Chapter 34 Bunny
Hunter’s soft humming pulls me from consciousness.
Bland walls greet me as I open my eyes, sunlight filtering through the partially closed blinds to bathe the room in a dim beige glow. The clock above the hospital door reads four in the afternoon.
An ache in my lower body drags a groan from my throat when I try to stretch—and am painfully reminded I just pushed a whole-ass baby out of my kitty.
“How are you feeling?” Hunter’s question is quiet. I turn my head to find him stretched out in a reclining chair, Faline nestled on his chest, sleeping peacefully.
“Like someone shoved their fists up my vagina and stretched it wide enough to fit a watermelon in there.” I huff a laugh and use the buttons to raise the bed into a sitting position. “I don’t kink shame, but I don’t think I’ll ever understand fisting.”
Hunter doesn’t laugh. Instead, he huffs a noncommittal hum, gaze never leaving the baby.
A subdued silence blankets the room, weighted by the last three months of my absence.
“She’s so beautiful,” he says at last, gently pushing the soft purple baby blanket—a gift from Carla—back from Faline’s face. “It’s crazy to think we created something so small. So fragile. And now we’re responsible for her for the rest of her life.”
The rest of her life.
Tears line my lashes, emotion clogging my throat.
“Promise you’ll tell her about me? All the good things—none of the bad, of course,” I croak, forcing a laugh.
“And promise me you’ll send photos. Lots of photos.
” Winding the edge of the scratchy blanket around my fingers, I drop my gaze to my lap, unwilling to look at Hunter while I babble about accepting my punishment.
“Bunny,” he sighs—tiredly, aggravatingly—but I barrel on.
“I don’t want her to ever see me behind bars. So it’s okay if you tell her I died in childbirth or somethi—” I cut myself off. “No, don’t tell her that. I don’t want her growing up with a complex. I’m sure Dove will think of something.”
“Bunny.”
“Promise you’ll let Dove be the main female presence in her life—besides your mother.
I don’t want Gwendolyn anywhere near her.
Or Vixey, for that matter.” I don’t care what the story is there, the blonde is lucky I’m sore and wearing an adult diaper, or I’d go hunt her down for throwing away the friendship she fought so hard for.
“Little Rabbit, stop.” Hunter sighs again, places Faline in the bassinet, and comes to sit on the edge of the bed.
I can’t stop, though. Can’t stop crying even when he takes my hand and rubs his thumb across my knuckles. Can’t stop the sobs wracking my body as I picture the motherless future our child will have.
His palm is heavy and warm as he cups my cheek, guiding my face up. “As pissed as I am with you right now, Bunny, I would never do that—and I never planned on doing that.”
Surprise flickers through me. “What?”
He scrubs a hand down his face, and now that I’m seeing him in the light of day I catch the sunken cheeks and dark circles. The chiseled perfection is gaunt, rife with stress and exhaustion.
Guilt slams into me, another apology forming—though at this point, I’m sure they’re meaningless. Before I can speak, a soft knock pulls our attention to the door.
“Hey,” Vixey greets sheepishly. She’s changed into a pair of flare jeans and a white crop top, hair piled messily on her head. An oversized rust-colored cardigan engulfs her tall frame.
The vision of her coming up behind Hunter last night flashes through my mind.
My gaze hardens as I look between them. As if it’s a shield, she pulls the cardigan tighter, eyes bouncing between us before landing on the bassinet.
A sweet smile tugs at her mouth, a heavy breath follows.
“Care to hear my explanation for being at Hunter’s last night? ”
“I don’t care to be here for this.” Hunter stands, gracing her with a warm smile he hasn’t given me.
The man who praised and guided me through birth with whispered encouragement and affectionate touches has retreated.
In his place—the jaded shell I left behind, the one who is very much sick of my shit.
“And you’re always welcome in my home, Vix. You don’t have to apologize for it. To anyone.”
Direct, and landing exactly as intended, his statement stuns me.
Always welcome.
My home.
Vix.
You don’t have to apologize.
I have no right to be upset. But fuck if it doesn’t hurt hearing him accept her into his home when I know I’m not exactly welcome.
Vixey groans, muttering, “Hunter, don’t make things worse. Go get us something hot to drink, will you? And a bowl of Lucky Charms.”
Gratitude bubbles up despite my best efforts. I’ve missed real coffee and my favorite cereal. Shockingly, my appetite perks at the mention of my once staple food, instead of souring my stomach.
Hunter looks between us, shakes his head, and disappears without a word.
Despite what I saw last night, there’s zero sexual tension between them. It’s not like when he kissed Dove to rile Wrenley. Their aura gives off a sibling vibe that I felt long before I even left. It only sharpens my curiosity about why she went to him for comfort—and what happened with Todd.
Vixey wastes no time, throwing her crocheted bag into the chair by my bed and sinks into it, locking her bright golden gaze with mine.
“Look, I’m just going to come out and say it.
Todd and I got into a fight last night. We were at a party and…
” She bites her lip, weighing how much to tell me.
“Let’s just say he turned out to be a huge dick. ”
Surging forward, she grabs my hand. “What Dove said is true. She and Wrenley aren’t in town—though they’re racing back now.
It’s the only reason I went to Hunter’s.
Things with Alex are strained, to say the least. And I…
I didn’t want to be alone.” Her voice tapers off.
She shrugs, the movement causing a lock of honey hair to slip from the loose bun into her face.
“I didn’t have siblings growing up. Hunter feels like the big brother I never had.
That’s it. I swear. And I know I’ve never been your favorite person, so I probably can’t lose more points than I already have by saying this, but Hunter has been a fucking mess since you left.
He’s not eating, not sleeping. Dove, Wrenley, and I have been making sure he doesn’t drown himself in a bottle of whiskey.
I’ve kind of assumed a little-sister role.
Especially because things are strained between him and Dove…
He doesn’t know I know why, but it’s obvious. ”
Sympathy floods me. I know what it’s like to grow up lonely.
The foster kids I grew up with were solitary, keeping to themselves.
I never had true siblings. Hunter’s often said how much it sucked to grow up without them.
He and Vixey are only children, so it makes sense they’d gravitate to each other.
Especially if they were all hanging out a lot over the last few months.
I never want Faline to feel alone. Never want her to feel like she has nowhere to turn if she needs a shoulder to cry on. Friends matter, but family—the ones you choose—is priceless.
And everything she says about Hunter… it’s nothing I don’t already know, but the guilt threatens to swallow me anyway.
“I’m sorry about Todd. And about my anger. I’m sure you can imagine how it looked…”
“Oh, I’m sure it looked awful. But I promise, it’s not like that.
” She trails off as Hunter reappears, then continues as if he’s already heard her story.
“I have a past that’s… less than savory, let’s just say.
One day I’ll tell you about it. But last night I found out Todd is tied to the singular most awful experience I’ve ever had. I just didn’t want to be alone.”
Curiosity piqued, I arch a brow and squeeze her hand before taking the Lucky Charms, bowl, and milk Hunter hands me. “Consider it water under the bridge.”
A sigh escapes her lips. “Thank you. Now,” she claps, then winces when I glare and point the milk carton toward Faline, “sorry. Where have you been the last few months?”
“I think that’s a conversation she and I need to have alone, Vix.” Hunter passes her a cup with a tea tag sticking out of the lid. “If you don’t mind.”
She glares at him, clearly wanting the juicy details of my disappearance. But Hunter’s right—he deserves to hear it first, and we have other things to discuss.
Like how he alluded to not planning on putting me in prison before Vixey interrupted us.
“We can talk later.” I don’t bother looking at either of them as I busy myself making my cereal.
Blowing out a breath, she acquiesces, holding her hands up as Hunter shoots her a look. “I’m going! I’m going. Geesh.”
When her footsteps fade, Hunter closes the door, pausing before turning to me. I assume—hope—he’ll pick up where he left off, but he pivots into detective mode instead.
“I’m getting the letters now.” He checks on Faline, then drops into the chair Vixey vacated. “And I know who’s sending them.”
Disappointment gives way to a desperate need to know. “Who?”
The anticipation is crippling. How did he figure it out? Have they caught the person? Do we know them?
“Nathaniel’s brother was released from prison around the same time you got the first letter.
” His tone is all business, like he’s briefing a colleague, not the woman who just gave birth to his baby.
My annoyance about it fades as he continues, “I saw him on one of the security cameras before he disabled it. At first I thought it was Nathaniel, but there was obviously no way that was possible, so I did some digging. Turns out Neil was exceptionally pissed when he found out about Nathaniel’s death.
I guess they’d been in contact. Nathaniel told him you were cheating on him. ”