8. Kabir
Chapter 8
Kabir
I pad up the stairs, quietly making my somber retreat to the second floor. I typically find solace in alone time. I’m usually content with my thoughts.
Tonight, I can’t keep my mind from racing.
Once I’ve secured the bathroom door behind me, I unwrap the robe from around my body and step out of the wet swimming trunks I borrowed from Kylian. He’s leaner than me, but the plain navy blue shorts served their purpose.
I turn on the shower and adjust the knob as far as it’ll go. Without giving myself too much time to think, I step under the spray and let the scalding water drown out all the noise in my head.
Hunter.
The boys.
The pain I caused.
Despite it all, I’d do it all over again.
This scheme has given us much more than just the time we need to hatch a more permanent solution. It’s given us distance from Magnolia and stopped the unannounced surgery scheduled for this week. We’ve received confirmation that Dr. Ferguson understands and respects the situation and have created boundaries that cannot be crossed. Because despite Hunter’s mother having no regard for her daughter’s well-being, common sense and southern manners prevent her from attacking a pregnant woman. At least physically.
It worked.
It was awful. I loathe what I did and how I hurt all of them in the process. But it’s over, and it worked.
I lather up and scrub my skin raw, desperate to wash away this day and the fallout of my actions.
My arms, chest, and back are covered in bright red splotches when I emerge from the shower. My physical container is well and truly spent. It’s unlikely I’ll have any trouble sleeping tonight. Thankfully, I had the foresight to reschedule all meetings and other work obligations originally set for tomorrow.
I don’t bother flicking on overhead lights. Instead, I make my way to the bed in the dark. As I pull back the sheets, the outline of a person becomes visible.
I freeze, and my heart takes off.
Small frame. Soft curves. A halo of golden hair arranged on the pillow under her head.
She reaches out one hand, silently inviting me to join her.
My Firecracker.
I’m a clumsy mess of emotion as I scramble to join her.
She’s here. With me. For me.
Or is she here to confront me once more? To demand answers? To ream me out for hurting her, and for hurting them, too?
Slower now, and with my stomach churning, I sink into the mattress. I take my time arranging the sheets before rolling to one side and tentatively smoothing the back of my knuckles over her cheek.
“Are you well, love?”
She shakes her head.
No .
I gulp past the trepidation that comes with the knowledge that I’m seconds away from the scolding I’m owed. If unleashing on me will help her cope, then by gods, I’ll gladly spend all night on the receiving end of her wrath.
“What do you need?” I press.
Her small hand captures mine and holds it to her face. She nuzzles against it, then peels my fingers off her jaw and kisses the center of my palm.
“I don’t need anything. I just want to be here for you tonight,” she whispers into the darkness.
My body locks up, the breath in my lungs catching and taking up residence until my chest burns.
Finally, I exhale loudly. “You’re here for me?”
With a nod, she kisses my fingertips. Then she slinks close and snuggles into me.
I wrap my arms around her on instinct, my skin searing hot in contrast to her bare legs and shoulders.
Her mouth finds my chest, her lips covering me in soft, wet kisses. She trails between my pecs, then creates a path up my throat.
When we’re face to face, she pauses.
“Thank you for what you did today.” With each word, her lips brush against mine with tenderness and care.
I curl my hands into fists, agitation and anger prodding at my insides. She shouldn’t be thanking me. She shouldn’t even be here.
As if reading my mind, she smooths a hand up my neck and grazes my nape with her nails. She places a barely there kiss on my lips, then cranes back a few inches to meet my gaze.
In the moonlight, there’s no mistaking the sincerity shining in the mossy green windows to her soul.
“I trust you. I love you. What happened earlier…” She trails off.
I stay quiet, granting her the space she deserves to process.
She deflates a little. “I don’t understand it,” she finally admits. “But I know you, and I know you did it for me. For them. For us, and for the vision we share for our future. I told you I didn’t want to run anymore. You found a solution that makes it possible for us to stay. So… thank you.”
My body sags in exhaustion and relief. With a groan, I loop both arms around her and hold her close, savoring the reprieve of this moment. Until now, until her comfort was readily available, I had not allowed myself to acknowledge how deeply I needed it.
A shuddering exhale escapes me.
It’s met with a small sniffle.
“Hunter—”
She shakes her head, denying me the opportunity to explain or to attempt to comfort her in return.
“I don’t want to talk about any of it tonight.”
I adjust my hold on her, clinging even tighter, desperate for her to feel my sorrow. To understand how sorry I am for the way I hurt her. I’m chomping at the bit to further explain. To apologize again. To beg for her forgiveness.
“Tonight, I just want to hold you. Comfort you. Care for you the way you always care for me.” Her breath is warm against my neck, the words taking on a life of their own as she speaks peace into the air around us. “You’re so good at taking care of me. You’re so good at taking care of all of us,” she amends. “Thank you for loving us so well.”
Her words wash over me, gratitude and comfort I don’t feel worthy of accepting blanketing us in a quiet stillness.
She nuzzles into my shoulder, and I position my chin atop her head. With every exhale, I soften, and with every intake of breath, I allow her words to seep a little deeper into me.
Loving her is my greatest accomplishment. Caring for her and all of our boys is a privilege I hold in the highest regard.
Despite the pain I caused and the havoc I wreaked today, she’s still here. Our love endures. Hope for the life we’re building together sustains us.
“I love you,” I murmur into her hair, allowing my eyes to finally close on this wretched day. “I’ll make this up to you, and I’ll make it right with the boys.”
“I know you do, and I know you will,” she murmurs back. “Greedy especially needs the assurance. Promise me you’ll talk to him?”
I still.
“Levi will be fast to forgive,” she explains, still nuzzled against my chest. “Sione will come around in his own time, regardless of what you do or say. But Greedy…”
I nod in understanding, my chin rubbing the crown of her head with each pass.
“You blindsided him once before, just like this.”
I think back to my unceremonious arrival in South Chapel. Was that really just weeks ago?
“An explanation would go a long way in ensuring he's okay. And Spence?”
Sighing, I pull her closer. “Yes, love?”
“I need you two to be okay. You can’t be at odds with Greedy and claim to fully love me, because he’s a part of who I am.”
Her words sink in and settle in the pit of my stomach. I’m aware I owe Garrett a myriad of apologies. Hearing her express the same sentiment further confirms what I need to do. I’m a stubborn bastard, though. It may take a bit of time for me to muster up the courage and tact required to truly get through to Garrett in the way he deserves.
“I love you, Spence. I want to love you forever.”
“Endgame,” I whisper. “We always have been and always will be.”