Stephanie
TWO
Breathing isn’t enough for a romantic heart. I need to sing into the night and dance into the morning.
“How many books did you accumulate?” my brother grumbles as he tapes up the sixth box stuffed full of literary escapism. We’re both bookworms, so I don’t know why he’s acting surprised.
“These are my favorites. The rest I’ve left with the institute.”
Parting with the stories that expanded my tiny, sheltered world was difficult. But knowing I’m leaving them for others who are in a similar place helps.
“I’m more concerned with the nail polish collection,” Eleanor, his fiancée, mumbles as she zips up the large vanity case and jiggles it so the glass bottles clink together.
“An expression of mood,” I explain. “When I was struggling, it was a way of communicating.”
She tilts her head. “Interesting and clever.”
“Thank you.”
She views the world in a way I’ve never experienced before. She sees beneath the things others find boring, and it makes me feel vulnerable but understood. She is the perfect sister-in-law. Speaking of which...
“When are you getting married?” I demand. “I need to be a bridesmaid before my wrinkles set in.”
Hunter snorts. “Your skin is flawless. However, it’s not me who’s the holdout.”
Eleanor rolls her eyes. “There’s no rush for a piece of paper to tell me what we both know.”
It’s a touchy subject for her. The cult she grew up in tainted her view of marriage. That he got an engagement ring on her finger is a miracle.
I exchange a glance with my sibling, whose gaze softens as he observes the woman who has captured his affection.
I would give anything for a man to look at me that way.
Like I hung the moon and the stars in his sky, and there is nothing he wouldn’t do to protect me.
I have the protection, arguably too much of it, but love that has you in a chokehold?
The kind that makes my breath hitch every time I look at them?
That right there is the kind of love people ruin themselves chasing.
Beyond my brother, I’ve only ever had one man who has come close to displaying that kind of emotion.
I glance at Eleanor, the woman who shares her DNA with that very man.
Her brother is an enigma, the kind of man who walks into a room and makes everyone else subtly rearrange themselves around him.
I’ve explored this in therapy, and apparently, it’s not uncommon to form attachments in your head to someone who saves your life.
In my story, he’s a superhero. But every time I enquire about him, Hunter and Eleanor divert the conversation.
“I still think this is too soon,” Hunter mutters while flicking open a drawer and finding it empty for the first time in years. He scowls as if he can’t comprehend the space where my possessions existed for much of my adult life. But can’t he see that my soul is dying in here?
He turns to face me and opens his mouth to no doubt list the thousand reasons my release makes little sense. I pat his cheek and give him a smile. “You gave me everything, Hunter. The space to heal, to feel safe in this world. But we are both aware that’s a false narrative.”
He folds his arms and scowls down at me. Stupid height. Why did he steal all the tall person genes? Couldn’t he have left a few for me? “It’s not false if you remain here.”
I sigh and prepare to point something out that I know is going to hurt, but it’s also not his fault.
Eleanor zips up my suitcase with a huff before leveling her glare on him. “Wrong,” she says, cutting through all the bullshit in a way that makes me love her more every time she does that. He truly has met his perfect match.
His jaw tics as the memory crashes between us. This very institute. The ship. The rope biting into my throat hard enough to leave bruises I still trace in the dark sometimes.
Hunter sees survival as something fragile. Temporary. Like if he loosens his grip for even a second, the world will sink its teeth back into me.
“Fine, then I insist you come live with us.”
I snort. “And swap one gilded cage for another?”
“You’ve been free to leave for many, many months,” Chief Nurse Hannah declares, gliding into the suite I’ve called home for far too long.
“See? Even the professionals say I’m ready.”
Eleanor squeezes Hunter’s arm, and he tears his gaze from mine to hers. “You gave her a haven, and now she’s strong and ready to fly. There is no better compliment.”
He groans low in his chest, signaling that I’ve won. “Tell me the plan again,” he demands.
Hannah winks at me from behind Hunter as she shoves a brown paper bag full of the medications I need for the next month into my toiletry case.
“Honor has sent a car and driver,” I start.
“No,” a familiar feminine voice declares as a blonde bombshell swans into my suite with an infectious grin. “I’m your driver.”
I squeak and throw my arms around the woman I’ve been getting closer to these last few months. She’s the head of a charity that helps women who’ve experienced violence, and that’s exactly where I need to be—helping others who don’t possess the means to do it themselves.
“And she’s living with you?” Hunter checks.
“The pool house,” Honor reminds him. I tried to insist on renting my own place, but I think my brother would have kidnapped me himself. It’s clear even now that I’m farther along in healing than he is. Hunter carries guilt as if it were a second skeleton beneath his skin.
“I’d prefer it if she were on the premises,” he argues.
Honor straightens her spine. “That is Stephanie’s choice, not yours. The offer is there. The pool house has the same security measures as the rest of the house. It is alarmed and linked to the main house, the company, and our onsite twenty-four-seven guard.”
“Better security than here,” Nurse Hannah points out.
“We’re only a few hours away,” Honor reassures him. “You can visit any time.”
“No, not any time,” Eleanor grumbles. “Like anyone else, we will check and plan a visit.”
She gets it, and in the face of four strong women, my brother is struggling to gain ground.
“She’ll be close to me, working with the charity,” Honor reassures him.
“Not front-facing,” he asserts.
Not yet. Even I know I’m not ready for that. But I’ve done the healing many of these people face. I can listen, understand, and not judge. That’s all I can offer, really.
“No,” Honor agrees. “First thing this week is prep for the charity ball planned for the weekend.”
My lips tip up, and I marvel at the fact that I’m not running for the hills at the thought of a party when the last one I attended altered the course of my life.
But this isn’t a frat party; it’s a bunch of rich folks wanting to spread their cash for tax relief.
Honor’s job is to make them believe her charity is deserving.
“We’ll come,” Hunter decides, sliding his phone out of his pocket and swiping open his calendar. “When and where?”
Honor’s eyes narrow. “This weekend.”
Eleanor’s lips press into a thin line. “That’s not happening.”
He glares at her. “You don’t have to come.”
She folds her arms. “Neither do you. It’s Rose’s birthday. Someone needs to keep a lid on that girl, because Mark is run ragged.”
“I’ll keep her close,” Honor reassures him.
Many others might not understand Hunter’s nature. He wasn’t always like this, but I know he blames himself for so much of the bad that’s happened to me. He needs evidence before he believes the world won’t swallow me whole again.
Hunter’s shoulders slump. “Fine, but you will check in with me twice a day.”
I shake my head. “Twice a week, same as here.”
“No.”
“I’m surviving, not thriving, Hunter. It’s time to let me spread my wings, the ones you’ve taken care of for so long.”
“You’re saying this is my fault.”
I shrug and raise onto my tiptoes to place a kiss on his cheek. “I don’t view it like that. I see this as your success.”
Surrounded by love and acceptance, they can’t protect me if I’m choosing to put myself out there. But I am sure of one thing. If anyone comes for me, I have the most formidable women at my back and an overbearing brother at my side.
I’ve already experienced more horror than most in my short twenty-eight years. The laws of the universe dictate that my future should be filled with happiness.
Pity the universe isn’t listening.