26. Hunter

Chapter 26

Hunter

then

I wake up, but then I drift off.

I drift off, hoping to never wake up again.

The hazy pull of sleep is the only thing anchoring me to reality.

Sleep and Spence.

"Rest, love," he tells me during my lucid moments and then again in my dreams. So I do.

I don't know how long it goes on, but almost every time I wake, he's there, caressing my hair, offering me sips of water.

I sleep.

Deeply. Fitfully. Restlessly. Desperately.

Eventually, I wake up again, though this time is unlike any other.

My eyes flutter open, my attention immediately pulled to the soft sunlight streaming in from the crack between the curtains.

I feel… okay. Rested. Ready to get up and greet the day. It's a sensation I haven't experienced in a very long time .

I hit the control panel next to the nightstand, and the curtains open fully.

The sunlight is overwhelming, so I shield my eyes while they adjust. But for the first time in a long time, I welcome the light.

I turn my face toward the windows, seeking the sun, craving the luminosity, and welcoming the technicolor brightness.

I feel different. I feel better .

After a few minutes, I sit up fully. I'm thirsty. Starving.

I really need to pee, but what I want more than anything is to be clean.

Shuffling slowly, I make my way to the bathroom. I take my time showering, scrubbing and shaving and washing my hair twice.

It's incredible. This sensation. As if I've finally returned to myself.

I'm folded over, towel drying my hair, when Spence calls my name from the bedroom, his voice panicked.

"In here," I call to him, securing the towel under my arms.

An instant later, he barrels into the bathroom, scanning me with a worried frown. My cheeks warm under his gaze.

I'm practically naked, yet that isn't what makes me sheepish. It's the knowledge of what he witnessed—what he helped me through—that makes my cheeks pink as I search his face.

What happened over the last few days… it's not normal. I wasn't myself. It would be completely understandable for him to view me differently after enduring that episode .

When his gaze meets mine, his expression softens. With a sympathetic smile, he asks, "Are you well, love?"

"Um, I think." I clear my throat. "I feel better, I mean. I just took a shower, and I don't feel…"

How do I categorize what I feel or don't feel? The last few days have been an absolute blur, and Spence has had to shoulder the burden of what I went through. He cared for me. Tenderly. Devotedly.

"I'm sorry you had to, um…" I grimace, staring down at my bare feet. "I'm sorry you had to see me like that. "

"I'm not." He strides over and tilts my chin back so I'm forced to look him in the eye. "It was a privilege to take care of you, love. I had no idea what I was doing, but I tried my best."

"Thank you," I whisper. Pushing up on tiptoes, I kiss him softly.

He returns the kiss but doesn't take it any further, instead pulling me into a tight embrace. "I'm so glad you're well."

As we hold one another, his body physically relaxes.

"Last weekend—" he starts.

"Wait." I pull back, my heart thumping against my sternum. "What day is it?"

He lowers his head, frowning. "It's Friday, love. You've been in bed for six days."

Reality slams into me as I digest his words. Six days. Six entire days? Did he contact Louie? What did he tell management at Splice?

"Hunter."

My gaze shoots up to meet his as trepidation washes over me.

"Don't stress. Please, I beg you, let's ease back into this and take it one thing at a time."

I pull my bottom lip between my teeth. "I can't believe I was in bed that long."

What the hell was I thinking? It's rare for me to even nap during the day. Who in their right mind stays in bed for nearly a week?

"What can I do for you, love?"

Inhaling a steadying breath, I consider his words. One thing at a time…

"I'm hungry," I admit. Did I eat anything at all over the last week? It sure doesn't feel like it."I'll have them bring up the entire room service menu." Spence pulls his cell out, types a message, then stashes it just as quickly. "It'll be here in twenty-five minutes. What's next?"

I lean against the bathroom vanity, unsure of where to even start. My mind is filled with so many blanks I wish I could fill in.

The biggest, most urgent question: Why did this all happen?

"Can you…" I clasp my hands and dip my chin. "I don't remember much of anything. "

Spence maintains his distance this time, giving me space as he assesses me from head to toe. Eventually, he inhales steadily, lets it out again, and says, "You slept practically the entire time. When you got up, I made sure you used the facilities, drank water, ate a little toast when you were able. I got you to eat a few strawberries two days ago. Highlight of my week, really."

He offers me a mischievous smile, but I don't feel like laughing.

He clears his throat, looking unsure for the first time. "I also helped you change your sanitary pads."

My sanitary wha—

Mortification boils over, my whole body instantly going hot, as memories flood my mind.

I got my period.

I got my period, I saw the blood, and I spiraled.

It was the first period I've had since miscarrying. The ob-gyn had warned me it could take a few cycles for my body to get back on track after the loss. I hadn't fully considered what it would be like to see blood between my legs again.

Horrified, trembling, I peek up at Spence.

"I told you," I say, hanging my head and turning around so I'm facing the mirror.

"Yes." He doesn't elaborate, but he doesn't have to.

I remember now how he found me. The way I clung to him, sobbing, wishing it was Greedy who had his arms wrapped around me as I relived the physical and emotional hurricane of my loss. The sight of blood sent me right back to the moment. The aching cramps mimicked the contractions.

I held it all in, held it together the best I could the day I simultaneously found out I was pregnant, I was losing the baby, and that my boyfriend was about to be my stepbrother.

It was the worst day of my life.

This week, though, was just as awful. It hurt. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally. No wonder my mind checked out.

"Hunter," he says softly.

I look up and meet his gaze through the mirror, bracing myself for what feels like a weight that's about to drop.

"Based on what happened, I called NHS, and they referred me to a private practice."

My heart stumbles at the seriousness of his tone, but I don't understand. "What?"

"The National Health Service. They have a mental health crisis line."

I stare at him, wide-eyed, as my stomach drops. "Why would you do that?"

Spence loses a modicum of his temper for the first time. "Because you were clearly in crisis ."

He takes a step forward, but then halts in his tracks. Whatever he sees in the mirror is clearly enough to make him proceed with caution.

"You needed help, love. More than I knew how to give."

Arms crossed over my chest, I narrow my eyes at his reflection. "You should have just left me alone."

"Absolutely not." He shakes his head in a jerky motion. "You were not well, Hunter. And there's no shame in needing help."

"I feel fine now," I tell him, lifting my arms and dropping them again.

"A psychiatrist came out the first day, then a psychologist was also assigned to your case. They've been coming by each day, taking notes. One of them will be here shortly, I'm sure."

"I feel better," I repeat, frustration turning into alarm. A stranger coming? To what? Observe me? Take notes?

What the fuck? Spence is being overdramatic.

"Call them and tell them not to bother." I meet his gaze in the mirror again. "I'm fine now."

"Hunter. I found you in my office, trying to pull a bookshelf over on yourself."

"That's absurd," I instinctively say, even as a glimmer of a memory floats through my mind .

"You could barely get out of bed, love. You couldn't speak. You couldn't function. You might feel fine now, but you were not okay."

I survey my hands, my towel-clad chest. I tilt my head back, inspecting my reflection in the mirror. I don't look different. Yet I don't feel like I truly know who I am anymore either.

"Hunter."

His proximity startles me at first. But then his lips find the delicate skin of my neck, and he wraps his arms around me from behind.

I lean back slightly at first, then eventually give him more of my weight. Resting my head on his shoulder, I peer up at him through my lashes.

"Please, love," he says, his voice hoarse. "I was so scared. I need you to accept the help that's being offered."

I study his face, his icy-blue eyes, and the stern pull of his brow line.

He softly kisses me on the lips, then pulls back. "I'm not willing to lose you."

When his mouth finds mine again, something clicks.

What happened was scary, but part of my fear is rooted in the idea that perhaps Spence wouldn't want me after what he witnessed.

But he's here.

Still.

He says he doesn't want to lose me.

I deepen the kiss, and he kisses me back just as passionately.

"Okay," I tell him gently.

Because I don't want to lose myself either.