“H-Hunter?” I ask, but he doesn’t say another word. He pulls me out of the van and to his chest before pushing the door closed. The wind tugs at us as he carries me the few steps to his truck through the ankle-deep snow. Then he opens the passenger door, sitting me inside before closing the door for me.
The truck is still running, and the heater is on the highest possible setting, blowing warmth out of the vents. Tears start forming in my eyes as I realize how cold I am now that I feel the warm air blowing into my face.
Saylor is sitting in the back seat, and there is so much compassion in his voice when he tells me, “He’s got you. You’re gonna be fine.”
Hunter gets in the driver’s seat and closes the door, pulling his hood off his head and looking me over. My lips are trembling, and tears are streaming down my face now.
“Th-thank you. I’m sorry,” I whisper, knowing I would just sob if I tried to say more.
His gaze flicks between my eyes. “Fuck, Shortcake, your lips are blue.” He reaches out to turn on the heated seat for me, then takes my cold hands in his from under the blanket. “Icicles,” he mutters while he rubs them before bringing them to his mouth and breathing warm air into them. The gesture is sweet and considerate, making me cry even more. All the while, a storm of feelings brews inside me, just as haunting as the storm outside.
He cared enough to come for me and rescue me a second time.
I gulp the knot in my throat and the foreign feelings down.
There's no space for them.
“Told you he’s the good one,” Saylor whispers from behind me, pulling me out of my thoughts.
Hunter’s ocean blue eyes come up to mine, his brows furrowed with worry as he reaches out to touch my nose. “My hands are too cold. I can’t feel it,” he mutters before leaning in and pressing his lips to the tip of my nose. I guess he’s trying to check if my nose is too cold or on the verge of getting frostbite, but it feels like he’s kissing it, and tingles spread in my stomach.
Fuck.
Hunter leans back slowly but stays close, looking down at me. “Cold, but you’re gonna be fine.” His deep timbre just stirs the tingles while he lingers for a second before sitting back and putting his hands on the steering wheel.
“Sorry,” I whisper again, hating that he’s out here in the cold for me, but at the same time, I love it.
It’s complicated.
He drives back to their place slowly, the snow making it hard to see. The only sounds for a long time are the windshield wipers and the blowing of the heater. My hands and feet are starting to tickle, but not in a good way. It hurts, like when your limbs fall asleep, and you move them, so they wake up too fast.
I cringe and shudder.It’s just all too much now.
“You good?” Saylor asks, leaning between the seats to look at me, but my eyes are only half-open, and I breathe through my still-chattering teeth.
Hunter halts in front of their house, turning to me and asking, “You’re all right?” I nod, but I think my face tells a different story because he takes it between his big hands. “You’re getting warm again. It hurts, but it will feel better in a minute, okay? Let’s get you inside, and I’ll make you something hot to drink so we can get you warmed up from the inside too.”
“Okay, sorry,” I whisper, still not able to talk more. A tear streams down my cheek, and he pushes it away with his thumbbefore letting me go, putting his hood back up, and getting out to round the truck and open the door for me.
I look back at Saylor, who gives me a reassuring smile. “Right behind you, Boo.”
Hunter quickly carries me into the house, pushing the door shut behind us with a relieved breath. He lets me down on my feet and steps back.
Trembling, he leans against the door, closing his eyes, and breathing deeply. I tilt my head and look at him. After a few more breaths, he opens his eyes, stands straight again, and pulls off his coat, hanging it on the coatrack.
“Areyouokay?” I ask, sensing I’m not the only one who’s shaken.
“Sure,” he replies, taking my bag and pillow from me and setting both on the floor. Then he looks at the blanket wrapped around me.
“Want to keep that?” he asks, giving me a critical glance.
“Yes,” I mutter, pulling the blanket tighter around me. The tickling in my hands and feet is lessening. Hunter frowns at me, seemingly unhappy with what he sees. “Sorry.”
“You say that a lot,” he notes with a smile, his frown fading, but now it’s my turn to assess him, furrowing my brows.
“What?”
“Sorry…you say sorry a lot.” His gaze is soft, but the smile tugging at his lips tells me he’s teasing.
