We both go quiet, but I don’t take my eyes off of her.
Finally, I say, “What are you doing tomorrow?”
She narrows her eyes. “Why are you asking?”
I inhale sharply. “Because I have to go possibly ID my dad’s killer.”
Winter murmurs my name as she runs her hand up and down my arm. “Is that why you’ve…”
“Yeah.” I kiss her head. “That’s why I’ve been a shit friend to you this past week. I wasn’t ready to talk about any of this, and I can’t lie to you.”
“I understand. But Hunt? You could have told me that by phone, and I wouldn’t have pushed you to say more.”
“I should have. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay to shut you out without an explanation. But that’s what I’ve always done, especially when it comes to family shit.”
“I know.”
“But I’m working on changing that.”
“Hunt.” Winter sits up and looks at me seriously. “I don’t want you changing for me. I want you changing if that change makes you happier in your life.”
She’s wearing my Fire sweatshirt and nothing below the waist. Her black, shiny hair is half out of her ponytail after our vigorous lovemaking. Her cheeks are flushed, and she looks like a woman who’s just come hard. She’s never looked more beautiful.
I wrap my arms around her and stand up with her snuggled against my chest. “I get where you’re coming from, but you’re worth changing for, Princess. Let’s go to bed. I’m not done hearing you call out my name when you come.”
CHAPTEREIGHTEEN
Winter
A part of me wants to have access to the part of Hunter Storm that no one ever gets to see.
A part of me is terrified because I’m broken, too. I don’t know that I’m strong enough to stand by this man—whose energy is so powerful—and help him heal when I’m still trying to heal myself.
But when he asked me to come with him to the police station, I didn’t hesitate.
I know what it means for Hunter to let someone in even a little in regards to his father’s death. I was touched he reached out for support and more than a little surprised.
But I’m determined not to let him down. I’ll be strong for him, and I’ll be there for him as much as he’ll let me.
* * *
I wake up before Hunter the next morning. I glance at the clock. Only eight a.m.
But Theo’s hungry. Every morning, he waits for me to open my eyes. As soon as he sees I’m awake, he starts purring. And moving. He stands up, stretches, and makes his way from the foot of my bed up to my head where he stops and lets out a full meow. If I don’t get up and feed him, he meows again. Yes, he has me well-trained.
Hunter’s heavy arm over my side is keeping me pinned firmly against him, so I lift his arm and slip out from under it. I’m completely naked, so I grab one of Hunter’s oversized hockey jerseys from his walk-in closet. It reaches my mid-thigh and is seriously comfortable.
I’m going to miss stealing Hunter’s shirts when I’m back in Manhattan.
The thought comes out of nowhere, and it makes me nearly stop in my tracks. The idea of leaving him is getting harder and harder.
I push the unpleasantness of it all out of my mind and walk into the kitchen to get Theo his breakfast.
After feeding the kitty and cleaning his litter box, I head back down the hall where I bump into a sleepy Hunter. He’s wearing nothing but gray track pants that hang low on his hips, exposing the dark trail of hair leading to an impressive bulge. His dark hair sticks up on his head, and his green eyes look at me hungrily.
