22. Hunter

TWENTY-TWO

HUNTER

I 'd think she were asleep if it weren't for her iron grip on my hand while I drive.

My brain centers on the reality I've been avoiding for several days. The reality that I'm supposed to marry Blair Winthrope in a few months, but I'm in love with Winter.

I can admit it to myself now.

I'd laugh if it weren't so incredibly fucked-up.

I glance at the side of her face and note the restless tick of her jaw. Kitty lay in her lap, eyes closed. When we got in the car, she told me she needed to take an anti-anxiety pill she'd been prescribed, so I gave her a water bottle.

Now she's in a strange in-between state.

There's only one thing to do in this situation—I have to get out of this mess with my father and Blair, and I need to do it immediately. Like, now. I just don't know how the hell I'm going to accomplish that. At least, how I'm going to achieve that and keep BwP, August, and the rest of us safe.

I need Misha Hroshko to get in contact with us. For all his energy around connecting with Leo and me all those months ago, he's annoyingly silent. I can't take down my father on my own. That's asking for all of us to get slaughtered. We're playin g chess here, but circumstances force me to play checkers. Not even checkers. It's like I'm playing a game of jacks.

A headache starts to form, throbbing in my temples.

August pipes up from the back seat, "Are you and Winter in a romantic relationship?"

I glance at him in the rearview mirror, unsure how to answer that question. I want to be honest with him because lying to him will only cause more strife in our relationship. But I also don't want him to think I'm hanging around him only because Winter is there.

I finally decide to be honest with him. "Yes, we are dating."

I listen for the sound of his fingers on the tablet screen in response.

"Does that bother you?"

I risk a glance in the rearview mirror again, and he taps his cheek as he looks out the window. We eat up miles of interstate before he says, "I like Winter. She is kind." He picks his hand up from the tablet, flicks his fingers a few times, then resumes typing.

"Just do not mess her up like you did my mom."

I close my eyes in a long blink. Opening them, I catch his eyes again and say, "I won't." I look at the side of Winter's face. "I promise."

August doesn't say anything else. He pulls his headphones out of the seat pocket in front of him and tunes me out for the rest of the ride.

When we arrive, Winter is still dozing. August hops out of the car—literally—as soon as we get the garage door closed. Winter blinks at me sleepily when I rub her shoulder to wake her. Her expression is flat. The happy, joking Winter I know and love isn't there.

Love.

I focus back on Winter's face.

"Why don't you nap in my bed," I say .

She nods and exits the car robotically, Kitty following her steps.

I need to know what's wrong. I need her to tell me what happened in the store. I don't believe that she just slipped into a panic attack randomly, even though that does happen from what I've learned about anxiety disorders over the past several weeks.

My gut tells me that something specific set her off, triggered her. I need to know what it is.

Winter stands in the entryway of the garage, waiting for me. I take her cold hand and lead her up the back staircase to my bedroom.

Neither of us takes time to inspect the suite, even though it's her first time here. I simply lead her to the bed.

She takes off her shoes and rolls under the covers without saying a word to me. Kitty settles into her side.

Her body is still; her eyes shut. Nothing disrupts her static position except the gentle up and down of her breathing.

Kitty presses deeper into her side and cocks his head to give me a look.

"I don't like it either, Kitty," I whisper.

He whimpers in reply, putting his head down on his paws. I resist petting him solely because he is on duty right now supporting Winter.

I lean over and place a gentle kiss on her temple. She doesn't move.

"Rest, Sunbeam," I say.

Looking back at Kitty, I say, "Look after our girl."

When he huffs, I finally feel like I can exit the room.

I'm three steps down the hallway when I hear a pointed hiss. "What the hell did you do to Winter? I swear to God, if you mess with her head, I will put Nair in your conditioner."

I stop and sigh, not turning to look at Ella.

"I didn't do anything to her, Ella," I say over my shoulder, then I continue my stride down to my office. I need to do someth ing I should have done long ago: read the file on Winter Leigh Vaughan.

"Really," she deadpans. "That's why she was laughing and kissing you four hours ago, and now she's catatonic?"

I grab the file from my desk drawer and sit down to open it.

In it is a picture of Winter. It looks like a candid shot of her on a walk. Kitty is in the frame—his leash in one of her hands and a water bottle is in the other.

I move to the first page of text and read her family history. I remember when her mother, U.S. Representative Katherine Vaughan, died with her husband in a car crash almost two decades ago.

She couldn't have been more than a kid. Not even a teenager when that happened.

I stop reading when Ella's tiny hand slaps over the pages. Her long black nails score the paper.

"May I have your attention, please ," she growls.

"Ella, sometimes I really wish you'd mind your business," I say, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"Mind my business? Well, how about this business, seeing as it pertains to our family . You're getting married?" Her words are so full of rage, I struggle to keep my eyes open to face it head on.

"Ella, there are things you don't understand."

"Don't patronize me. Answer the damn question. Are you getting married?"

"On paper, yes." Maybe. Hopefully not. My throat feels tight.

"On pa— What the fuck does that even mean? What. Are. You. Doing. Hunter? What did you do to Winter?" I've never seen hostility like this in my sister's eyes. Her whole face flushes, blotches of red fusing together on her skin, moving up to her ears.

In a perfect world, I could tell Ella what's going on. I'd be able t o confide in her that our father is a monster and all the fucked-up shit he's doing. All the fucked-up shit he has done. What he'll do if I don't comply, and how I'm going to make this all right.

But the words die in my throat.

I lean back in my chair. "Ella, I don't know what to tell you. I wish I could explain more, but just know it's a…" I search for the right wording. "It's a business situation."

"What the fuck," she whispers, enunciating every word and looking away from me.

"As for Winter, I didn't do anything to her. I promise you. At the grocery store, she stepped out of line to get an item we forgot. When she came back, she was in full panic mode. I wasn't going to harass her with questions right as she's coming down from hyperventilating," I say pointedly.

Ella stands up straight. "Fair enough. It's just—" She looks away from me and down to the floor. After a moment, she looks at me again. "It's important to me that August gets what he needs. I believe that Winter is the person to offer that help. And I don't want you screwing things up so she leaves. Plus, she's a nice person. A good person. She doesn't deserve to be hurt. As for you getting married, can I just say how fucked it is that you're obviously stringing Winter along?"

"I'm not trying to string her along or mess up with her, Ella. I have no intention of doing that ever," I say.

"Ever?" Her eyebrows are in her hairline.

"Ever." We stare at each other, a face-off. "Just trust me," I say.

She looks at me for a long moment, then says, "I'm in the goddamn Twilight Zone. "

Throwing her hands up, she steps back toward the door. Opening it, she says, "Make this make sense, Hunter. Because none of this shit does." Then she leaves, slamming the door with her departure.

I dive deep into Winter's information, moving along to learn about Mr. and Mrs. Lance, Veronica, and Veronica's husband, James.

I frown when I read all the shady shit James Palmer's involved with but set it aside for now. Not my circus.

Twenty minutes pass when a scream echoes through the house. I'm up in an instant and running toward it.

"Please! I'm sorry!" I'm at my doorway and see Winter thrashing in the bed. Kitty barks in short yips, trying to jump back up onto the bed. It looks like Winter might have kicked him to the floor with her uncontrolled movements.

I take a step closer to the bed. Her eyes are wide open, unfocused. She's dreaming.

Or rather, she's trapped in a nightmare.

"Please, Adam, stop! Don't!" She's sobbing, slamming her fists down on the bed over and over. She flings her arm over her head, hitting her hand on the wooden nightstand. She screams, and I do the only thing I know to do.

I pull her into my arms.

"No!" she screeches in my ear. She swings wildly, her hands scratching at my face.

Kitty yips, finally making it back on the bed and jumping on Winter's chest, but she pushes him off and rolls away from me, curling into a trembling ball. Kitty moves to put his face in the crook of her shoulder, but Winter pushes him away again, and he half-tumbles, half-hops from the bed.

Spinning in a circle, Kitty whines and shoots under the bed.

Stepping back, I say her name as loud as possible. "Winter! Winter, wake up, you're dreaming." I repeat her name a few more times until her body stills. She sinks back into her pillow, screwing her eyes shut. After a few deep breaths, she opens her eyes again.

She doesn't look at me when she says, "I hurt you just then. Didn't I?" Tears track down her face as she stares at the ceiling .

I cross the room slowly to flick on the fireplace. It's cold in here. I should have made it warmer for her. More comfortable. Maybe she wouldn't have had a nightmare just then.

Stop. Focus on Winter.

I turn away from the flame but continue moving slowly so I don't spook her in her fragile state.

"You got a few hits in," I say. I smile to let her know it's okay, even though she's not looking at me.

She closes her eyes again, and more tears roll down her cheeks. I sit back on the edge of the bed. She doesn't move away. That's progress, I suppose.

"You didn't hurt me too bad, though." My hand lands on the comforter right next to hers.

"I'm so, so sorry," she says. Hiccups break the words up, and she turns her head away from me.

Slowly, I take my pinky and run it against the side of her hand. Her breathing stops, but she doesn't move away.

I add another finger and then one more until my hand rests on top of hers.

"Winter, look at me, please."

I wait patiently for her to turn her head.

She does, but her eyes don't open until several seconds later. They're swollen and red-rimmed, and her nose matches the color.

"I can take it. I've had much worse." I give her a slight smile.

Her lips part.

"You can stay here as long as you want because you have a place here," I say. With me , is what I don't say.

"Today has been…" she sniffs and purses her lips in thought. "A rough day," she finishes.

I rub circles on the back of her hand.

"I know," I say. "That's why you're going to tell me what happened."