He hesitated for a moment as if he wanted to say something more but then thought better of it.Instead, he nodded once and headed toward the stairs.
As I watched him go, I couldn't help but feel a pang of empathy for him.Whatever his past held, whatever demons he was battling, I hoped he would find some measure of peace here at my inn.
With a sigh, I returned to my tasks, trying to focus on the present rather than dwelling on the mysteries of Christian's past.After all, if he ever decided to open up to me, I'd be here ready to listen.
For now, though, I'd let him have his secrets.
I just hoped he'd kiss me again.
Chapter15
Christian
The chill bit into my skin as I stepped outside.The sky held onto its darkness, stubbornly refusing to surrender to dawn.My breath formed clouds, the only warmth in the cold morning air.I stretched, muscles stiff from sleep and yesterday's tension.The world was silent, save for the crunch of frost beneath my feet.
I started at a slow jog, letting the rhythm of my steps clear my mind.It had been a good night; no bad dreams to shake me awake, no haunting memories of old missions.Instead, I dreamed of Claire.Her lips, the way they tasted, how her touch had a warmth that seemed to melt the ice around my heart.
Pushing harder, I increased my pace, the cold air burning my lungs.Each stride took me further from the thoughts of her, yet they clung stubbornly to my mind.Her kindness was disarming, and it scared me more than any enemy ever had.With them, I knew what to expect.I knew where I stood.But her?I didn't know shit.She was an enigma wrapped in warmth and understanding.
Rounding a corner, I noticed Christmas lights strung along the houses, their colors muted in the pre-dawn gloom.In a few days, it would be Christmas.A time for joy and family—concepts that felt foreign now.I pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on the rhythm of my feet against the pavement.
For a moment, I allowed myself to imagine what it would be like to kiss her again, to let her warmth envelop me.
But then I sped up again.I couldn’t afford distractions; not now.The run served as a reminder of discipline, of control over my own emotions and actions.
By the time I circled back to my starting point, sweat trickled down my back despite the cold.The sky had lightened slightly, promising a new day but revealing little else.
Another day in this small town where her presence loomed larger than I'd like to admit.
I paused outside the inn, breathing heavily but feeling more centered.Maybe this place could be more than just another stop on my journey.Maybe she could be more than just a fleeting connection.
But those were thoughts for another time.For now, I needed a shower and some breakfast.
I stepped into the inn, my breath still visible in the cold air.The warmth inside welcomed me, and I took a moment to savor it before heading to my room.The shower was a quick, efficient affair—years of military training left no room for lingering under hot water.I scrubbed off the remnants of my morning run, letting the steam work its magic on my stiff muscles.
After dressing in fresh clothes, I made my way downstairs, drawn by the smell of freshly brewed coffee and frying bacon.The inn’s dining area was modest but cozy, with a few guests scattered around small tables.
Claire moved gracefully between them, her smile bright even in the early morning.I grabbed a cup of coffee and found a seat near the window.The warmth of the mug seeped into my hands as I sipped, listening to the murmur of conversations around me.
“I read about that mission in Hong Kong,” a guest said at a nearby table.The voice cut through the hum of breakfast chatter.
“Really?I didn’t think anyone here would know about that,” Claire replied.
“It was quite an article,” the guest continued.“Heroism like that isn’t something you forget easily.”
I froze mid-sip, my senses on high alert.My name wasn’t mentioned yet, but the subject matter was too close for comfort.Keeping my head down, I listened intently.
“It’s not every day you hear about someone saving lives under such extreme conditions,” the guest added.
“Sounds like quite a story,” Claire said, her voice laced with genuine curiosity.
“It was more than a story—it was extraordinary,” the guest insisted.“Christian Cross, former SAS soldier, took on impossible odds and saved those hostages.And I hear he's here.In this inn.Is it true?"
My grip tightened on the coffee cup as Claire responded.
“That does sound incredible,” she said thoughtfully.“But even if it were, it's not my place to say one way or the other."
“That’s the mystery, isn’t it?”the guest replied.“People like him don’t just vanish without reason.”
