40. Hunter

Chapter 40

Hunter

now

"What's going on?" I ask through a yawn, trudging into the kitchen. As I cross the space, a shiver racks through me. I should have grabbed slippers or socks before coming down.

The table is already mostly full, and it's quite the spectacle already.

Dr. F and my mother are sipping coffee, and if I'm not mistaken, they're wearing matching red-and-black buffalo-plaid pajamas. There also appears to be a stack of coordinating pajamas on the table for the rest of us.

Flovely .

"Nice of you to finally join us, sleepyhead." My mother's words are lighthearted, but the delivery is a little too rehearsed to have me convinced.

Hackles raised, I fill the kettle and set it on the stove to heat, then turn back to the group to regard them.

Along with Dr. F and my mother, Greedy and Levi are here, both sipping from steaming mugs .

"Good morning," I murmur, taking the empty seat between them and nudging Levi's knee with mine.

"Morning, Daisy. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas."

With my heart in my throat, I turn to Greedy.

We called a truce last night. Agreed to muddle through today and let our animosity rest. After what we've both endured, though, it's hard to trust the sanctity of any truce or agreement.

"Merry Christmas, Greedy."

His smile is genuine and warm.

He reaches under the table and rests a hand above my knee, squeezing. "Merry Christmas, Tem."

Relief washes over me and quiets my anxiety.

The tea kettle starts to sing, and as if on cue, Spence appears.

He kisses the top of my head in passing—a move I'm sure everyone caught, but no one comments on, thankfully—then moves on to fix tea for the both of us.

Standing, my mother fiddles with the buttons of her plaid PJs. She looks wholly uncomfortable in the getup. I fight back a laugh and clear my throat instead.

"Okay. Right. Now that you're all here," she says, her tone matter-of-fact, "we can get started."

Levi grasps my hand, but it's Greedy I look to first.

What are we starting, and why does she look so eager?

He voices the question lodged in my throat. "What are we starting, exactly?"

Dr. F tsks teasingly as he stands. "Come on, my boy," he encourages, offering a hand to Greedy and helping him to his feet. "It's Christmas morning. Let's open presents."

Presents was an understatement. Devices, clothes, gift cards galore. There were even a few things for Levi and Spence under the tree.

It was the material version of love-bombing. So many gifts. So much excess. I hadn't thought to buy a single thing, which makes me feel like shit. I was honestly too wrapped up in the end-of-semester hustle with school, and then Spence came into town and significantly distracted me in other ways.

Now we're all seated around the table, having just finished a delicious catered meal. Greedy's mom's Christmas dishes are notably absent from tonight's feast.

After he explained their importance, I don't blame him for not wanting to risk them being damaged or listen to my mother criticize them.

I'm counting down the hours until she and Dr. Ferguson leave tomorrow morning.

The anticipatory relief is palpable. We just have to get through tonight—dessert, coffee, maybe a bit of small talk—first.

With my mother heading back to the house, I'm in no rush to return to South Chapel.

But is staying here a few more days with all three men without a fight breaking out even possible?

Kabir is sitting at the table, dressed formally, sipping the after-dinner coffee that was served along with the yule log and the cheesecake.

Levi is to his right, closest to me. He's still wearing the buffalo-plaid pajama pants from this morning, along with a crisp white T-shirt.

I'm at one end of the table, and my mother is at the other. Greedy is by my side, dressed in sweatpants and a South Chapel U long-sleeve tech shirt, with his dad seated next to him.

Dr. Ferguson is leaning back in his chair, grinning as he finishes up another story about Christmas past. Apparently, Greedy loved to set traps, hoping to catch Santa, and his efforts got increasingly sophisticated and complex year after year.

Dr. Ferguson, in an effort to avoid a catch Greedy left out one year, actually fell down the stairs and dislocated his shoulder.

We're all laughing by the end, even my mother.

It's been an okay day. Pleasant, even. It's the first day in a long time that hasn't felt heavy.

When the laughter dies down, Dr. Ferguson clears his throat. Assuming he's ready to launch into another story, I sit back and scan the room as I sip my tea.

Spence shifts in his chair, causing the feet to scrape against the wood floor, catching my attention. When I focus on the group again, Dr. F is on his feet at the other end of the table.

He stands behind my mother, his hands cupping her shoulders. Clearing his throat once more, he zeroes in on me.

"Now that all the presents have been opened and dinner and dessert are done, there's something Magnolia and I need to discuss with you kids."

As he shifts his attention to Greedy, my heart hammers double-time, triple-time even, and a tidal wave of anxiety barrels into me.

Levi catches my knee under the table.

Greedy shifts his chair ever so slightly, clearly on alert as well.

Spence appears unfazed, though I've never known a person with a better poker face than him.

Dr. Ferguson lowers his gaze to my mother, then looks back at me.

Why the hell does he keep looking at me?

Are they breaking up? No. Surely she wouldn't travel all the way back here and go through all this just to break up with him.

They're both far too calm for that anyway, and she's been sticky sweet to him since she returned.

I look at her again, noting the sallowness around her eyes, her subdued expression .

Some of it is age, I'm sure. Some can be attributed to her lifestyle choices. She always has loved her wine.

Shit.

There's no way she could be pregnant, is there?

Greedy catches my gaze just as the thought registers.

The look of panic on his face tells me he doesn't like where any of this is headed either.

"There's no easy way to say this," Dr. F. starts. For a long moment, he doesn't continue, causing the tension in the room to thicken so drastically it's hard to breathe.

"Go on with it, then," Spence eventually urges, breaking Dr. Ferguson out of his dramatic spell.

"Your mother," he looks to me.

"Magnolia," Greedy corrects under his breath.

"She's sick. She needs a liver transplant."

Confusion swirls in my gut as I study my mom.

Rather than looking at me, she's focused squarely on her lap as she lets her husband speak for her.

"She doesn't look sick," I assert, aiming the accusation at Dr. F.

She doesn't look particularly well, either, but I keep that line of thinking to myself.

"We've been treating the symptoms," he supplies, smoothing his hands over my mom's shoulders. "It was likely caused by some kind of virus—Epstein-Barr or something similar. Some people are more susceptible to autoimmune diseases," he explains. "But there's hope, in this case. It's very likely that a partial liver transplant will save Magnolia's life."

The room is silent, yet the buzzing in my ears is incessant. I should be concerned about my mother's health, her emotional well-being. Instead, I'm more concerned about Dr. Ferguson.

This will hurt him. Having another sick wife—another person he loves battling for her life. And then there's Greedy. This isn't fair to him either. His dad's time and attention should be focused on him, not on my sick mother .

Honestly, my emotions surrounding my mother's health are almost nonexistent. The people around her, though, our shared family? I care deeply about how this will affect them.

"Hunter," Dr. Ferguson says, pulling me from my spiraling thoughts.

Clutching my hands in my lap, I assess him. The dark circles under his eyes I'm only now noticing. The way his lips are turned down and his shoulders are slumped.

"There's a strong possibility you would be a donor match for your mother."

"Bloody hell," Spence curses.

At the same time, Levi's grip tightens with bone-crushing intensity on my knee.

"Me?" I ask with a laugh. "I'm pretty sure I need my liver, Dr. F."

His answering nod fills me with dread.

"You would keep your liver. Most of it, at least. The liver is a regenerating organ. If you're a match, and a healthy candidate, you would undergo a partial transplant, giving a small piece to your mother, which would hopefully grow inside her and fully restore her health. It's called a living donor transplant."

I—I…

Confusion and fear and anger roil in my stomach. I don't even know what to think. What are the risks? What if it doesn't work?

"A living transplant," Dr. F continues, "is a very solid option in this type of scenario. It's the best-case scenario for both of you."

"Is this a joke?" Greedy demands, his spine snapping straight.

Dr. F rears back, his eyes widening. "I assure you, son, it's not."

"Then how the hell do you figure that a living transplant is the best-case scenario for Hunter?"

Dr. Ferguson's gaze softens. "I can't imagine Hunter wouldn't want to help her mother, Garrett."

Right. Most children would do anything in their power to help or heal an ailing parent. Except …

"Why does she need a partial liver transplant?" Greedy asks, his tone full of accusation.

Dr. Ferguson appears unfazed, but my mother sits up a bit straighter and glares in Greedy's direction.

"Magnolia has autoimmune hepatitis. She isn't in acute liver failure yet, but it's likely she's heading that way."

"Is it from drinking?" Greedy accuses, attention locked on my mother.

It isn't lost on me that he and Dr. Ferguson are the only ones engaging in conversation. I'm… hollow. My mother is silent. I don't dare look at Spence or Levi.

If I do, I'll break.

"Garrett," Dr. Ferguson scolds, wearing a disapproving frown. "You know there are multiple causes of hepatitis—"

"I do," Greedy replies, cutting his dad off at the pass. "It can also be hereditary. Are you really going to let Hunter go forward with compromising her own liver, knowing she may suffer the same autoimmune disease in the future?"

"We've got a lot of testing to do before a final decision is made," Dr. F says, avoiding Greedy's question. "We knew this would be a shock. That's why we waited until after the festivities to share the news."

He grasps my mother's shoulders again. In response, she curls her fingers around one of his hands. Only then does she finally look up and lock eyes with me.

I know this play. She's using him. Based on the hardness in her eyes, she's been planning this for a very long time.

"I just got this family back together," Dr. F laments. "I can't lose her now. I won't."

There it is.

A plea from the only parental figure who supported me when things got hard. On the surface, the request is reasonable. A small sacrifice on my part to save my mother .

But what if I just flat-out don't want to do it? What if I don't want to make a sacrifice for her?

I sit silently, clamping my mouth shut. If I open it, I can't guarantee that what comes out won't be a ground-shaking scream.

My mother continues to stare at me. Silently challenging me until my eyes burn and tears well along my lower lashes.

Eventually, Dr. Ferguson addresses me again. "Take a few days to think about it, kiddo. It's a big ask, but we know you'll make the right call. I can talk you through the medical components. Nothing has to happen immediately, but we should get the ball rolling soon."

"Hunter."

Greedy's voice breaks through the deluge of emotions that have swamped me and are holding me hostage. If I can just seek him out… follow the sound of his voice…

" Hunter ."

He calls my name again and again. It takes all my strength to turn toward him. To focus on his face. He's no longer in the chair at my side, but crouched at my hip.

I blink once, twice, and scan the table. Only then do I realize that Dr. Ferguson and my mother are already gone.

It's just Greedy, Levi, and Spence gathered around, staring at me, wearing expressions filled with pain and concern.

"Hunter." Greedy takes my hand and brings it to his lips. "You don't have to do this."

I open my mouth to reply, but I'm at a total loss.

All logical thought has evaporated.

How is she always three moves ahead of me?

"I can see your wheels spinning, Firecracker." Kabir takes my other hand, then guides me to my feet. "It's been a long day. You need rest."

I nod mindlessly. That's all I've got.

"Come," Spence tells me. "Let me run you a bath and then tuck you in and end this godforsaken day."

I nod again, offering apologetic glances to Levi and Greedy .

Neither man looks upset. At least not with me. They look as shell-shocked as I feel. Like a massive, major, life-changing bomb has just been dropped, all wrapped up in a pretty red bow.

Merry fucking Christmas, indeed.