“Hunt—”
“Why aren’t you watching television?” He used the smoke to point at her book. “What the fuck is that even?”
She threw her head back and let out a laugh. Hunter grinned, his heart dancing in his chest at the sound of it. “I was a bookworm once upon a time, you little shit,” she explained. “I decided to get back into it.”
“You don’t own books.”
“Roy got me a whole bunch.” She waved in passing at the corner of the room where a stack of books sat on the dresser. “He’s been bothered about me being here, says I need to suck it up and go to him. I said I won’t step foot in that clubhouse.”
“Roy has his own place, you've been to that place, so you wouldn’t need to.”
“That’s what he said. Anyway, I told him I’d think about it.”
Hunter nodded, contentedly. “You should. He loves you.”
His mother was so beautiful, but when she was shy? Jesus fuck, she looked like a fuckinggirlagain. Pushing 50 and she was honestly the most radiant woman he’d ever seen, aside from Skye. Kayla was gaining weight, had her curves back, her dark hair with the white stripes looked shiny, her skin dewy instead of dull. Whatever the fuck Roy was doing it was working—because Roy treasured women, and the one he loved? Well, Kayla was his pearl.
Hunter still remembered how normal it was for her to be covered in bruises. A lot of his memories consisted of her looking sad, withdrawn, sporting a black eye. It was why he tried his hardest to take most of the hits. Even as a kid, he’d rather be the one to carry the scars.
“I’m not ready,” she confided in him just then, chewing her lip. “Sometimes…I don’t know, sometimes I see your father in his eyes, and it freaks the shit out of me.”
“Well, they were twins, so it’s hard not to.”
“They look nothing alike.”
“Except, like you said, the eyes…”
She let out a long sigh. “Yeah.”
He watched her for a moment as she buried herself in thought. Not wanting her to be dragged back into the past, he dug his hand into his pocket and withdrew the folded envelope. “I got you a little something.”
The second her gaze spotted the envelope, she rolled her eyes. “No, no, Hunt, not this again—”
“Shut up,” he cut in, bending over to set the envelope against the lamp on her bedside table. “You need it. I can see you’re eating—”
“Hunter, you put a thousand in the envelope last time.”
“Was that all?” he asked, eyes bright.
She huffed out another laugh, this time looking startled. “Now, I don’t need it, Hunt. The house is in good repair, Roy comes around to cook for me. You guys keep treating me like I’m an injured bird—”
“You’re not ready to fly yet,” he cut in, sounding solemn now as he gave her a look loaded with affection. “Ma, your wings are clipped, and you’re only starting to get better now, and this time you can’t owe it to Onyx. You’re doing it on your own.”
On cue, Onyx jumped on the bed and butted her head against his mother’s shoulder. Demanding pats was this little shit’s favourite thing to do. Kayla smiled sadly at Hunter as she rubbed the scruff of Onyx’s neck, letting out a shaky sigh.
“I’m older now,” Hunter added in a quiet voice as he studied her. “I don’t blame you for being in a dark place. I understand what trauma can do.”
She held back her tears as she stiffened a nod. “You seem a little better.”
He sat back in the chair now, getting comfortable. “Better?”
“You were pretty miserable the last time I saw you.”
He shrugged, closing his eyes as he felt a wave of weariness wash over. “I’m alright.”
She didn’t believe him. “How long’s it been without her?”
“Coming on three months next week.”