“Hunter…” she says again.
I blink.
What?
Is she callingmethat?
I lean in. “What did you say?”
Her arm shifts enough to lift her hand a few inches off the blanket. She points at me with an unsteady finger. “Hunter.”
My jaw tightens.
Hunter.
Some other guy’s name doesn’t get to show up in her mouth while she’s drugged and pliant. Who the fuck is Hunter?!
“No.” I squeeze her hand. “I’m Jax.”And I’m going to kill whoever the fuck Hunter is.This is really the first guy that comes to her mind when waking up? My heart does a sagging thing in my chest.
Her eyelids droop, then flutter back open. She frowns like I’m being difficult on purpose. Then she nods, slow and solemn, like she’s solved a riddle.
“You kill rabbits,” she slurs.
My brows come together. “…Rabbits?”
“Little sad eyes.” She pouts. “You kill them.”
The dots finally connect, and I laugh as relief floods me. She doesn’t mean Hunter. She means hunter likecamo and a rifle.
“No, buttercup. I kill people.” I smile brightly. “Not rabbits.”
She whines, which only makes me laugh harder.
“That’s worse,” she mumbles, and then smacks her lips together like she’s thirsty. “Your hand is warm.”
I glance down, and my thumb is brushing lazy circles over her knuckles like a habit I’ve always had. I don’t let go.
“They gave you some nice stuff,” I mutter, watching her struggle to keep her eyes open. “Bet this is the first time you’ve been relaxed in your whole life.”
She huffs. It might be a laugh. Or maybe she’s annoyed that I’m still talking. Hard to tell with her like this, with her sedated and soft, edges blurred and sharp tongue on pause. It’s unnerving.
“You’ve been watching me sleep,” she whispers.
“And enjoying every minute of it.”
She hums like that’s an amusing answer. Her fingers twitch in mine, then go still again, and I watch her for a moment. Her messy hair splayed across the hospital pillow, her face slack with exhaustion, but calm now.Peaceful. And she’s going to need it, considering what’s coming.
“Hey,” I say, quieter now. “You scared the shit out of me, you know that?”
She doesn’t respond. I don’t think she’s asleep yet, but she’s close.
“You don’t get to do that again.” My voice cracks, and I clear it. “Collapse like that.”
I cut myself off before I say too much. Before I tell her I thought she was dying. Before I admit I begged the nurse for a fucking update like a pathetic… boyfriend? I don’t even know what we are—what she’ll allow—but regardless, she’s mine.
“I’m fine,” she murmurs suddenly, even though her eyes are still closed.
“You’re not.”
