30. Winter

THIRTY

WINTER

T he drive back to Amelia Manor is quiet and tense—the oppressive silence between the car's other occupants heightens the sense of impending doom.

Leo calls, and Hunter responds to his questions in short "yeses" or "nos," giving nothing away.

Every bump makes me gasp, my fingers clutching the fabric of Hunter's pants as if that singular lifeline could ensure nothing bad happens while we drive home.

Don't worry until there's something to worry about, my ass.

This indeed constitutes something to worry about.

"H," I whisper, my face pressed against the crack between the door and the back of his seat.

"Yes, Winter," he says in a flat, serious tone.

"Who's following us? Your father?" I keep my voice low as if whoever is chasing us could hear inside the car.

Hunter's silence makes a statement. "We're not being followed right now."

I swallow at his words, dread at the pointed non-answer comingling with the heavy fear swirling in my stomach.

Or maybe that's morning sickness coming back.

Hold on, little baby .

It isn't until we're firmly behind the gates of Amelia Manor, the SUV parked in the massive ten-car garage, that Hunter says another word.

"Go to our room and rest. I'll be up in a minute."

That's it. That simple command is all he gives me, as if we haven't spent the last forty-five minutes in fear for our lives.

"Are you going to tell me what the fuck just happened back there?" I nearly yell, contorting myself to sit in the car seat correctly.

"Not now, Winter," Hunter growls.

Rio leaves the driver's seat and walks around the front of the car to talk to the other guards.

"Hunter, I deserve to know what's happening!"

"Winter, I swear to God, just do what you're fucking told!" he snaps at me, his voice too loud in the tiny space. His decree echoes in my ears, and I jump. He's never spoken to me like that, and his harsh words cause involuntary tears to spring to my eyes.

His head thuds against the headrest and he pinches his eyes shut.

"Sunbeam..." he says with a sigh, but I don't stay to listen to more of his words.

I whip the door open, practically running to our bedroom.

It takes everything within me not to slam the door.

Being in this room feels strange after the intensity of the last day and a half.

Finding out I'm pregnant.

Running away and having an anxiety meltdown.

Intense lovemaking and intimacy with Hunter back at my old apartment.

The pseudo proposal.

The ultrasound.

And then a car chase.

I flop back on the bed, the plush mattress sinking under me and contouring to my body. I press the heels of my hands to my eyes to stem the tears streaming out of them.

Feel what you feel, Winter.

So I do. My breakdown is silent, letting the swirling mix of anxiety and terror and joy and hope blend inside me like some fucked-up emotional gumbo.

I'm not alone for five minutes before a light tap on the door shakes me out of my daze.

"Come in," I say in a voice that doesn't sound like mine.

Veronica pops her head around the door, and through the opening, Kitty bounds in, jumping on the bed. He puts his head in my lap.

Veronica chews on her lip, which is an unusual move for her. "Can I come in?"

I sit up, wiping my face roughly with both hands. "Of course," I say.

She sits primly on the chair across from me, clasping her hands together as she perches her body on the edge of the seat.

I inhale, holding my breath in before blowing it out in a long stream.

"I'm sorry I disappeared on you, Veronica."

"Again," she says through tense lips. "You disappeared again."

Then, as if all the energy she funneled into her desire to be composed evaporates, her face crumples into an ugly cry.

I rush to her, and Kitty flops over on the bed at my sudden movement. "Oh, Rons, I'm so sorry. I wasn't thinking. I?—"

"You can't do shit like that, Winter!" I pull her to stand, clutching her trembling body close to mine.

"I'm so sorry. I just—I'm so sorry. I won't do that to you again. Ever. I promise."

She pulls away from me and wipes her nose on the sleeve of her shirt. I must make a face because she says, "I don't care if it's disgusting. "

"As if I would judge you," I reply in a level tone.

"Winter, what the hell is going on?"

She looks at me, and I know she deserves the truth. I owe her that much.

At least you can use your big girl words.

"Okay, settle in, bitch," I say with a wry smile. I hop on the bed, patting the space in front of me. She sits, and Kitty makes space between us.

I reach out to pet him, giving him scratches on his back.

"You're stalling," she says as she settles more fully on the bed.

I laugh, but it falls short of humored. "Where the fuck do I begin?" I say.

"How about you start yesterday? One minute, we're about to have tea and crumpets?—"

"Really, Rons? Tea and crumpets?"

"—and the next thing, you've literally left the building!" She waves her hands around her head to emphasize her words.

"Whew, okay, so thing number one," I begin. Then I swallow. For fucking real, where do I start?

"To explain yesterday, I have to go back a little more. So shortly after I got back home, I learned that Hunter's dad had something to do with my disappearance."

She doesn't move. Not even her expression changes. "Did you—is this not news to you?"

She shakes her head so slowly it's like her neck sits on frozen, rusty hinges. "No, it's not. I found that out shortly after you disappeared."

Oh. Well then.

"Oh-kay," I mutter. "I guess that's not the point. We've been on high alert for several months because no one knows where Hunter's dad is. Like, he's obviously fucking insane and willing to hurt me, August, and Hunter. So Hunter and Leo got some help from this?— "

I break off, unsure how to describe Misha without completely freaking Veronica out or getting on the bad side of a mob boss. Loose lips sink ships and all that bullshit.

"Friend," I conclude.

"Let me guess, tall Russian motherfucker?"

"How? Um. No, he's Ukrainian, actually."

Veronica shrugs.

"Okay, later. I'll ask you how you know about him later. Anyway, the trip Hunter went on had something to do with Misha. Misha's offering us protection somehow, but I'm not clear…."

I realize I don't actually know what's happening. All I know is that Hunter thinks we're in trouble, and we are if today's events are any indication.

I just jumped in, trusting whatever he said and asking no questions.

Who the fuck am I right now?

"Okay, that's all great and all, but yesterday? What happened yesterday ?" She enunciates her words, emphasizing them with a poke to my kneecap.

"Ow! Okay, right," I say, fidgeting. I don't know why I'm so nervous to share this with Veronica. She's my best friend, my sister, and honestly, she should have been there with me while I was peeing on the pregnancy test.

"I'm pregnant," I blurt out. I drop my gaze to my stretchy pants, not wanting to meet her eyes.

Turns out I don't have to. Two seconds later, Veronica body slams me back into the soft mattress.

"Rons!" I yell in her ear, pushing her off me, but she winds her arms around me even tighter.

"Sister! You're gonna have a baby! Oh, my God! Are you excited?" She yells in my ear, her breath hot against my cheek.

I press my head back and yell, "Veronica, get off!"

She releases me, sitting back on her bent legs. "Or are you not happy about it? Do you—do you plan on keeping it? Or?—"

"Yes! Oh, my God, yes, I'm keeping the baby." My hand drops to my stomach as if I could protect the little bean from their aunt's words.

"Hey, no offense," Veronica says, throwing her hands up. "I just—how are you feeling about everything? I thought you were on birth control? I know we never had the talk, dear, but?—"

"Okay, Mom ," I say with a laugh. She laughs back, pushing at my leg.

"I didn't get back on birth control after everything. Hunter and I talked about it, and I thought about it, but I never felt that strong of an urge to get that whole situation sorted."

She grins, her eyes narrowing with amusement. "Babe, do you have a breeding kink?"

I throw a pillow at her.

"I mean, or I guess Mr.Brigham has one? No judgment. I can somewhat understand the appeal."

" Veronica Marie Lance. "

"Calm down, don't full-name me, yeesh," she says, tossing the pillow back at me again.

"If you're happy about the baby, why are you in here looking like you went three rounds with Rhonda Rousey? And don't give me that bullshit about ‘I'm hormonal,' because I invented the game, mmkay?"

She tries to make a joke, but I know her. There's a shot of pain reflected in her gaze. "You were struggling this whole time, weren't you?" I murmur.

She grabs my hand, and I squeeze hers in return. She shrugs. "Life be lifein' sometimes, babe."

I nod at her sage wisdom.

"Keep talking, heffa," Veronica says, breaking the heavy mood.

"So yeah. I found out I was pregnant at the coffee shop. I mean, I went and got pregnancy tests at the convenience store and took one at the coffee shop."

"And that freaked you out?"

"Thoroughly." I clear my throat. "Anyway, I ran around and eventually ended up close to Genevieve's office, so I went to see her. Hunter showed up."

"He's back?" she asks.

"Yes, he, um...."

"Did he whisk you away so y'all could fuck like bunnies?"

"You're killing me. Straight murder, sis."

"I bet he's been murdering that pooo-say—Ah!" She shrieks when I push her off the mattress. "I'm sorry! I can't help it. I have always wanted this for you." She crawls her way back up to the bed.

"I know," I say simply. "So we went to Dr.Greene today, and everything is great. But on the way home...um...."

"On the way home, what?"

I bite my nails.

"On the way home, what, Winter?" Veronica's eyes flash with deep trepidation.

"So, don't freak, but we were kind of in a car chase."

She blinks. Once. Twice. Three times. "Excuse me, what?"

"You heard me right," I say helplessly.

"The actual fuck, Winter?" She hops off the bed and begins pacing around. In a snap, she spins and heads for the door.

"Wait, where are you going?" She flings the door open, whirling around to respond to me.

"To find your baby daddy so I can rip his dick off!"

"Stop! It wasn't his fault. The people shooting at us?—"

" People fucking shot at you?" she bellows, and I'm a little surprised security isn't stampeding down the hallway.

I shush her. "Stop yelling! I don't want August to overhear. I'm not happy about it either," I say hotly. "But I'm mad at him, so please don't chase after him because then I'll have to follow you, and I don't want to see him right now. "

She inhales sharply, holding her breath. When I think she'll pass out for how long she's trapped the air in her lungs, she blows it all out.

"Only because you are with child will I honor your request," she says, tipping her head back to look down at me past her nose.

"Thank you," I say, my shoulders relaxing.

Her face breaks into a stunning smile. It's contagious, and I find myself smiling back at her. Then I yawn.

"Ah, the first-trimester exhaustion. I get it. Want something to eat before you crash?"

I shake my head. "Not right now. I wanna sit in silence for a little bit. Maybe close my eyes."

She gives me a tight hug. "I've missed you so much, Winter." Her words quiver. "I'm really fucking glad we're okay again."

I kiss her cheek, and we pull away from each other. "I love you, Rons."

"Ditto, bitch." She sticks her tongue out. With a kiss on my cheek, I'm alone in my room again.

The conversation was exhausting, but I feel a little lighter having told Veronica everything, especially about the baby.

The baby.

Hearing their little heartbeat and seeing them flicker on the screen was the most surreal moment of my life. There's a little life inside me. A life that Hunter and I created together.

I love Hunter, and I'm fucking pissed at him.

I wander into the bathroom, ready to take a hot shower to release my tense muscles. When I'm naked, I stare at my body in the mirror.

My breasts look larger and swollen. The force of gravity on them, with my bra removed, straddles the line between pain and relief.

I turn to the side. My stomach has never been flat, and I'm not a tiny woman. I hold my stomach skin up, pushing it toward my ribs to see my abdomen.

Goddamn, there's a tiny bump there.

My other hand runs over my lower stomach, and I press my hand there.

Girl, you're just bloated.

Icy fear ricochets through me. A baby. A baby to keep safe. A baby to get to term.

Don't die—don't die—don't.

I slap my hands on the cool marble. The feeling of the surface beneath my palms shocks me enough to stop the spinning thoughts.

Ground yourself as often as you need to. Genevieve's words echo in my brain.

I step into the spray, not waiting for it to warm up fully. The frigid water pelting my body serves as a cognitive reset. Soon, the steam from our shower billows around me, and I feel muscle group after muscle group relax.

You are safe.

I reach for the tabs of eucalyptus designed to add aromatherapy to the shower and drop them on the floor near the drain. Then I sit on the ledge, letting the warm water cascade over my chest and thighs.

My thoughts turn to Hunter, even though I'm desperate to clear my brain of everything.

Something is going on. I mean, that's obvious. But this doesn't feel like the same issue we've been dealing with.

This feels even more dangerous.

And here he goes, not fucking talking again.

No.He did this before. He shut me out and didn't tell me the whole truth of what was going on. I will not let him do this to me again.

There's too much at stake. We're beyond this.

If there's one thing I've learned over the past year we've been together, it's that Hunter's reluctance to be forthcoming about the things that impact me—impact our family—doesn't lead to safety.

I add conditioner to my hair and clean my body in quick movements. After I rinse everything off, I step out of the shower and detangle my wet hair, braiding it into two thick French plaits. I wrap a black rubber band around the ends.

Determined to get dressed again and confront my wayward boyfriend–fiancé—seriously, because what the fuck even are we at this point?—I adjust my towel and swing the bathroom door open. I run face-first into a shirtless Hunter.

I gasp when his arms band around my body.

"Hunter, what?—"

"Just give me a moment, Sunbeam." His voice is sharp and desperate, and his arms around me tighten, pinning our bodies together.

He trembles, pressing his face into my neck.

I want to relax into him—to tell him it's okay. That all of this is okay, and I'm here.

But I can't. Not this time.

"I'm sorry," he mutters, his face still pressed into my neck.

"Sorry for what, exactly?" I raise my eyebrow, pulling back.

He lets out a humorless laugh.

"I'm sorry for snapping at you. I'm sorry that I've put you in danger again. I'm sorry that what should have been a beautiful day turned to shit."

I put my hand on his cheek, and the rasp of his five o'clock shadow tickles my palms.

"Apology accepted. But also, you know that wasn't your fault, right? I mean, unless you took out an ad to have us shot at as part of some fucked up game."

His face twists into a rueful smile. "I did not."

"Well, there ya go. It is what it is, babe. Sometimes them be the breaks." I shrug.

He kisses my forehead .

"That said," I say over my shoulder as I move to our dresser to grab underwear. If I have my way, we'll have a heavy talk, and I don't want him to try to distract me with sex. "What exactly, specifically, is happening that has resulted in us being chased and shot at today?"

I shimmy into my panties, and when the towel starts to fall, I let it tumble to the ground. "Is it your father?"

I look over my shoulder as I try to snap my bra together behind my back. The look in his eye causes my pussy to clench.

Down, girl.

"Hunter, focus." The look on his face doesn't change, but he does release a slight sigh. "The answer is, I don't know, and that pisses me off. But now…."

When he stops talking, I turn around fully. After I pull a loose dress from another drawer and put it on, I twirl my hands to gesture at him to keep going. "But now...?"

His mouth twists.

"What aren't you telling me, Hunter?" My voice drops with determination. He will not keep me in the dark.

He shakes his head.

And says nothing.

"Hunter, you have to tell me what's going on." His mouth tightens even more, and with his hands on his hips, he turns away from me.

Wow.

"Hunter, you know that keeping things from me?—"

"I'm not trying to keep things from you, Sunbeam. I just…I want to know more about what's going on before I get you jumbled up in this mess."

I raise an eyebrow. "It's a little late for that, don't you think?" I deadpan.

He lets out a frustrated groan and runs a hand through his hair. "For now, you need to stay locked in Amelia Manor," he says, the finality of his words dropping like an anvil in the space between us.

"Excuse me?" My body flushes with frost.

"Sunbeam," is all he says in response.

"Hunter, you can't just lock me away in here with no explanation!"

He tsks and turns away from me again, walking toward the door. "Don't leave the inside of the building. Anything you need will be brought to you."

Breathing is painful, the scratch of air raking down my trachea. I must make a sound because he turns to me and swears under his breath when he sees my face.

"When we were on Isla Cara, we found human remains. It was my father. He's dead." He says this in the most emotionless tone. I gasp at his words and want to reach out to him. But I also want to throttle him.

Yes, I wanted Benjamin Brigham to bleed out until he died a painful death. Hunter wanted him gone too.

That's still his father, though, and running across his dead body would be a lot for anyone.

"Oh, H," I say on a breath. I reach a hand out to him but pull it back to my chest. Kitty circles me before standing on his hind legs, pawing at me to get my attention. "I understand that things are scary right now?—"

"Scary?" he says in a low voice. He leans against the door, much like the stance he took the last time he locked me in a room. "Things are beyond scary, Winter."

Thick silence follows that statement. I search for the right words to say, but I take too long because Hunter fills the void.

"I'm not—" he knocks his head back against the hard wooden door. "I'm not in control here." Each word sounds heavy, like they're difficult to form on his tongue.

"Control is an illusion, H," I reply. My voice is barely over a whisper. I pick Kitty up with trembling fingers, searching for the calm I usually find by plunging my hands into his fur. He licks my cheek.

"Control is what will keep us alive," he says with a rasp. The frenetic energy in his words is new, foreign. "There's so much you don't know."

"So why don't you tell me!" The words burst from my lips.

"How can I tell you what I don't even understand? That's what I'm trying to tell you. I need to figure this all out. I don't know what I'm dealing with or who I'm dealing with. I don't know what's real or what's fake or what's all an illusion. I need to get a handle on this situation and figure out which way is up before I bring you into this."

"Hunter, it's too late?—"

"I don't care, Winter! I will not lose you again. I won't stand losing any of you."

His anger, frustration, and…fear is plain on his face.

Even when we were being chased and shot at, he had a cool calmness that was impressive. While I was a mess, he was able to figure out the next steps and bring us home to safety.

But now, as I take in the fine sheen of sweat on his forehead and the way his chest rises and falls with rapid bellows, I know the truth. Hunter Brigham is frightened. Not of death. But of losing the people he loves.

And it all makes sense because that's the only thing he's ever feared.

"No," I say.

More silence. His eyes slide shut. "No?" He opens his eyes again.

"No. I won't stay locked in this house. Not unless you tell me what's going on."

Not another word from Hunter. He's stoic, icing me out.

"I have therapy and doctor's appointments, and I-I can't be h-held prisoner. It's too much like— It's too much like Adam, and I…."

I stop talking when I feel the first tear land on my chest. Even through my weary plea, Hunter is unmoved.

"I'll do whatever is needed to protect you, Sunbeam, even if you don't like it."

The only kink in his resolve is the slight feathering of the muscle at his jaw.

"Hunter…" I don't realize I'm stepping away from him until the backs of my legs hit the bed.

"I get that you're mad at me, so I'll give you space."

And with that, he's gone. The final word of our argument is the whirr of the lock sliding home.