Page 34 of Reverie
“Thank you?” he grates out.
“Yes, thank you. Because I saved the day once again. I took the bullet for everyone again—the literal bullet this time—and I prevented even more horrible things from happening to August. So I think the words you’re looking for are, ‘Thank you.’”
Hunter stares at me so hard I feel the physical weight of it.
“I was on the way. You should have waited.” He walks closer to me.
“Excuse me? First, how the fuck was I supposed to know that you were coming back? You were gone for hours in the first place! Was I supposed to let them go and dissect August like a fucking laboratory frog in an eighth-grade science class?”
“Winter,” he utters, his voice hoarse.
“No, don’t ‘Winter’ me!” I unleash torrents of rage on him. The wounds we face are too fresh, too close to the surface for us not to explode.
“What part ofI can’t lose youdon’t you understand!” He whips around, and I suck in a startled gasp when he throws the metal instrument tray into the wall.
It falls to the ground with a frightening crash. Kitty barks, reaching his limit. Growling at Hunter, he bares his teeth as he moves into a protective position in my lap.
“Fucking goddamnit, Winter,” Hunter croaks. He sounds so, so tired. “I can’t lose you. I won’t lose you. If you’re not here, I might as well not be.”
A tear balances on his lower lashes, and he sniffs and looks away, preventing it from dropping and pretending it was never there in the first place.
“Don’t say shit like that, Hunter Brigham. Your life shouldn’t be tied to anyone else’s, not even mine.”
He straightens, folding his arms over his chest. Blocking me physically as much as he is emotionally.
We’re silent, the unspoken words swimming in the space between our bodies.
“I don’t know what to tell you, Sunbeam,” is his reply.
“Okay,” is all I can say in response.
He jerks his head down—a sharp nod.
It’s a long moment before I say, “Will you help me up to find August? I really…I really need to see him, H.”
He nods, finally stepping closer to me. “Yes. But first, you need to rest for a little bit.” He looks at his watch, and I notice with dismay that a smear of blood mars the face of it. “It’s almost five a.m.”
“Okay, H. You look exhausted,” I reply. I want to lift my arm to caress his face, but the wound on my shoulder prevents me from doing so.
Just a flesh wound, my ass.
“Hunter,” I say. “Come rest with me.” I run my fingers over my stomach. “With us.”
He stares at me as I let my peace offering hang in the air. When he steps closer and leans over me, I’m sure he will settle into the bed.
I’m sure he’ll call a truce.
But instead, he presses his lips to my forehead in a crushing kiss.
“Sleep, Sunbeam,” he says.
Instead, I cry once he walks out the door.
FIVE
HUNTER
Mom always loved the sunrise. On those brief visits when I’d stay with her at Amelia Manor, she’d make sure to take me down to that hidden lake and sit with me on that stupid log overlooking the water.