Page 145 of Now and Then

He’s moving slower than usual this morning. Sweat beads at his temples. And his cast is completely filthy. My stomach tightens with the sudden urge to make him sit. Make him rest. “Hunter,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm. “Do you really think you should be—”

“I’m fine.” Sweat dampens the area between his pecs, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

The words shouldn’t make my chest pound harder, but they do. I know I’ve been hovering since the fire, but it’s warranted. My hands tighten around my coffee mug. It’s bad enough that after the accident, his chief let him continue the investigation and play a role in the raid. He looks relatively fine, sure, but in my book, he should be doing nothing but rotting on the couch until his cast gets removed.

He enters the garage and comes back with a handful of brushes and a can of stain. I wince, thinking about all the work he’ll be doing with those. I try to shrug it off. He said he was fine. But my jaw tightens. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

He laughs that stubborn, infuriating laugh that usually makes me melt. But not today. Today it makes me mad. Why can’t he just, I don’t know, not be so Hunter all the time?

“I’m two weeks from having this contraption off.” Hunter taps his cast with a paintbrush. “And Doc says my burns are healing nicely,” he says with a smile. “You don’t need to worry too much, Sut. I’m okay.”

“I worry because I care,” I snap. “And caring doesn’t mean standing by while you get hurt.”

He pauses mid-step, glancing at me with that look he gets when his serious voice comes out. “I know you care. But you can’t control everything, Sutton. None of us can.”

Tension coils in my chest, and I stomp toward the back door, but he walks toward me and holds his hands to my shoulders. “Not so fast, woman,” he growls. “You’ll ruin my surprise if you go in the backyard now.”

“Who cares about your damn surprise?” My voice is too loud in my own head. “I am not trying to control everything. I’m trying to make sure you survive.”

“Survive?” He laughs a tight, sharp laugh. “So you think a little sawdust and sweat are going to kill me?”

“Yes! Because you’re barely healed.” I point to his cast. “And you’re out here acting like what happened is no big deal.”

He pulls me to him until our eyes line up. “I never said what happened wasn’t a big deal. I know it was. But I’m fine now. You don’t need to worry about what could’ve happened.”

“I can’t help it,” I say, softer this time, even though my heart is still pounding. “I can’t stop worrying. I finally have you in my life the way I want you, and I’m so worried that the very next moment I might lose . . .”

He cups the back of my head and presses me to his chest, surrounding me with his warmth.

“Every time something goes wrong, I keep thinking it’s the start of losing you. Like everything good in my life eventually gets taken away.”

“Sutton,” he says, voice low, almost gentle, “I get it. I really do. But worrying doesn’t fix anything. Controlling every aspect of your life won’t stop bad things from happening.”

I know he’s right. I’ve just never known how to stop.

We stand in silence for a beat, me wrapped in his arms. My frustration fades, and I pull back. Hunter’s smile is gone, replaced with a careful seriousness.

I swallow. “Letting go isn’t easy for me.”

“I know it’s not.” He rests his hand on my neck. “But imagine all the good things you could experience if you did.”

“I’m just scared.”

“Then do it scared, babe.”

I grip the steering wheel the entire drive to work, Hunter’s words looping through my head.

Do it scared, babe.

Easy for him to say.

By the time I reach the office, my fingers are stiff from the cold, and I nearly drop my keys while unlocking the door. The heater hums softly as I flip on the lights.

Nat King Cole plays softly on the office speakers, but I barely hear it. With Hunter’s house finished, I’ve finally had time to tame the chaos my office became.

I try to focus on emails and the never-ending details for the open house, but the quiet office is suddenly too loud. Hunter’s voice still echoes in the back of my mind. My mind is too restless to be productive anymore. I grab my coat and bag.

“I’m heading out,” I tell no one in particular.