Page 107 of Reverie

I scramble off the bed and enter the bathroom.

As Hunter leans over the counter with his palms flat on the granite and his head hanging low, there’s only one way to describe him.

He’s haunted. What demons are chasing him right now?

In the moments while I contemplated everything, he turned on the shower and steam mists around the enclosed space.

“I’m not going to let you do this to us,” I say, pushing my shoulders back. When he lifts his head with agonizing slowness, he doesn’t look at me directly. He chooses to give attention to my reflection.

“Sunbeam,” he says. He sounds exhausted.

“No, Hunter. You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to ask me to be completely open to you and then push me away. You don’t get to tell me to hand you my pain when you won’t share any of yours.”

He turns his face away from me, but not before I see his jaw flex.

“You don’t get to see me in my most broken and not allow me to hold you when you break.”

He lets out a low curse and gets in the shower, slapping the glass door closed so hard that I’m surprised that it doesn’t shatter.

Turn around. Leave the room, Winter.

I do the opposite of what I should. I follow him, but he sighs heavily as if he expects me to defy him again.

“I need space, Winter,” he says, and for some insane reason, I can’t accept that answer.

I know I should. IknowI should.

But I’m?—

But I’m…obsessing.

“You’re allowed to have boundaries, Hunter, but this feels more like you putting the Great Wall of China between us.”

He keeps his back to me, pumping body wash on the loofah and working it into a lather.

“I’m doing nothing of the sort, baby. I’m trying to protect you. I need space right now because I’ll hurt you. I almost just did.” He emphasizes his statement by scrubbing the hard plastic over his arms and chest.

“No, you didn’t!” I shout, and the sound echoes against the tile. He whirls around and his face is like stone.

“What do you want from me, Winter!” he shouts back, his voice rising above mine.

What do I want from him?

The trepidation triples in my chest.

I take a deep breath. “I want you to trust me.”

“I do trust you,” he grits out.

I shake my head. “No, you don’t. Clearly. Because if you trusted me, you’d trust me to make my own decisions. You’d trust that I’m strong enough to be there for you. To be your partner. Tobeyour soulmate.”

I take his hand and place it between my thighs.

“What was it you said? Give me your pain. Give me your hurt. Don’t carry this pain in your heart all alone.” The words are a soft vow.

“Winter…” He closes his eyes and tilts his head back. I take the opening to press my body against his, and he doesn’t move his hand from my pussy.

“Give me the hurt, Hunter,” I whisper against his pectoral, right over the fading scar I gave him on that same night.