Page 17 of Shades of You (Calypso Key #4)

Chapter Seventeen

Brenna

As I nestled in the sheets with Hunter’s arms around me, the wonderful soreness between my legs made everything even more real. The ceiling fan above us stirred the air, carrying a soft breeze to dry the sweat on our skin. He had just unraveled me in ways I didn’t know were possible. My head spun at just the sight of him, not only his raw physical beauty, but the map of scars on his skin. I understood that few people knew they existed, yet he’d trusted me enough to bare himself. And I realized that act was every bit as intimate as what we had just shared.

“Did you get all those at once?” My voice was soft as I traced a finger over a particularly wicked scar that snaked its way across his abdomen.

“No, it was over many missions.” His words were heavy, like they carried the gravity of each memory. He gently folded his hand over mine and laid it on his chest. His gaze drifted to a bullet hole near his rib, and tightness crept into his jaw. “But this one… and some others were from one mi ssion that went south fast.” Shadows passed over his face as if he’d left a part of himself on those foreign battlefields.

“Something went wrong?” My heart clenched for the pain he’d endured, for the stories etched into his flesh that he hadn’t shared with me. Yet.

“Yeah.”

“I understand if you can’t talk about it, but I’d like to hear,” I said softly. Not pushing too hard but offering him the space to unfold before me if he chose to.

He stared out the window toward the mangroves that fringed Dove Key. “Her name was Ayesha. She was a young widow with two kids—a boy and a girl. Both smart as whips. She taught English secretly because, well, you know how it is over there. The Taliban… they would have killed her for it.”

A knot tightened in my stomach. The idea of children being dragged into such horror felt like a punch to the gut. I couldn’t imagine the strength it took to defy such odds, to cling to the belief that education could be a candle in the darkness.

“I gave Ayesha some books to use in her classroom, and we became friends. I told her… I’d protect her and her kids.” He stopped to clear his throat, his hand unconsciously stroking my back as if to soothe us both. “We were working to get them out. My unit. We thought the Taliban were still days away. Myles, Garrett, and I went into town for something to eat, thinking we’d be back long before anything happened.”

He hadn’t spoken much about the two men who worked with him, but his words confirmed my intuition that they had all served together. The hard knot in my gut twisted further. “And something did happen?”

“Yes. All hell broke loose.” He swallowed hard, the Adam’s apple in his throat bobbing with the effort. “The sound of gunfire rattled through the streets—it’s not something you ever forget. We dropped everything and ran back. The Taliban had already overrun the town, and we engaged every step of the way. Thank God we never went anywhere unarmed. Some shrapnel hit me on the way. On my upper back.”

I rubbed my fingers, remembering the ridges of his skin as I’d stroked across that broad back.

He sighed, a sound that weighed a thousand pounds. Then his body tensed as if the memory was a physical blow. “When we got there… It was too late.”

“Oh no.” A numb wave rolled over me, leaving goose bumps in its wake.

He nodded, a pained expression crossing his features. “Ayesha and her kids… They lay there in their own home, lifeless, and I just…” He moved his hand, his fingers tracing the bullet hole near his rib—the scar I’d traced with my lips not so long before, learning the history etched into his skin. “I completely lost it. Went after the Taliban still around with everything I had. It wasn’t about orders or duty anymore. I didn’t really care what happened to me. It was personal.”

“Revenge?” I asked softly.

“Justice,” he corrected, a hollow breath escaping him. “But in the end, what does it matter? They were still gone. And I took another bullet, this time for nothing.”

“Nothing?” I echoed, frowning deeply. “You were trying to protect them.”

“Key word—trying.” Hunter’s eyes met mine, filled with a sorrow that twisted everything inside me in knots. “I failed them, just like I failed Evan.”

“Your brother’s accident wasn’t your fault,” I said firmly. Everyone knew the story. It had been an accident, sure. But Hunter had instigated the whole thing and obviously never forgiven himself.

He shook his head, his expression unreadable. “Doesn’t change how I feel. I couldn’t save them, and Evan was paralyzed for a while because of me. It’s why I pushed you away, Brenna. Why I’m still not sure that us”—he gestured vaguely between our entwined bodies—“that this is such a good idea.”

“Because you think you’re what. Cursed?” I challenged, refusing to accept his self-condemnation. “That you bring disaster wherever you go?”

“It’s crossed my mind,” he admitted, staring with ancient eyes at the ceiling.

“Then stop.” The words came out more forcefully than I intended. “Those things happened to you, not because of you. You’re just as deserving of love and forgiveness as anyone else, Hunter.”

“Sure,” he mumbled.

“It’s true,” I insisted, turning his chin to make him look at me. Even though I felt like my heart was cracking in half. “You’ve been carrying these burdens alone for far too long. Let me help.”

He looked at me then, really looked at me, his deep, dark eyes searching mine for something he couldn’t seem to find within himself. “Why do you care so much?”

“Because,” I whispered back, pressing my forehead to his. “It kills me to see you like this.”

He closed his eyes and pressed a gentle kiss to my temple. I traced a stylized inked turtle on his shoulder, knowing that in his heart, he was still miles away on a battlefield that he couldn’t escape. I reached out, my fingers tracing the line of the elaborate tattoo, a gesture meant to tether him back to the present, away from the haunting memories.

“Look at us,” I said, allowing a small smile to dance on my lips, hoping it might coax one onto his. “A Coleridge and a Markham, and we’re a whole lot more than friends at this point. That means anything’s possible.”

Hunter let out a groan that seemed to come from deep within. And finally—finally—a wry smile raised his lips. “Not when our families find out.”

“Your family…” I hesitated for a moment before plunging ahead. “Do you think they’ll hate me? And me being with you?”

He lifted a hand, tenderly brushing a strand of hair away from my face. “No. My family thinks the feud is pretty stupid. And they’ve learned firsthand that Coleridges have a good side—after that fiasco with Ben and the fact that he was innocent.”

I bit my lip, thinking of my own family. “Speaking of Ben. My brothers…” My stomach tightened at the thought. “Hunter, there’s a good chance they’ll want to kill you.”

That slow smile I loved so much stretched Hunter’s full mouth, and a devilish glint shone in his eyes. “Is that right? I’d like to see them try.”

And at the thought of any of my brothers, all tall, solidly built men who never shied away from conflict, taking on this gigantic Special Forces Marine, my own smile rose. Laughing, I shook my head.

In the dim light that filtered through the curtains, I saw not the fearsome former Marine or the tormented man scarred by war and loss, but Hunter—the man whose resilience was woven tightly with vulnerability, whose strength was matched by curiosity. The man who could quote Hemingway, Shakespeare, and Sun Zhu with ease .

“Maybe I’d better try to talk them out of picking any fights with you.” I nudged him playfully with my foot.

We settled into a comfortable silence. As I snuggled closer to Hunter’s warmth, my mind wandered back to his harrowing tale, to the woman who had been more than just another soul caught in the crossfire. The schoolteacher… a widow with two children. My heart ached at the memory of the sorrow that had laced his voice. “Ayesha. Was she the one? The woman you said you were once in love with?”

He exhaled a long breath, and for a moment, I thought he might refuse to answer. But then he met my gaze, his eyes back to being a guarded fortress. “No,” he said simply, and there was a depth to his denial that begged for no further questions.

I nodded, letting the subject drop, though part of me wanted to delve deeper into the mystery. If the woman from his story wasn’t his lost love, then it made me wonder even more who had captured his heart.

And why she wasn’t by his side now.