Page 138 of Now and Then

My voice wobbles, and I huff out something that’s half-laugh, half-sob. “Only you would flirt when you’re hurt.”

“I mean,” he murmurs, one corner of his mouth lifting, “I could be on my deathbed, and I’d still flirt with you.”

“Can we not mention deathbeds?” Another sob-like sound squeaks out.

His eyes open slowly. He shifts, wincing as he raises his head. “Hey . . . C’mere,” he says, voice rough.

I hesitate. “I don’t want to hurt—”

“Just let me feel you,” he says, his good hand lifting toward mine. Hunter scoots his legs to the side, making room for me to squeeze one butt cheek onto the edge.

“Better?” I ask, being sure not to lean into his body too much.

He releases a long exhale and says, “Much.”

That does something to me. The fear still weaving through my chest loosens, and my body relaxes. I lightly cup his cheek, careful of the tape and wires. His skin is warm under my touch. “You scared me.”

He shifts enough to lace our fingers together. “I’m sorry babe. Didn’t mean to.”

Of course he didn’t. He never means to worry anyone. Just like Luke and the rest of the guys, they do it by existing, by throwing themselves headfirst into danger and shrugging like it’s no big deal.

Behind me, Luke exhales the kind of breath someone makes when the adrenaline drains out. I glance over, and he gives me the smallest nod.

Hunter’s eyes track the movement. “Hey, Luke.”

Luke steps to the foot of the bed. “You look like hell.”

Hunter smirks. “Feel like it too.”

A nurse pokes her head in. “Hunter, Doc wants to keep you overnight, so we need to get you settled into a real room.”

“Tell Dr. Winters I’m fine to go home tonight.”

“Damn, first responders,” Dr. Winters comes around the corner, a giant smile plastered across her face. “You all are a bunch of pains in the ass when you’re on this side of things. We talked about this, Hunter. You’ve got significant burns and a fracture. You’ll want to enjoy the IV meds for a while.”

“Fine,” he mumbles.

“Can we stay for a little while?” I ask.

“Visting hours are over soon,” Dr. Winters says, “but I’m sure the nurses won’t mind.”

We trail behind the stretcher as nurses push him out of the ER bay. The hallway feels endless, no sound except shoes on linoleum, machines beeping, and whispered orders bouncing off the sterile walls. My chest tightens with every step, remembering too many days spent with Dad under too many fluorescent lights. Days where the outcome wasn’t good.

My shoulders drop and a wave of calm crashes through my body because this time, the outcome is different. Hunter is injured, but he’s fine. He’ll get to come home.

Inside the small burn unit room, the nurse helps Hunter scoot onto a new bed. When he’s settled, she disappears to get him water.

“Let me find you a gown,” I say.

The hallway storage closet is filled to the brim with blankets and gowns. With Luke’s help, we find one that might fit Hunter. I grab a few blankets for extra measure.

“Alright, bro,” Luke says, “let me help you sit up.”

I step up to the side of the bed and reach for the measly ER blanket draped over his lower half, but Hunter presses his arm down, stopping me.

“I’m good to stay like this,” Hunter says, looking side to side.

I roll my eyes. “Hunter, this place is freezing. Let us help you put a gown on.”