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Her jaw clenched, a bitter exhale slipping past her lips. It wasn’t fair—what his death had done to her. What it had done to all of them.
But the thought didn’t settle right either. It itched beneath her skin, poked at the edges of a dangerous truth she didn’t want to face.
Maybe that was the hardest part to understand, not the heat, not the guilt, not even the wanting.
She hated that she’d snapped at him. He deserved an honest conversation about Brian. He did. But fear shivered through her body, and her stomach dropped like a stone. She just couldn’t go there. Not yet.
Dagger’s head whipped around to her. "Are you cold?" he asked, and she wanted to kick her own ass for how his softness, his concern, hit her. He just kept showing her his heart, this man who never, ever gave up on her, even when her healing was tumultuous, and her reactions weren’t easy to swallow. Silently, he was nudging her toward her own transformation, without coercion, without manipulation, and without control. He was just being Dagger.
“Yes,” she whispered, cold from more than just the air, but he didn’t know that. His concern was killing her. God, he deserved so much more.
She knew who she was now.
Or at least, she was starting to remember.
Not the widow. Not the woman consumed by grief. Not the broken mother clawing her way back to sobriety.
Her.
She wasn't even sure what parts of her life before him had survived.
Maybe that was the root of it. Why her words came out sharp, too fast. Like a reflex. A defense mechanism she didn’t even realize she still clung to. One born from a girl who learned early that the only way to stay in control was to stay ahead. Stay guarded. Stayuntouchable.
The second the words left her mouth, she saw it.
That flicker in Dagger’s eyes. The one that said heexpectedit. That maybe some part of him still believed it was all he deserved.
Damn it, wasn’t that the part that made her ache the most?
Because he didn’t.Not anymore.
Not after everything they’d just shared. Not after the way he’d held her, not just in his arms, but in that sacred, silent space between heartbeats where the world didn’t exist. Where there was no Brian.
Maybe… just maybe… that meant she was finally choosingherselftoo.
She curled closer to him now, tangled in warmth and skin and the slow, steady rhythm of his breathing. His dog tags jingled as he moved toward her, settling against his shoulder as he pulled her against him to lend her his warmth, the metal cool against her flushed skin. Her fingers drifted over them absently, letting the weight slide between her fingers, catching on the edge of his collarbone.
She wasn’t sure why she kept touching them, maybe because they were such a part of him. A symbol of his duty, yes… but also his presence. His permanence.
His voice rumbled low beside her, rough with sleep and a hint of humor. "You’re sure better to wake up to than six scruffy, muscle-bound knuckleheads."
She smiled, trailing her fingers along the chain again, letting the tags clink softly against his chest. There he was trying to soften that awkward moment with humor. “Are you talking about your team?”
He gave a noncommittal grunt, and she blew out a hard breath. So much to look at, so many handsome faces, coiled, muscular bodies. Was he kidding? “Please. Most women across America would disagree. Hell… across the globe.” Her grin turned wicked. “Not to mention the strap hangers. The frog hogs. So, two, three, six? What does it matter?”
That earned a low chuckle, the kind that vibrated against her ribs just before he moved, one fluid, tactical roll that flipped her beneath him.
She shrieked, laughing as he caged her in, bracing himself on his forearms, his body heavy and delicious against hers. Her hands flattened against his bare chest, heartbeat drumming beneath her palms.
“You jealous, babe?”
There was teasing in his voice, but something else too. Something deeper that she couldn’t quite name.
She tilted her head, lifting her chin just a little. “Piper thought you were fucking gorgeous.”
Dagger blinked. “Piper? Who’s Piper?”
She hesitated, thrown. He wasn’t pretending. There was real confusion in his face, an adorable slight furrow between his brows, like the name genuinely didn’t register.