Chapter 9

chapter

nine

Pierce rolled over on his sleeping mat. He couldn't get comfortable. Too many thoughts raced in his mind, too many memories storming through his consciousness, and it didn't help that someone was snoring loudly.

He squeezed his eyes shut, and he tried to push away the memories, the explosion, the metallic taste of fear, the cold sting of the shrapnel that sliced open his neck, the hot spurt of his blood between his fingers as he gasped for breath that refused to come. He remembered the horror in the eyes of the medics as they loaded him onto a helicopter. They hadn't expected him to survive. Hell, he hadn't expected it, and he'd been shocked to wake up in Germany with his head still on his shoulders.

He'd always suspected he'd been the true target of that attack. Yeah, the army had claimed it was a random act of aggression against their convoy, but he knew better. He'd left Project Iron Horizon barely a month before that "random act of aggression." He'd voiced his concerns about the Tectra-X weapon, and so they had tried to silence him.

Permanently.

And they had managed to take away his voice, but he'd known it wouldn't be good enough for them. They wanted him gone, so he'd disappeared, and he'd thought—hoped—that would be the end of it.

But last month, when Redwood Coast Rescue took down that fucking cult, he'd known right then that his quiet life was crashing down around him. The cult leader had been obsessed with finding a device…

His device.

Tectra-X.

And so, as soon as he was able, he'd packed a bag and left, hoping to spare his teammates the inevitable shitstorm headed his way.

His thoughts turned to his friends at RWCR. Sawyer. Zak. Donovan. Veronica. The four of them had been his lifeline, a family who knew nothing of his past but accepted him nonetheless. They embraced his silence and let him be, giving him the distance he craved. But even with them, he always had one foot out the door, ready to vanish at the first hint of danger.

He rubbed at his scars. They felt tighter than usual like they were choking him. Or maybe that was panic.

Yeah, definitely panic.

He reached down by his side, searching for the comforting warmth of his dog…

Raszta wasn't there.

His eyes popped open, and he shot upright, scanning the room in a frantic sweep. His gaze landed on Rhia a few feet away, and the panic swirling inside him calmed to a mild buzz of anxiety. She was sound asleep, her chest rising and falling gently with each easy breath. Raszta was stretched out on his back beside her, his feet in the air, his tongue hanging out, happy as a clam with her arm around him.

Pierce felt a strange jab of… something.

Jealousy?

Was he jealous that his dog was curled up beside her?

No.

That was ridiculous.

Pierce exhaled, the tension leaving his body as he sank back to his mat.

Raszta was okay.

Rhia was okay.

He was okay.

For now.

His gaze lingered on Rhia, the quiet rustle of her breath lulling him into a trance. The little bit of moonlight filtering through the rubble illuminated her face, casting a soft, ethereal glow around her. Her lips parted on a soft sigh, and a bolt of yearning shot through him, sharp and unexpected.

Jesus.

This was wrong.

She was his friend's sister.

She was off-limits.

And yet.

He couldn't stop the way his heart tripped over itself whenever she smiled or shot him one of her knowing, understanding glances. He couldn't stop wanting to be the one she turned to for comfort instead of his dog. The way her thumb traced absent patterns on Raszta's fur as she slept made him wonder how it would feel to have those gentle fingers tracing over his skin instead. He hadn't been touched with kindness in so long that he'd almost forgotten what it felt like, but looking at Rhia now, he could almost imagine it.

Rhiannon Cross was more dangerous to him than Halston or anyone else who wanted his secrets. She was dangerous because he wanted to let her in, wanted to share those secrets and his fears, and wanted her to understand him in a way no one else did. She was dangerous because she could unravel him.

And that was a vulnerability he couldn't afford.

He watched her sleep for a while longer, his heart pounding heavily in his chest with a longing so fierce it made his breath hitch. Before he could question his actions, he found himself moving, closing the distance between them.

Raszta's ears twitched at his approach, the dog lifting his head a fraction before snuggling closer to Rhia. He scowled at his dog. The little shit was rubbing it in.

He made a hand motion, commanding Raszta to move. Go to bed.

Razzy opened one eye and looked at him, his tail thunking lightly. He didn't seem at all inclined to obey.

Pierce gave the signal again, more insistent this time. Bed.

With a grumble, the dog uncurled himself from Rhiannon's side, moving to his own sleeping mat. Her hand fell limply onto the mat after Raszta left, an unconscious frown marring her peaceful face.

He reached out, hesitating for a moment before letting his fingers lightly graze her hand. His touch, as light as it was, drew her from the depths of sleep, and he immediately felt guilty for disturbing her rest.

Her eyes fluttered open, meeting his, and confusion turned into surprise, then to a soft understanding. A gentle smile tugged at her lips. "Can't sleep?"

"Sorry," he signed. "I don't know why… I shouldn't have…"

"It's okay." She sat up, drawing her knees to her chest, and patted the mat beside her. "Join me."

He hesitated and glanced at Raszta, who was watching them with a stink eye, then dropped to the mat.

She said nothing for a few moments, just sat there with her arms wrapped around her knees. That beautiful green-gold gaze studied him, and he felt strangely exposed under her scrutiny. Yet he didn't look away. Couldn't. He saw his chance at redemption in those gentle eyes, and the possibility of it gripped his heart with an iron fist.

"Nightmares?" she asked finally.

He didn't want to answer. Didn't want her to know about the horrors that haunted his dreams. But he found himself giving a single nod in response.

Her gaze softened, and she reached out to touch his hand. "You don't have to tell me what they're about if you don't want to."

He looked at their hands, her fingers so small and soft next to his battle-scarred ones. His heart hammered against his ribs, and for a moment, he was tempted to pull away, to retreat into the safety of his silence. But he didn't. He stayed, his hand beneath hers, the warmth of her touch seeping into him, grounding him.

"Here." She scooted over on the mat and lay down. "Join me. I'll scare the nightmares away."

"Because you're so scary," he signed before he thought better of it.

She laughed softly and then bared her teeth in a very unconvincing snarl. "I am scary. Bad dreams don't stand a chance against me."

He believed that. Not because she was fearsome or formidable but because she was warm and kind, and her very presence seemed to chase away the shadows that clung to him.

Despite himself, he found a genuine smile tugging at his lips. She did have that effect on him.

She patted the space beside her again. "Come on."

He hesitated for just a moment longer before lowering himself onto the mat, his body rigid as he kept a respectful distance between them.

For a while, neither of them spoke. The quiet of the night enveloped them, the distant creaks of the building and soft breaths of the others the only sounds breaking the stillness. Pierce lay on his back, staring up at the dim ceiling, acutely aware of how close Rhiannon was. Even with the distance he kept between them, he could feel the warmth radiating from her. It was oddly soothing, the kind of warmth that chased away the cold lingering in his bones from years of silence and isolation.

"You don't have to carry so many secrets, you know," she said softly.

He turned his head to look at her, eyebrow raised in question.

Rhiannon shrugged, her eyes thoughtful as they met his. "I mean, you don't have to bear everything alone. You could let someone in. Let someone—ugh, I'm talking in circles. " She shook her head and shifted to face him. "I want you to let me in, Pierce. Even if it's just a little. Let me share some of the weight you carry."

Pierce swallowed back the sudden surge of anxiety. Let her in? Could he do that? He'd spent so many years building walls, keeping everyone at arm's length.

But she was right. Part of him wanted to. Desperately.

He just wasn't sure he even knew how to let someone close anymore.

His hand moved almost on its own as he signed, "I can't. It's easier this way. I don't hurt people if I keep my distance."

Her brow furrowed as she watched him. "Hurt people? Pierce, you're not going to hurt anyone by letting them care about you."

He closed his eyes, fighting the emotions swelling inside him. "I already have. So many people."

She touched his arm, her fingers brushing lightly against his skin, sending a shiver through him. "If that's true, then you're not the person I think you are. But it's not true. I know exactly who you are."

Her soft words broke something inside him. Without thinking, he turned to face her fully, his hand cupping her cheek. She didn't flinch. She didn't pull away. She just looked at him with those bright, understanding eyes, like she already knew the darkest parts of him but wasn't scared away.

For the first time in a long time, Pierce felt exposed and yet… safe.

"Rhia…" he mouthed, but didn't know what else to say and didn't want to take his hands off her to sign. His throat tightened with emotions he wasn't used to.

Her hand covered his on her cheek. "It's okay," she whispered, her breath warm against his fingertips.

He didn't know who moved first. Maybe it was him, or maybe it was her. But the next thing he knew, his lips were on hers, the kiss soft, tentative, and achingly sweet.

She sighed into the kiss, her body relaxing beside him, and all the tension that had been knotting his muscles since the earthquake finally loosened. It felt right. More right than anything he'd felt in a long time, and he never wanted it to end.

Pierce lost himself in the gentle press of her lips against his, the caress of her fingertips along his stubbled jaw. For a few precious moments, the rest of the world fell away—the crumbling building around them, the threats lurking in the shadows, the dark memories that haunted him. There was only Rhiannon. Her warmth, her sweetness, the way she made him feel like he could finally breathe again after years of suffocating silence.

He deepened the kiss, his hand sliding from her cheek into her hair, fingers tangling in the silky strands. Rhiannon's arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer until their bodies were flush against each other. He felt her every curve, every breath, and it sent a thrill humming through his veins.

God, he could lose himself in her. Forget about the secrets, the scars, all the ugliness in his past, and just exist in this perfect moment with her. Let her warmth and light chase away all his shadows…

When they finally pulled apart, they didn't speak. She just smiled and rested her head on his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around her, pulled her close, and felt something he hadn't in years…

Peace.