Shattered King(65)

Josh’s chatter carried me forward, past the bathroom and out to the living room/kitchen area. I spotted my son first. He was leaning against the coffee table, plate in front of him, and jam all over his face from the toast he was eating.

I walked over, crouched down, and kissed him good morning. “Hey, baby.”

He gave me a wide smile and took another bite of his breakfast. I heard the clink of a mug against the counter followed by the unmistakable sound of coffee being poured. I forced myself to lift my gaze.

Hunter’s eyes were on me, boring into me, like he was trying to see inside my head. “Looks like you could use some caffeine.”

He wasn’t wrong. Good to know I looked as crappy as I felt. I kissed Josh’s soft cheek then went to join him. He gave me a head to toe, and heat instantly danced along my skin. I was wearing one of Hunter’s shirts. It was long, just about to my knees and I could tell he like me in it. “Thanks.”

He took a sip of his own drink, watching me over the rim. “How’s the arm?”

“A little sore, but I’ll live.”

A dark shadow crept across his face, and the stoic act dropped. Anger and a whole host of other overwhelming emotions poured off him. They hit me like a tidal wave. I sucked in a sharp breath.

“I’m okay,” I said lamely.

His jaw got tight but he didn’t say anything, just dipped his chin.

I retreated to the couch by Josh. I wasn’t in the mood to talk; I didn’t know what else I could say. I was about to sit down when my phone started ringing on the coffee table. I checked the screen.

The hospital.

My stomach twisted instantly, nausea curling low then sliding up the back of my throat. I didn’t want to answer. I knew what they were going to say. I knew.

I felt like I was moving in slow motion as I picked the phone up, hand shaking, ice shooting through my veins a second before I hit the call button. “Hello.”

“Lucinda Frost?”

“This is Lucinda.” It felt weird saying my full name. I hadn’t said it out loud since before I ran. My voice had come out nothing but a rasp, so I repeated it.

“This is Doctor Evans. I’m . . . I’m so sorry to tell you this . . . but your mother passed away early this morning.”

That’s all I heard, because the phone and the cup I was still holding slipped from my fingers. Hot coffee splashed over my bare feet, the clatter of the mug echoing loudly as it rolled off the rug and onto the hardwood floor. I went down a second later.

The next thing I felt were strong arms around me. Hunter’s voice. It sounded muffled, probably because the blood rushing through my ears was deafening, drowning him out. I crushed my face against his chest, clinging like he was a lifeline. We moved, and then we were on the couch. Everything around me vanished, narrowing to a pinprick. All that remained was pain, so raw I was drowning. I had to focus on each breath, in and out, just getting through the next second, then the next.

I had no idea how long we sat like that. I was numb, inside and out. I didn’t even know for sure if I was still in Hunter’s arms or if I was somewhere else entirely.

More voices broke through the noise in my head, then I was jostled, lifted, and we were moving. A door closed, and a second later I was lying on a bed. Hunter’s bed. He lay down beside me and rolled me into him, wrapping his body around me. I breathed in his scent, the now familiar smell of his body wash. He kissed the top of my head. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

I said nothing. I had nothing to say. My mom. My mom was gone. I’d left her, left her with that sick asshole. I’d abandoned her, and now I would never get the chance to make up for that, never get the chance to show her how much I loved her, how sorry I was. If I’d been stronger, if I’d fought harder . . .

I shut down.

I felt it when it happened. The ugliness of my past coiling tight, tighter with every breath I took, until I was about to snap, and my mind just—shut down.

I don’t really know what happened after that. How long I lay there.

It must have been a while. I had snippets, like clips of a movie. People coming and going—Van, Jude, and I think Ruby, too. Hunter feeding me, taking me to the toilet, showering me. Josh’s scent, his small body asleep beside me. The doctor, the one that sewed up my arm, I remembered him coming and talking to me. I don’t know if I talked back, and if I did, what I said.

That brought me to now.

I don’t know what made this time different. But when Hunter came in and lay beside me, like I knew he’d been doing on and off the whole time, the feel of his body against mine, his fingers smoothing back my hair, it penetrated the grief, the feeling of utter hopelessness.