Page 127 of Reverie
“I know I feared that you’d take after him, but I get it now. I see your heart. You are not a monster, Hunter.”
I want to walk away, instead, I stay rooted in this spot.
“You and Winter…I dreamed of having a love like you two have, Hunter. I truly did. And I’m so incredibly glad to see thatyoudohave it.” She puts her hand on my shoulder. I turn my head away from her and stare at the wall.
“Hunter, allow yourself to heal from what has been done to you. Don’t throw this gift you’ve been given away.”
The seconds tick on as her words spin in my brain.
Winter is a gift—the most precious gift in my life, alongside August and the child we’re bringing into this world.
I don’t want to throw it away. I don’t want to push her away. And yet….
“I’m afraid,” I say, my voice so low that I’m sure she can’t hear the words.
“I know, Hunter. I know.” She squeezes my shoulder. “But I promise you that with you and Winter? If you both work at it, it will be okay.”
I am very conscious of my inhalation and exhalation; I force myself to count just as Winter taught me.
When I feel the crushing weight of her declaration release its stronghold around my neck, I relax my shoulders. Mom pats me on the back and stands.
“Go sleep in a real bed tonight, yeah?” she says with laughter in her voice. “We’re keeping an eye on Winthrope and Ella’s training is going well. We’re close, Hunter, but this,” she motions to the piles of papers and the now sleeping computer, “isn’t going anywhere. It’s okay to rest.” She picks up a stack of legal pads and loose-leaf paper and taps the documents on the table to straighten them. The action causes a forgotten granola bar wrapper to flutter to the floor. “You can shut it down for a night.”
I nod and she gives me another pat on the shoulder. When she goes to remove her hand, I grab it on instinct. She stills at the touch, and I spin in my chair, hugging her, planting my face in her stomach as if I were a child. It’s like she’s not breathingfor several long moments as I hold her, but then, when her arms wrap around me, we both relax into the embrace.
“If you remember nothing else, remember this: I am proud of the man you have become, Hunter James Brigham, and I love you.”
I bite my lip.
I squeeze her one last time and sit back in my chair, moving the laptop to give my hands something to do.
But I surprise myself when I say, “Ditto.”
Her smile is radiant.
“Shit!” I shout and we both jump when the door claps open again and the overhead lights come on, blazing.
Misha, Luna, and Max rush into the room, followed by Leo. Their faces are serious, with a slight edge of panic, so I jump into action alongside them.
I stumble, though, when Winter enters the room.
She wears a plain white T-shirt and black yoga pants—a simple outfit for a random Tuesday. But I can’t stop staring at her neck. Even though her flesh has healed, I can only see the ring of my handprint around her throat.
Like me, she has dark circles under her eyes, and she clutches Kitty, who gives me a menacing glare, to her chest.
I want to say something, anything.
“Hunter,” she whispers, and it’s like a gong going off in the room. The sound of my name coming from her lips has me wanting to run toward her while also forcing the feeling of wanting to run away.
Run away so I can’t taint her anymore.
Ella charges into the room, and I’m saved from my pining by Leo’s clap on my shoulder, spinning me away from Winter and toward the television screen.
The two agents from the bombing, who I now see are from Homeland Security, stand behind a podium surrounded by atleast fifteen other officials. The shorter male agent begins to speak.
“The Chevy Chase Bombing earlier this month has claimed four hundred and forty-nine lives to date.”
The statement shoots ice through my veins.