Page 91 of Reverie

Now would be a great time to use your training.

“When you…” I search for the right word. “When you stop communicating with me, I feel insignificant. I feel in danger.”

There. I said it.

Hunter blinks at me and his hand on my face stills. “You feel that I’m a danger to you?” His words are…hurt.

I take a steadying breath. “No, that’s not what I said. I said I don’t feel safe when I am ignored by you.”

I count my breaths—one, two, three—and his hand falls from my face when he rises. When he walks over to the edge of the bathroom and turns to me, leaning on the doorjamb, I stand too.

“I feel better,” I say, desperate to change the subject, even if this confrontation is needed. “I’m going to brush my teeth.”

Hunter nods, then looks to the floor, rubbing his top lip with the back of his thumbnail before heading back into the bedroom.

I make quick work of cleaning the vomit taste from my tongue, and the mint in the toothpaste and Listerine help quell my nausea. But still, when I turn off the taps, I don’t move from my spot at the counter.

Hunter returns, taking up his previous spot in the doorway, and asks, “You good?”

Our gazes clash. “Yes, Hunter. I’m good now.”

He nods sharply and steps away from the exit, putting his hand out to indicate that I should go past the threshold.

The smell of disinfectant hits me, but I’m grateful that it isn’t pungent. The spots where I puked on the floor are cleaned. I turn back to the bathroom and see Hunter standing at the entrance, drying his hands on a white towel.

“They’re going to hand Ella over soon,” Hunter says without preamble.

The devastation that he clearly feels seems to take over his body. He clutches the towel between his hands, winding the material around his fingers as he starts to move restlessly around the room. I know he wants to rage, but I’m still caught off guard when he picks up the decorative crystal statue situated on a small end table and throws it at the wall.

It shatters into a million pieces. We’re both silent in the crash.

He lets out a dark chuckle, and without looking at me, he says, “If you were scared of me before, I’m sure you’re terrified now.”

I involuntarily raise my hand to my neck, and the other goes over my belly, over our child.

“Hunter,” I begin. There are so many things I want to say, but I’m unsure which one will set him off.

“Everything you think is always right on your face, baby. I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking that it’s her choice to make, and you’re right. But still, I can’t fucking stand it.”

He starts to pace again but gives up and flops to a seat on the bed, grabbing his thick, dark hair in both hands. His knuckles turn white as he pulls.

“I’m going to lose my sister,” he rasps.

The statement moves me into action.

“You don’t know that, Hunter.”

“Yes, I do.”

I huff. “Well, shit. I didn’t know you were clairvoyant. Why haven’t you told me this before? Surely we could have avoided some terrible moments, yeah?”

He glances up at me, and while I’m sure he doesn’t fully appreciate my quip, there’s a slight tilt to his mouth.

I sit next to him on the bed, our bodies touching from shoulder to knee.

“Misha’s plan is for me to contact Winthrope and tell him to meet on Isla Cara.”

I nod. “That could be a good move. Known territory and all that.”