4. Winter

FOUR

WINTER

“ W inter, can you wake up for me?”

I groan as the voice pops me into consciousness. One moment, I’m in blackness; the next, someone yells in my ear a split second before my shoulder starts throbbing.

Which is terrifying because I just walked in here and sat on the table for an examination.

The rest is blank. When did I fall asleep?

“Ow,” I grumble. A second later, the low hum of a machine starts, and coldness runs up my arm from the bend of my elbow.

I crack open one lid.

“Hunter? Where is Hunter?” I ask, gasping as a cold feeling settles in my chest.

The room I’m in is white, but gratefully, it's dim in here except for the lights over the counters and one glowing from somewhere behind my head. Rolling my eye to take in the room, I note the three walls surrounding me and the tan curtain hanging over the entrance I used to come in here. Two nurses move around the medical suite.

As if someone stabbed me, everything rushes back with a wave of potent anxiety.

The raid.

The safe room.

Veronica and Ella.

Rio.

Blair.

And then….

“August,” I rasp. The nurse closest to me fiddles with a bag of IV fluids hooked up to a pump.

I try again. “August. Where is August?”

She looks down at me after she gets all her IV lines sorted. A mask covers the bottom half of her face, and when she doesn’t respond to my question, alarm shoots through me.

I look at the IV site and begin to sit up. Fuck this.

“Whoa, ma’am,” a voice to my right calls. It’s another nurse. Her mask hangs off her ear, and her warm smile greets me, but I’m still on guard.

“Where the fuck is my…” I bite my lip, dropping my head back onto the pillow that’s way too plush to be a plastic hospital one. “Where’s August,” I say, looking up at the ceiling. In a rush, my eyes start to feel heavy. Even though it takes much effort, I turn to look at the nurse to my left, near the IV poles.

“Did you drug me?” I slur. She taps the IV container.

“Winter, you are safe here.” I whip my head to my right, and I’m irritated that my movements are slow and don’t match the intensity I want to give off. “We’re not giving you anything that could hurt you. Just something to help you relax,” the smiling nurse says. She steps up to the bedside and pats my hand.

Despite the meds sent through my IV to relax me, panic surges anyway. Confusion edges in as the smiley nurse begins to sign to her colleague, her fingers a rapid show of language.

“Marta is hard of hearing,” the other nurse says, signing as she speaks. I feel my body release some tension, and the masked nurse nods. The corner of her eyes crinkle a bit.

A smile.

Maybe the nurse doesn’t plan on harming me.

But then my brain shakes as I try to tilt my head, and a renewed sense of sharp hyperawareness rushes up anyway.

“I’m pregnant,” I blurt out. “I…can’t…have…drugs.” When I attempt to open my eyes, everything spins.

“Why the hell did you drug me? I didn’t consent to being drugged!” Forming words is hard. “I just have a scratch, and it doesn’t even hurt that bad!”

I shrug my injured shoulder but force myself to bite back the groan of pain I want to release.

Okay, maybe it hurts more than a little.

The smiley nurse pats my hand. “We know about the pregnancy. You were pretty amped up when you got here, and we were afraid you were going to harm yourself with how your panic attack took over. Do you not remember?”

I search for any recollection of the events the nurse talks about, but I come up with a big blank box of nothing.

“The medicine we gave you is short-acting, and the doctor will be in shortly. Just try to stay calm.”

I take in a deep breath and my shoulder throbs. “You didn’t answer my question.” I force my eyes open, staring at the nurse holding my hand.

“August is fine,” she replies. But when she smiles again, my paranoia increases.

Breathe, Winter.

I close my eyes to prevent myself from drowning in an ocean of panic, but behind my lids, all I see is blood.

So much fucking blood.

I shot Blair just before Hunter came into the hangar, and the agony of August squeezing me as I lay on the ground made me want to scream.

I knew my gunshot wound wasn’t anything fatal when it happened, but getting shot hurts like a motherfucker.

“Where is Hunter?” I mutter. The masked nurse walks away from me, heading to a wall of medical supplies.

“He’ll be here in just a moment,” the toothy nurse says. She flicks her eyes above my head, and when I follow her gaze, my vitals appear on the most futuristic hospital monitor I’ve ever seen.

Everything feels so unreal, and I’m uncertain if the source of my discombobulation stems from my anxiety or the medicine they shot me up with. I’m here in a medical bay in the home of a Ukrainian mob boss, as if that’s normal.

What the actual fuck is happening?

Where is Hunter?

My gaze travels around the room and then to my IV site.

I look at the clock on the wall. Two hours. Why don’t I have any recollection of the last two hours?

They explained that to you.

Am I really safe?

Can I trust these people?

Is this…are they going to hurt me? Us?

The thought that Hunter and August are in trouble—hurt or dead—and I’m next snaps into my brain.

Just as suddenly as the thought comes on, the surge of adrenaline batters the door of my subconscious, fighting against what feels like benzos running heavily in my system.

I reach for the IV and rip it from my elbow.

“Winter!”

Sitting up on the edge of the bed, I wad the twisted sheets against my bleeding arm.

I try to place my weight on my leg and my knee buckles. I catch myself with my good hand, falling back on the bed.

“Girl, if you don’t sit your ass down!”

Veronica stands in the doorway with Kitty at her side and Summer strapped to her chest in a soft structured carrier.

Just as I make sense of her appearance, another figure materializes.

Luna?

I’m distracted from my confusion when Kitty comes bounding in, and the high-pitched whistle that escapes my constricted throat causes him to use all his power to jump onto the high hospital bed.

He misses a few times before Veronica helps him up by his hind legs.

Kitty immediately goes to lick my cheek, and I don’t say anything as I clutch onto him, shaking as I try to soak in calm.

One.

One-two-one.

One-two-three-two-one.

Kitty sniffs at my bandaged shoulder, then plops down to settle into my lap with a distressed whine. When I push my fingers through his fur, he huffs.

Still, a fine tremor runs through his tiny body.

“Veronica, I….”

The room tilts at an odd angle, and the urge to vomit is so strong that I bend sideways to hover over the edge of the bed. A kidney basin appears from nowhere right as I heave.

I retch once, twice, and when I feel I have a reprieve, I look up at my best friend.

“Veronica,” I choke out, and she jumps into action without me needing to say anything further.

“All right! Everybody give her some space. You,” Veronica says, and the masked nurse turns. “You’re stressing her out. Leave. You.” She points at Luna. “Go find Hunter and bring his ass back here.”

Luna cocks a hip out and puts her hand on it.

Luna and I had a brief moment together the last time I was at Misha Hroshko’s home. She took me to their garden, having heard that I love flowers. That feels like years ago rather than a little over a week.

The grounds on Misha and Luna’s estate are expansive, rivaling Amelia Manor.

But their garden is nothing like the one back home.

Home.

Is Amelia Manor still standing? Before we flew away, it sounded like bombs were going off at the front of the mansion.

I swallow, my throat dry, but when I close my eyes, the image of the man I shot right there in my beloved garden greets me.

Breathe, Winter. Just breathe.

“He’ll be here in a minute,” Luna says.

Veronica lets out a closed-lipped chuckle, but it’s anything but humorous.

“A minute is too long. Go get him so that Winter can chill.”

Luna’s eyes narrow as she bores her gaze into Veronica.

“Please,” Veronica adds.

Luna still doesn’t move.

“Pretty please with cherries on top?” Veronica pastes on a bright smile.

Luna grumbles something unintelligible but heads for the door nonetheless.

“Do you know what’s happening with August?” I ask Veronica once Luna is out of the room.

“Everything is okay, Winter. August is resting in one of the guest rooms. You, on the other hand, need to lie down. In case you haven’t realized, you’ve been shot.”

I want to roll my eyes at her, but I’m too dizzy to perform the action.

Note to self: Don’t get shot. Again .

Veronica puts a soft but firm hand on each of my forearms and positions me back on the bed. When she lifts one of my legs and then the other without permission, putting a palm on the back of Summer’s head as she does so, and slides the blanket over me, the feeling of gratitude for not being upright marginally blurs my fear and uncertainty at the motivations of the people surrounding me.

Summer, the most amazing baby on the planet, sleeps through all the jostling. My best friend’s hand on mine gives my strained nervous system a slight reset.

“Everything is okay. Hunter is here. August is here. Everyone is here.”

The quaking in my hands grows, but I force myself to absorb her words.

“Everything is okay right now, Winter.”

My shoulders relax into the pillow behind me.

“Knock-knock,” a new voice calls, pulling the curtain back and sliding inside.

“Who are you?” I blink hard. There are so many fucking people coming in and out of this room, and my anxiety has me feeling like I’m standing in a pile of fire ants.

“I’m Dr. Whitney,” the woman says. She takes the stethoscope from her pocket and lifts it. “Mind if I take a listen?”

I don’t move or respond.

“Her vitals are a little erratic. Do you want to give another dose of Versed?” This comes from the smiley nurse.

“Another dose? I did not consent to being drugged in the first place!” I look at Veronica, helpless, and the doctor takes up residence near my hip.

“You were quite upset when we wheeled you back here, so we wanted to help you relax while we stitched you up. Luckily, you just got a scrape, but I’m sure it hurts like hell,” the doctor says.

Her words are reassuring, I guess, but I’m so weirded out and worried about the baby.

I lift my shaking hands to my stomach.

“I wanted to run your samples down to the lab myself. All is well.” Dr. Whitney’s eyes are friendly, and she doesn’t reflect a hint of malevolence.

“Are you sure?” Drugs. Meds. The baby.

My hand flexes on my lower stomach, and I try to rise off the bed again.

“Please, Ms. Vaughan,” one nurse says, placing a gentle hand on my good shoulder.

I flinch away from the touch.

“Nuh-huh, don’t touch her! She needs space, not you crowding her,” Veronica growls with one hand on the back of her daughter’s head.

“How do you know? How do you know everything is okay?” I begin to wail, and the monitors start to chime. I try to breathe in and out to calm myself, but I feel my pulse racing in my chest.

The doctor speaks. “Ms. Vaughan, your heart rate is getting a little too high?—”

“ Is my baby okay? ” I feel the press of panic settle in my sternum, and suddenly, I can’t breathe at all.

The baby.

The baby.

Oh no, oh no, oh n?—

“Your baby is doing great, Winter,” Dr. Whitney says. She motions to the mask-covered nurse to bring over a wheeled device. When it’s in her possession, the doctor spins around what turns out to be the smallest ultrasound machine on the planet.

Dr. Whitney pipes up. “While you were out, we checked the baby’s heart rate with the Doppler. Now that you’re up, let’s do an ultrasound. Here, watch.”

She taps the screen a few times, and in short order, she has an ultrasound wand pressed to my bare stomach. I hold my breath until my baby starts wiggling on the screen. The strong wlub-wlub-wlub of their heartbeat causes tears to well up. I cry harder, even though I don’t want to.

“I need Hunter,” I whisper through my tears. “Please.”

Dr. Whitney exhales and says, “Of course, Winter. First, you need more fluids. I’m also running IV antibiotics through your line because the last thing I need you fighting is an infection. So can we please restart your IV? That way, we can give you what you need.”

“No pain meds,” I grind out. Even though the initial flush of the sedative has leveled out, I still don’t want more. The smiley nurse heads to my IV stand and lays a new butterfly needle kit beside my hip.

“No pain meds,” Dr. Whitney agrees as the nurse begins to wipe down the bend of my other elbow with an alcohol wipe.

Dr. Whitney looks at a few more of my vitals before patting my hand and striding toward the exit.

“I have to check on our other patients. Veronica, thank you. You saved Rio’s life,” she says.

Veronica dips her chin but doesn’t say anything as Dr. Whitney leaves.

The room falls silent after my new IV is placed. As the other nurses busy themselves, I wait for what I know will come next.

Three.

Two.

One.

“Winter, if you pull some shit like that again, I will kill you myself, I promise,” Veronica says in that calm tone she uses when she’s really, really angry. She shifts from side to side, rocking her baby.

She even smiles at me before she leans down to kiss Summer. The baby snorts and then settles back into sleep.

“I had to save August,” I say.

Has someone thoroughly evaluated him after he was drugged? I can only imagine so, but what if they missed something? Is he okay? Is he safe? How will this impact him?

…will he be all right after having killed someone?

My heart rate starts to kick up again at my worry for him.

“First question, sis,” Veronica says. “Are we staying or are we going? Because I go where you go.” Summer begins to fuss, and she pulls her out of the sling, bouncing her as she looks at me. After a few moments, Veronica huffs and does some kind of magic that allows her to nurse her baby without pulling her breast all the way out.

Not that I haven’t already seen Veronica fully naked on several occasions.

“What do you mean? I’m staying here,” I say.

Leaving Hunter isn’t even a question. Sure, I’m still mad at him. Really mad at him—and for so many things at this point.

But running away and leaving him behind to…what? No. Not an option.

“Winter,” Veronica says. When I take in her expression, I immediately want to glance away. Because she’s wearing the same tired, pitying look she wore the first time I told her I loved Hunter.

And that proved to be stupid because how much was he hiding?

“Winter, I mean this with love…but how much should we trust Hunter?”

I swallow, but my mouth feels coated with sand. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, this man has only brought hurt and devastation to you. To us. So why are we still blindly following him?” Veronica’s voice is soft, but her delivery is strong.

“Hey! He’s not an idiot,” I say, heat flushing my cheeks.

“No, he’s just controlling to a fault. He locked you away. Twice! He got you knocked up and did so knowing that you were in a vulnerable state.”

The shocking accusation causes me to sputter as I formulate a response. “He isn’t—he didn’t manipulate me into getting pregnant. I was a willing participant in that.”

“Were you really, Winter?” She blinks at me.

“I—I,” I stammer. I’m going to throw up again. “I want my baby. I want this,” I reply.

Veronica’s face softens. “Of course you do, Winter. And I love them already. But Hunter’s making life choices for all of us, and to be completely frank, I’m not related to him, nor am I fucking him, so…” Veronica shrugs to communicate the silent part of her rant: She’s not going to let Hunter Brigham get her or her daughter killed.

“What do you suggest then?” I say. A headache blooms behind my eyelids.

She switches Summer to the other side, using the same skills to keep her breast covered.

“We need to go to the top. The scary Russian?—”

“Ukrainian,” I correct.

“Ukrainian. We need to go to him to figure out what the fuck is going on. Then we need to bypass Hunter and decide the safest option for us. ”

Her plan makes sense. It really does, but….

“Let me talk to him. He’s just agitated right now. I did just get shot, and his son was drugged and nearly abducted. I can get him to be a team player.”

I think.

Veronica stares at me in silence. After several long blinks that communicate many different messages, she speaks.

“You have one shot, and then I’m gonna do what I do. Because I love you so much, Winter, but I’ve got to look out for myself and Summer.”

She delivers the words with no heat. I don’t blame her because she’s right. She has to look after herself and her child.

And so do I.

“Right,” I mumble.

The IV pump whirrs as we sit without talking, so when the curtain slides back, I jump.

“All right, one Hunter Brigham comin’ right up,” Luna drawls, opening the fabric wide.

Hunter rounds the corner, taking slow steps into the room. He’s changed clothes since I last saw him, and he wears a plain T-shirt and jeans. It’s such a casual look that I want to cry all over again.

“Sunbeam.” The word makes my muscles unclench, and I fully collapse into the bed.

He looks normal, while I must look like a mess.

I feel like a mess.

Our last major conversation resulted in him locking me in the bedroom again and me stonewalling him to punish him for his high-handed ways.

We were both wrong: Him for making me a prisoner in our home, me for ignoring him like a child.

Stonewalling. And you know that’s a death knell for relationships.

Hunter moves to the sink on the far wall, turning on the taps and lathering soap over his palms with a slow calm that I feel borders on shock.

I tell myself to breathe in and out to the count of three.

One.

One-two-one.

One-two-three-two-one.

When I finish the last round, Hunter turns to me, drying his hands on a brown paper towel. He walks closer.

“They’re okay?” he says, his eyes never leaving mine but directing his question at Luna.

“Yes, Hunter. She’s doing quite well, all things considered. She just needs to rest and take care of her wound,” Luna says. Pulling a granola bar from her pocket, she adds, “Like I told ya, Hunter. She’s fine .”

Hunter’s jaw ticks, and by the slight quiver of his eyebrow, I can tell he’s about to lose it.

“Great. Everyone out,” Hunter commands in a low voice.

“McScuse me?” Veronica says, and when I whip my head in her direction, her eyebrows are nearly to her hairline. “How about this: How about you explain what the fuck is going on.”

Hunter inhales and exhales slowly. “The less you know, the better,” he says. And that’s the exact wrong thing to say.

“Ha!” Veronica’s voice rises. “Yeah-no. I almost became a bloodstain on your oversized couch monstrosity, so you don’t have the right to tell me, ‘The less you know, the better.’” Veronica’s voice turns mocking as she mimics Hunter’s words.

“Lord above,” Luna mutters from where she reclines against one of the counters.

“Here’s what I know,” Veronica says, seething. “Hold my baby.” She startles me when she unceremoniously places Summer in my good arm.

“After I saved Rio from bleeding out and dying in your goddamn bomb shelter, I learned a few things from him. I learned that you, Hunter Brigham, are connected to some very deep, sinister shit.” Veronica begins to pace, placing her hands on her hips as she circles around the room.

“I also know that you and your best friend Rico Suave have done the idiotic thing of creating a technology you have no control over. Do you even know what’s in your product?” For her last statement, she stops to face Hunter as she interrogates him.

I frown as I track Veronica’s words. Hunter has told me very little about his work.

And is that normal, Winter?

“Me? Personally?” Hunter replies.

“Yes, you! Personally!” she yells.

Summer grunts, and I rock gently from side to side while I shush her, my eyes never leaving the scene in front of me.

“I—” he begins, but when Veronica gives him a withering look, he says, “We have people for that.”

“Mmhmm. And where are those ‘people?’” She makes air quotes, and I don’t think I’ve seen a more sarcastic gesture from a person.

Hunter grumbles in response.

“That’s what I thought. So you’ve basically created the perfect conditions for The Terminator Part Seven, and yet you have no real plan to keep it under control.”

“We had a billion-dollar security system—” Hunter begins.

“I. Don’t. Give. A. Flying. Fuck what you had, Hunter Brigham. The fact is today, right now, in this year of our lord and savior Betty White, you have fucked up.”

She points her finger at me. “And you have the nerve and unmitigated gall to pull my sweet, naive sister into your bullshit.”

“Rons…” I say, suddenly very, very tired. “Quit it.”

“Abso-fuckin-lutely not! This man wine, dined, sixty-nined you and got you knocked up and got you out here getting shot at—not just shot at, actually shot !”

Veronica yells outright, so when Luna interrupts, I’m grateful. “Well, y’all are a dramatic bunch. Veronica, come check on your charge with me. I hear that Rio really wants to see you.”

There’s a hint of amusement in Luna’s voice, and I’m too tired to keep up with the rest of their conversation.

Leaning to get Summer from me, Veronica takes the opportunity to kiss my hairline.

She keeps her face close to mine as she says, “When you want to talk about all of this, come find me. I love you.”

I murmur, “Okay.”

When Luna and Veronica leave the room, Hunter and I are silent for a long moment. The other nurses file out after them, flipping the switch to turn off the under-cabinet lights before departing. The sound of the IV delivering another bolus of fluids and meds is loud as he stares at me.

His eyes shift as they travel across my face and down my body, but when his gaze lands on my stomach, he closes his eyes and swallows hard.

I can’t stand it.

“Hunter, I?—”

Hunter moves so quickly that I almost get confused at the suddenness of it. He sits on the bed, leaning over to rest his head on my stomach.

Then he shudders, and a choked, strangled sound erupts from him.

“H,” I rasp. “I’m…” There are so many words I want to say. I’m sorry. I’m glad you’re alive. I’m still fucking mad at you.

The latter one feels trivial in the grand scheme of things, though.

“I’m glad you and Bean are okay, Winter.” He rubs his face against my stomach. “I’m so fucking glad.” He sighs, the sound ragged against my ears. I bring my free hand to his hair, running my fingers through it.

“Bean?” I question with a half-smile.

He shrugs and lets out a slight laugh. “It felt appropriate to give them a name. At least, until we give them one that’ll stick.”

He lifts my top—a hospital gown, which is alarming because who changed my clothes?—and places a gentle kiss against the flesh over my rib. Kitty moves to the foot of the bed.

“H, is it all over?” I whisper the question, not adding the rest of it. The rest of it being that August shot Blair in the face, or that Marcus Law is in on things, or that our house may very well be in ashes.

He sits up and wraps his palm around mine. And doesn’t answer my question.

“What happened while you were gone?” I ask, sighing as he rubs the back of my hand with his thumb.

“You first, Sunbeam. Tell me how everything went down.”

I blow out a breath and close my eyes to recount the night’s events.

“Ella, August, Veronica, the baby, and I were watching a movie in the media room when August left to get more food. When he was gone for too long, I went to find him. That’s when I ran across a body in the hallway.”

Bile wells in my throat as I recall the blown bits of brain matter on the floor and walls. Sensing my distress, Hunter lies next to me, pulling me in so that I rest on my good shoulder as he presses his front to my back.

“It was Rex. I can only imagine that he was with August when he was taken.” I look down at my trembling fingers. I didn’t know Rex very well; not like I know Rio. Or, I guess, like I thought I knew Rio. “August must have been so scared.”

Hunter’s arm tightens around me a fraction.

“I overheard two men talking and I recognized one of them as Rodrigo, the guard from when I first interviewed with you. Do you remember him?”

His response is immediate and dark. “Of course I remember him.”

“Right,” I say. “I used the tunnels to get back to the media room and grab everyone.”

Hunter’s arm flexes across my chest, and he presses his mouth to the back of my head. When he inhales sharply, I close my eyes and try to ground myself in the now.

“What else happened, Sunbeam?” he murmurs into my hair.

“Once I got everyone into the bunker, Rio came. He was shot and…” My head starts to hurt.

“He said that he’s been spying on us but that he’s part of something called The Resistance.”

Hunter hums.

“So you know about The Resistance?” I ask. I try to turn my head to look at him more fully, but Hunter presses into me with a firm hold. My shoulder starts to protest the movement.

The sound he makes is an affirmative.

I raise my eyebrow at that.

“Well, after Rio came in and I decided he wasn’t a threat, I left everyone else in the safe room to find August. Along the way, I came across a few bad guys. I-I shot two people. I think I killed them both.”

I know I killed Rodrigo. And the other guy is probably dead too.

“Jared!” I shout with a gasp.

“Was he a traitor too?”

“No! No, he helped me. He gave me a better gun, but he was in bad shape. Is he…?” I cover my mouth and shift to look at Hunter. The expression he gives me is troubled.

“I don’t know, baby. I wish I did.”

I close my eyes, and tears fall.

Taking a steadying breath, I say, “I found August, and Marcus-fucking-Law was there.”

“Marcus Law? Your neighbor?” He rasps, incredulous.

“Yes, one and the same. He killed Carlos, the bastard, and was standing over August. I thought he was going to kill August, so I was ready to shoot him from my hiding spot, but then he just…walked away.”

“Huh,” Hunter says in a thoughtful tone.

“August?” I question, my voice sharp. Hunter flinches. “You haven’t checked on August? Is he okay?” I force him to release me from his hold.

“He’s…” Hunter begins, and I scoot up the bed to face my overwhelmingly frustrating boyfriend, ready to haul myself around the complex to find our— his son.

“Wait, Sunbeam. August is safe. I need to make sure you’re okay,” he says.

“He was drugged, H!”

“And you were shot ,” he explodes. His nostrils flare as he inhales sharply, and I rear back into the pillows.

“Yes, but?—”

“But nothing, Winter!” He jumps up from the bed, walking to the other side of the room before stopping with his back to me and his hands on his hips. His head hangs low.

He turns.

“It’s not a competition on whose life I value more—yours or August’s. You both are immeasurably important to me. So I cannot stand the thought of anything happening to either of you.” He breathes in deeply, holding in the air before exhaling in a great bellow.

“Why did you leave the safe room?” His words are low, and he doesn’t look at me as he delivers them.

I blink at the question.

“Why?” I question. “How could I not?”

More silence.

“What you mean to say is, ‘Thank you, Winter.’” His eyes lock on mine, and I lift my chin in defiance.

“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 of I can’t lose you don’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 god damn it, 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.