32. Creed

CHAPTER 32

CREED

A sharp knock echoed through the room, the kind that jerks you out of a fitful sleep. I dragged myself up, the weight of the past few days still heavy on my shoulders. My body protested, sore from too many hours hunched over with my thoughts. Trent's reassuring presence seemed distant now, even though it'd only been a couple of hours. The cold air seeped through the cracks, making me shiver as I shuffled toward the door. I pressed my eye to the peephole, squinting into the dim light outside.

Avery.

My heart stuttered, a flicker of hope overshadowed by the weariness etched into his features. He looked tired, his skin drawn tight over his cheekbones like a mask. He'd lost weight. Even with that, he was still stunning—dark hair tousled and falling over his forehead, his eyes shimmering with an intensity that pulled me in, even from behind the door.

He shifted from foot to foot, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his gray hoodie. His jeans were snug, molding to his form, and I couldn't help but admire how they clung to his thighs. It was cold, four days after Christmas, and I wondered if he was even warm enough.

I yanked the door open, half-expecting to see a stranger in his place, but it was still him. "Creed! I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." The words tumbled out in a frantic rush as he pushed his way into the apartment, his breath coming in quick bursts. "I've been a total idiot."

He'd never spoken to me this way before, a whirlwind of emotions spilling out as he paced the small space like a caged animal. "I didn't give you a chance to be honest with me. I talked about my family, my trauma, everything that weighs me down. I made it all about me."

The heat of his words wrapped around me, prickling my skin, igniting something dormant.

"Avery—"

"No," he interrupted, shaking his head vigorously, eyes wide and pleading. He stopped pacing and stood in front of me. "It wasn't your fault for holding back. I made it clear I wasn't ready to listen, and I want you to know?—"

My heart clenched at his desperation, and I felt the wall I'd built start to crack. He stepped closer, his scent—a mix of cedar and something uniquely him—filling the air between us.

"Avery," I said softly, but he barreled on, his words tumbling together in a rush.

"I want to be with you, Creed. Truly. No matter what you've done, no matter what got you discharged, no matter who you are or what you've been through—I want to be the one you turn to. I just want the chance to prove it."

I swallowed hard, his confession…a promise… hanging in the air. I could see the raw sincerity in his eyes, glistening with unshed tears. I wanted to believe him, but fear clung to me, an old friend I couldn't shake off easily.

"Even if I'm broken?" My voice was barely above a whisper, laced with doubt.

"Especially if you're broken." He stepped closer, bridging the distance between us. "I want all of you, Creed. The good, the bad, the ugly. Just give me a chance."

I motioned for Avery to sit on my raggedy-ass bed. He sank into the worn mattress, his body language screaming discomfort. His legs bounced anxiously, and the weariness in his eyes clashed with the tension radiating off him.

"Just breathe," I murmured, even as I drew in a shaky breath myself. I shifted in my seat, trying to find the right words to explain the chaos that was my life.

Avery glanced around the cramped room, his gaze darting to the peeling paint and the old furniture, the mismatched pieces that seemed to echo the mess of my existence. "I didn't mean to… I just needed to talk to you," he stammered.

"I get that," I said, rubbing the back of my neck, feeling the tightness there, a familiar tension coiling in my chest.

His eyes widened, a flicker of concern crossing his features, urging me to go on. "Talk to me, Creed. I'll listen. I promise."

I took a moment to gather my thoughts, feeling the memories swirl inside me like a tornado. "I didn't have the easiest childhood," I started, my voice rough. "My dad… well, he was a real piece of work. Homophobic, a con man who couldn't see past his own twisted views. He thought me being a Marine would prove something—that I was a real man, a man's man.."

Avery's brow furrowed, and he leaned in, hanging on my every word. "What do you mean?"

I swallowed hard, the bitter taste of my past flooding my mouth. "I thought joining the Marines would make him proud. I thought it would fill that void." I could feel the tension in my chest tightening, memories clawing at the edges of my mind. "But what I saw over there… it changed everything."

"Changed how?" His voice was low, gentle, like he was afraid of breaking the fragile moment between us.

I shook my head, the ghosts of the past pressing in on me. "I threw myself into being the best Marine I could be. Thought I could prove I was strong enough, that I was worthy of something. But..." My voice trailed off, and my gaze fixed on the worn carpet beneath my feet, trying to keep the memories from swallowing me whole.

"But what?" Avery's eyes held mine, like a safe harbor amidst the storm I couldn't escape.

"It ate at me. The things I saw. Missions that were supposed to be ‘honorable' but felt like nightmares. There was this one… We were sent into a war zone, told we were there to liberate civilians from a rogue faction. But when we got there, I realized the so-called ‘enemy'... they were mostly kids. Barely old enough to hold a weapon." I paused, the words heavy on my tongue.

Avery's breath hitched. He leaned forward, his voice a low murmur. "You stood up against them?"

"I couldn't do it. Couldn't just… follow the order. I looked at those kids, saw their fear, and I thought... this isn't right. They weren't the enemy; they were victims. But my commanding officer? He didn't see it that way. Called me a coward, said I was jeopardizing the mission. And maybe he was right about that part. I did hesitate. I couldn't pull the trigger."

My chest tightened as the memories surged. The shouting, the chaos, the way my squad turned cold. "You don't question orders in the Marines. Not like that. And when you do, they make an example out of you. They put me in the brig—held me there while they figured out how to deal with me. My refusal, it became a problem they needed to bury. Eventually, they gave me a choice: take the dishonorable discharge and keep my mouth shut, or face a court-martial."

Avery's expression softened, a mix of disbelief and sadness. "They just... let you go?"

I nodded, a bitter laugh escaping me. "Let me go? Yeah, if you want to call it that. They made sure I knew I'd never get another shot at military service. And they made damn sure I couldn't use what I knew against them. I had to sign papers—NDAs, legal binds. They sealed the records, scrubbed everything clean. No criminal charges, no felony. But the discharge... it's a stain you don't wash off. They kept their secrets, and I got a lifetime of silence."

The weight of it all threatened to crush me. I looked down, the shame creeping up my spine. "It was a way out, but it didn't feel like one. It felt like... like I'd lost everything. The brothers I thought I had, the sense of purpose... all gone. And now? Now I'm just this guy with a bunch of memories I'm not allowed to talk about."

Avery's eyes locked onto mine, steady and unwavering. "I believe you," he said, his voice low and sincere. "Whatever happened, I know you're a good man."

I wanted to scoff, to dismiss his words as pity wrapped in kindness, but instead, they hung in the space between us like fragile glass. "Are you really sure about that?" My voice wavered.

He leaned closer. "I know what I see, Creed." His breath brushed against my skin, the closeness electrifying, igniting a flicker of hope deep within me. "You're not your past. You've fought against it. You've fought for those kids."

A lump formed in my throat. "You really think that?" My voice cracked under the weight of vulnerability.

"I know it. You stood up for what was right, even when it cost you everything. That takes courage."

Courage. The word shimmered with possibility. I could feel something within me beginning to stir, pushing back against the shame that had wrapped itself around me for so long. Avery's unwavering belief was like a key, unlocking doors I thought were forever sealed.

He watched me intently, as if he could see the battle raging inside. "Just let go, Creed. Trust me."

His words washed over me, and for the first time in a long while, I felt the tight grip on my heart begin to loosen. I exhaled slowly, and as I did, I leaned closer, closing the distance between us, the pulse of my heartbeat in my ears.

And then, with a sudden rush, I closed the gap. Our lips met softly, tentatively, a hesitant exploration, like we were rediscovering each other. Avery's warmth enveloped me, pulling me in, and I found myself melting into him. The kiss deepened, transforming uncertainty into something beautiful, igniting a fire that had long been buried beneath layers of shame and regret.

When we finally broke apart, breathless, I looked into his eyes, searching for affirmation. "I love you, Creed." His words were a gentle caress, brushing against my heart and filling the empty spaces I thought would remain forever void.

A rush of warmth flooded my chest. "I love you too," I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper, but the sincerity behind it echoed louder than any battle cry I'd ever heard.

In that moment, the shadows of my past began to fade, replaced by the light of something new—something worth fighting for.