Page 120 of Reverie

Summer twitches in her bassinet, cracking an eye open with a grumpy side-eye.

“It’s more dangerous out there,” I murmur, and she laughs.

It’s a sharp crack in the otherwise silent kitchen.

“Do you really think so, Winter? Can’t you see what’s happened? You’re back to where you were a decade ago—hiding away, locking yourself in, thinking you’re safe from the outside world when in reality, the most dangerous threat is here within yourself.”

The tears crest and fall now, and my stomach churns at her accusations.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say.

“Do this for me,” she offers, crossing her arms tight across her chest. “I want you to catalog all the shit that’s happened to you in the past year. How many of those things have Hunter Brigham as the root cause?”

I swallow and look away from her.

“Nope, don’t avoid the question, Winter,” she demands.

“Stop it, Veronica!” I shout, and Summer begins to wail. I reach for her instinctively, but Veronica reaches her first, stepping in front of me so I can’t touch the baby. I bring my hands to my chest, stunned, flopping back onto my stool.

Veronica shushes Summer while she bounces her on her hip. Summer plants her face into her mother’s shoulder.

“First, the man lies to you about being engaged. Then he does nothing to keep you protected—really protected—when he knows he’s being chased by some affluent goons. Then he knocks you up. Did you all have a conversation about this, at least? Like,you know how babies are made, and I’m sure that Genevieve would have told you that getting pregnant while still recovering from a huge trauma is a bad idea.”

My leg starts to pop up and down with agitation. But the idea knocks on the door where I’ve firmly placed it: That Hunter did bring up the idea of pregnancy, and I didn’t say no.

But I didn’t give an enthusiastic yes, either.

I shake my head, nausea threatening to bring back up the pieces of sourdough and soup.

“Then he gets you involved with the fucking mafiya and puts you into a situation where you have tokillpeople. Murder, Winter!”

“I did what I had to do,” I mumble through numb lips.

“Sure, but why did youhaveto do it? Because of Hunter, that’s why. And now…” She puts her hand on Summer’s head, looking at the ceiling, and I’m startled when she starts to cry. “And now he’s hurt you. Really hurt you, Winter.”

I bring my hand to my neck. It’s so hard for me to say that…I didn’t hate the bruises. I didn’t hate what we did.

I didn’t hate it at all.

Shouldn’t I have hated it?

Confusion makes my head spin.

Veronica sucks her teeth. “Hunter Brigham must have some magical dick if you’re allowing yourself to be manhandled by him.”

I push away from the table and stand, mirroring her pose.

“My sex life with Hunter is none of your business, Veronica, but to set your nerves at ease, I fully consented to everything that happened that night.”

“Just like you consented to getting knocked up?”

“Yes!” I yell. “Just like that.” I’m vibrating, shaking, unsettled. She keeps bringing this up, and every time she does, I feel….

“Winter, little miss doctoral degree in psychology, youknowthat you could not consent to shit in your state.”

“I was of sound mind?—”

“You were depressed and traumatized?—”