“It’s okay. I haven’t even thought twice about it.” And I haven’t, but now with those words, I wonder what is so important that he’d call me at one in the morning to tell me.

“It’s not okay. You shared and I didn’t.” He pauses. “I don’t have any skeletons in my closet when it comes to my dating life. Like you, I date, but I’ve rarely let anyone get close. I had a lot to deal with after everything that happened over there.”

“Okay.” And I’m sure that a lot to deal with is yet another understatement of how grueling it had to have been to recover from such horrific injuries. Mentally and physically.

“And before I start, full disclosure. I may have had a few drinks of liquid courage in order to make this call.”

“Liquid courage is sometimes needed,” I murmur, suddenly on edge about whatever he wants to divulge.

“As is a phone call, because to say this face to face is harder.” He emits a nervous chuckle that is so damn endearing.

“Noted.”

After a deep breath, he says, “After . . . everything, I needed to heal first. I was also still in the service and promised myself that I wouldn’t ever let someone get attached to me, because what if it happened again? I couldn’t put someone through that like my brothers who didn’t come home did.”

“Gunner, you don’t have to explain this.”

“I want to. Please. I’ve been sitting here serving drinks all night while feeling like shit that you opened yourself up to me and I didn’t do the same for you. Okay?”

“Okay,” I whisper.

“So it was my excuse while I was enlisted—I kept the women I dated during that time at a distance because I didn’t want to hurt them. It was only after I was discharged, and couldn’t use that excuse anymore, that I realized I also couldn’t let anyone get close until I dealt with the trauma of it all myself. I had to come to terms with the horrific things I saw and did. While I don’t think I ever will, I’ve learned to live with them. To cope with them. And for the longest while, I knew I had to fix myself before I’d let anyone else get close enough to see the scars on the inside that were way worse than the ones on the outside. I was afraid both sets would scare them away.”

A tear slides down my cheek and I shove it away. He just freaking laid bare his soul to me, his vulnerabilities, and I’m more than stunned. Men don’t do this. They don’t talk like this. They don’t open themselves up and explain.

Or at least I’ve never been with one who has. Then again, maybe I’ve never cared to listen.