Chapter 21

" A re you sure this looks okay?" Hunter grunts, tugging on the white button-down shirt with a scowl.

I bend, adjusting the wrinkled collar as my eyes scan down his body. He's wearing the shirt, some fitted tan chinos that ride up high on his calves from his seated position, white socks that only cover half the exposed skin, and dad shoes. You know the kind. Old, beat-up, white tennis shoes with grass stains that should have been retired twenty-two years ago, but your dad insists on wearing them proudly with jorts?

Yeah. My boyfriend is wearing those .

Even worse, he's in a wheelchair, so they enter the room ten solid seconds before him like some kind of cringy beacon.

Swallowing down the laughter bubbling up my throat, I smile and brush his freshly washed hair from his face. "You look hot."

He shoots me a glare, batting my hands away. "But is the fucking tie necessary?" he hisses.

A chuckle comes from over my shoulder, and I stand, grinning at a blushing Oliver. He shrugs. "Sorry, man. It's the only thing I had that would fit over your bandages."

"But the tie? " Hunter snaps, yanking the thin pink silk from his neck.

"What?" I laugh. "It completes the outfit."

Hunter points at Oliver, taking in his nice, dark jeans that rest comfortably at his ankle, shiny shoes, and fitted black polo. "Why can't I wear what he's wearing?"

Oliver brushes his hands down his shirt, his deep dimple barely concealed. "You won't fit in my shirt, dude. Not unless you want to rip a stitch." His dimple pops out. "Besides, I'd never wear that."

Hunter snarls and tries to shove up out of his wheelchair, but I plant my hands on his shoulders, forcing him down. "We don't have time for this!" I whisper-hiss, eyeing the nervous-looking nursing staff flitting around the tiny medical ward. "You look fine."

"No," he grunts, settling into his chair with a sigh. " You look fine. I look like I ran through Goodwill with a blindfold on and said do your worst, bitch ."

Oliver doubles over, laughter peeling from his chest, making his shoulders shake. Sighing, I shake my head, eyeing my own outfit. For as silly as Hunter looks, Oliver took his time to make sure I'd appear professional, clean, and yet perfectly invisible.

I don't know where he found the black athletic pants and matching fitted zip-up that somehow fits me like a glove, but I have a niggling feeling this place is equipped with way more extra clothing than Oliver's letting on. He even somehow found brand new Nikes that are pink, adorable, and my size.

I'm pretty sure I'm wearing something reserved for fitness training. It still had the tags on it, for Christ's sake, all the way down to the bra and panties.

I smirk to myself and quickly glance at Oliver, who waggles his eyebrows, humor lighting up his kind face.

Yeah, he's fucking with Hunter, I just don't know why.

But as lightness fills my chest and some of the anxiety I'd felt about what's to come dissolves, I wonder if maybe Oliver sensed I'd need a distraction right now.

After snagging him from the hallway outside of Hunter's room earlier, I filled him in on everything. Well, not everything. I'm still not sure people should be made aware of how little I know about this entire situation, but something inside me says I'm not fooling Oliver. He already knows how out of my element I am. I also kind of think I can trust him.

His eyes went wide when I explained the shoot-out, Hunter's near death, my missing guys, the trackers they should still, hopefully , be wearing, and my need to extract as much information here before hunting them down.

But he surprisingly took it all in stride. He simply gave me a sharp nod, adjusted his glasses, and took care of everything else.

Hunter was ushered to a shower that he insisted on taking by himself, but I quickly stripped down without a word and got us both clean. If he hadn't been slumped on the wall, his eyes heavy with exhaustion, I have no doubt the shower would've been awkward or not , considering we haven't been naked and close like that in…

Well, a long time.

But I gritted my teeth, ignored the hard dick pointed at me, and washed us both quickly. I may have taken a peak while he rinsed his hair, but I'm only human.

The second I'd found myself getting turned on, I looked away, guilt, anger, and sadness replacing everything else.

I need my guys back.

Now.

And as much as I love Hunter, as much as I desire him, we can't take it any further with them out there suffering or worse. Not yet.

I shook the thoughts of Hunter's sexy, tattooed body and veiny cock away, rinsed and dried us both, and got us into the clothes Oliver had left on Hunter's bed. A wheelchair also magically appeared, as well as a nurse who Oliver promised wouldn't rat us out.

When I'd given her a questioning look, she merely shrugged, reattached Hunter's wires and IV, making them portable, and said, " Who the hell am I to question you? You're in charge here. No one else." I gaped, Hunter choked, Oliver chuckled, and the nurse winked before spinning on her heel and leaving us behind.

Now, here we are, ready to go to the debriefing that Oliver assured me wouldn't start until I arrived.

It makes no sense.

None.

What the fuck have I gotten myself into?

I can't do this. I can't handle this. I'm not made for this world, whatever it is. I have no idea what's waiting for me inside that meeting, but I know it's not good. I know it'll have the power to stop my world and burn it to ashes.

How can I allow that to happen when I have nothing left to give?

When I've already lost it all?

"Ready?" Oliver murmurs, pulling my attention from my shoes. My fingers are tangled in my sleeves, and Hunter leans forward, gripping my hands and tugging me into him. My knees hit his bent ones as I meet his eyes, bending slightly since he's a bit shorter than me in the wheelchair.

His palms cup my cheeks, his eyes flitting between mine. "You are Isabella Hundson, a friend, a barista, a lover, a daughter, a kind-souled woman with so much strength, it knocks the breath from my lungs." My eyes mist over, but I blink the tears away. "You are beautiful, sweet, pure, and so much more than whatever your mind is telling you right now. You can do this. I swear to God, Elle, you really can."

"How can you have so much faith in me?" I ask, my voice cracking. I sense Oliver move away to give us privacy, and I could hug him for it. "I don't even have that much faith in myself, Hunt."

He smoothes a hand over my hair and wraps his fist around my long, damp ponytail, using his grip to bring my lips to his. I think I hear someone gasp, but I ignore it. Nothing exists but me and him right now.

His lips ghost over mine as he speaks, sending shivers down my spine. "I used to think I wasn't worth the air that filled my lungs," he murmurs, making me tense. "And some days, I still feel that way. But you're always there to remind me that we deserve more than our pasts. We deserve a future. I refuse to believe that your future is small, baby. Not when I look at you and see the whole damn world shining back at me."

"Hunter…" I breathe, but he presses his lips to mine, stealing the words from my throat before they can form on my tongue.

"Shh," he murmurs. "I'm not done talking." I huff a laugh, my palms braced on his knees as my legs wobble. "I have faith in you because, despite everything, you've never stopped looking for the best in life. Even when your days are dark, and you consider the worst, you've stayed because somewhere deep inside, you know the world is waiting for you to make your move. You can and will do this, Ella. It's your turn to live."

My lips collide with his, and I breathe in his steady reassurance, letting his faith in me calm my nerves. I don't know that I believe his beautiful words, but I want to. God, I want to so badly.

"Guys," Oliver chuckles. "I know I said they'd wait for you, but I'm pretty sure you have some time-sensitive things to handle."

I hear the unspoken words, and they have me pulling away from Hunter's sweet taste. Nodding, I kiss his forehead as his fingers slip from my hair. "Okay," I whisper, more to myself than anyone. I nod my head and brush my shaking fingers down my pants. "Okay. Let's do this."

My eyes flutter closed for a brief moment, and I picture the way Gage man-spreads when he walks into a room. The way he somehow makes himself look bigger when he's taking on his power stance.

I stand, backing away from both of them. Chin up. Face flat. Jaw tense. Legs tense and wide. Fists clenched.

"Uh, Ella," Oliver chokes out, his eyes wide. He leans in and drops his voice, jutting his chin toward a hall. "There's a bathroom over there if, you know, you have to…" He breaks off, rubbing his neck.

My brows crash together, and my body deflates. "What?"

Hunter rubs his hand over his heavily stubbled jaw, barely stifling a laugh. "He thinks you need to shit."

I gape at them both. "What?" I practically screech.

Hunter's head falls back with a deep, rumbling laugh that has goosebumps breaking out all over my skin, even if I am mortified.

Oliver blushes again, something I noticed he does often. "You just looked—"

"Like you have to shit," Hunter supplies. He glances at Oliver. "It's her power stance." At my cocked brow, he shrugs. "I've watched Gage do it enough to know what you were going for there, babe. Sorry, but he does it way better."

With a sigh, I flip him off.

"Fucking hell," I grumble, giving them my back as I head toward the MedBay exit Oliver brought me through hours ago. "Whatever. Let's go."

I toss my shoulders back, pretending I'm not turned on, and sad and terrified all at once. Pretending I'm someone else.

Just not Gage.