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And even in those times where Hunter’s words might not be enough, I look to my phone, where it seems like every twenty minutes there’s a new text from Maggie telling me to stay calm, to keep my head, because she knows who I am and that I’m more than smart enough to rock the socks off my professor with even the old rough draft of the paper I gave her weeks and weeks ago, so anything new I come up with is going to be incredible.
It helps.
It all helps me to keep transcribing, updating, editing, revising, re-revising, until my fingers ache, my wrists pulse with pain, and my eyes feel like two withered grapes sitting in dry sockets.
Sometime around sunrise, I look up and see Hunter on his phone, talking to someone. I suppose I hear him, too, except I’m so exhausted that anything other than the editorial voice in my head and the words on the page come across as nothing more intelligible than the voices of the adults in all the old Charlie Brown cartoons.
I turn my focus back to my work.
A few dry blinks, a few hundred words, and a few — or more — minutes later, an unexpected sound touches my ears: a baby’s cry.
I look up to see Hunter on my couch, rocking Charlie in his arms.
“What? When did Charlie get here?”
Hunter smiles at me. His answer comes in a soft, calming voice. “An hour ago. Yolanda called me. She needed a break from babysitting to handle some errands and a doctor’s appointment, so you’ll have a study-buddy for a little while. Don’t worry, though, I just fed him and he’ll probably go back to sleep in a few.”
I rub my eyes, feeling the grit of exhaustion beneath my lids. The sight of Hunter cradling Charlie tugs at something deep inside me, a warmth spreading through my chest despite my fatigue. For a moment, I let myself imagine a future where this scene is our everyday reality.
“I’m not worried, and I know he won’t interrupt my work, because I feel like I could use some sleep myself. Will you wake me in a couple of hours?”
Hunter smiles, and Charlie burps. “Absolutely.”
I nod gratefully and stumble to my bed, collapsing onto it without even bothering to change out of my clothes. As I drift off, I hear Hunter's low, soothing voice singing a lullaby to Charlie. It sounds like Johnny Cash.
When I wake, late-morning light bathes the room. I blink, disoriented, and sit up slowly. Hunter is sitting on the edge of my bed, a cup of coffee in his hand. He strokes my hair and leans down to give me a kiss that does as much to perk me up as any cup of coffee ever could.
“It’s time,” he says.
I sit up and take the cup from him, let the warm, bitter liquid between my lips and feel life bloom through my body. “Already?”
“It’s been a couple of hours. Charlie’s fast asleep, it’s all quiet, and I made you bacon and eggs.”
I kiss him again, and more warmth flutters through me. “You said Charlie’s fast asleep?”
“He is. If I know him — and I think I do — he’ll be in a deep sleep for the next few hours.”
“Deep? How deep?”
“Charlie really likes his mid-morning naps. I could probably take him to the shooting range and he’d sleep through it. Sometimes I’m jealous of how good that kid is at sleeping.”
An idea forms in my mind; I made a lot of progress on that paper before I went to sleep, and I’m not ready to go back to work just yet. “Good. Because there’s something else I need before I get back to work.”
Another kiss. I think he’s got the idea, but that doesn’t stop him from asking. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”
I set the coffee cup aside and pull Hunter closer, my lips finding his with renewed energy. My hands slip under his shirt, tracing the hard planes of his chest. "You," I whisper against his mouth. "I need you."
Hunter groans softly, his large hands cupping my face. "Are you sure? Your paper —"
"Can wait a little longer," I finish for him. "I've been working non-stop. I need this. I need you."
He searches my eyes for a moment, then nods. In one fluid motion, he pulls his shirt over his head, revealing the muscled torso I know so well. I drink in the sight of him, marveling at how this fierce man can be so gentle with me, with Charlie.
“Well, if you think it’ll help,” he murmurs.
“It’ll help me so much. I think I really need to relax, you know?”
Hunter's hands slide down my sides, gripping my hips as he lowers me back onto the bed. His lips trail along my jaw, down my neck, igniting sparks of pleasure wherever they touch. I arch into him, craving more contact, more of everything he offers.
