Page 28 of Challenged By the Mountain Man

"I think that means you owe me," she continues.

"Owe you what?"

"An answer. One question. Any question I want."

I finally look at her, and she's watching me with those lovely brown eyes, arms crossed under her breasts in a way that absolutely does not help my focus. "That's not how this works."

"You broke into my cabin, Griffin. The least you can do is answer one question."

She's got a point, and I hate that she's got a point.

"Fine," I say. "One question."

She's quiet for a moment, thinking, and I brace myself for something invasive. Something about why I'm up here. Why I live alone. Why I have nightmares I think I'm hiding better than I am.

"How did you get the scars?" she asks.

Of course. Of course she'd ask that.

I could lie. Could tell her it was an accident, a fire, something generic and safe that doesn't require follow-up questions. But she told me about the robbery. About her father. About the things that put those shadows in her eyes.

The least I can do is give her the truth.

"Military," I say. "Army. Special Forces."

Her eyes widen slightly. "You were deployed?"

"That's a second question."

"Griffin…"

"Yeah. I was deployed. Multiple times." I look back at the fire, because this is easier if I'm not meeting her eyes. "The scars are from an ambush. IED took out our convoy. Most of us didn't make it. I did."

The cabin is quiet except for the crackle of the fire and the coffee maker finishing its cycle. I can feel her watching me, processing.

"I'm sorry," she whispers.

"Don't be. It was a long time ago."

"That doesn't make it better."

"No. It doesn't."

She pours two mugs of coffee and brings one over, setting it on the floor beside me since I'm still crouching by the stove. She sits on the couch, tucking her feet under her, the quilts wrapped around her again.

"Can I ask you something else?" she says.

"You said one question."

"This is important."

I take a drink of coffee. It burns going down, but I don't care. "What?"

"Did you ever have a gun pointed at your face?"

I set the mug down slowly, trying to keep my hands steady. "Yeah."

"How did you get over it?"