nicole listens without interruption, her eyes never leaving mine, her expression open and accepting.

"I'm not... fixed," I continue, the words difficult but necessary. "The sanctuary helps. The isolation has helped. But PTSD doesn't just disappear. It's managed, day by day."

"I know," she says softly. "I don't expect you to be 'fixed,' Jack. No one is."

"This won't be easy," I warn. "I'm not easy."

A small smile touches her lips. "I noticed that within five minutes of meeting you. Yet here I am."

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