20 Questions

Chapter 28

We journey back to the lodge, but Hunter hasn't spoken a word since we left the restaurant. The silence is more painful than the blow to my head so I ask him if he is mad at me. He comes to an abrupt halt, turns to me and grabs my hands.

"Jenna. Baby, no! I could never be mad at you, especially not for what just happened. Nothing about that was your fault. I'm just mad that it happened. I should have been there sooner."

"Hunter, there was no way of knowing that he would be waiting for me in the hallway. Nobody should have to be escorted to the bathroom. Well, unless you are a celebrity, I guess."

"I'm sorry," he says, his thumb grazing my cheek bone. "I can't stop thinking about his hands on you. A man should never put his hands on a woman. Maybe it just brought back some memories of my abusive father, I don't know. I'm sorry if I made you feel that way though. You are taking this really well by the way."

"I'm a lot tougher than I look," I tell him, straightening my shoulders and forcing a small smile. "I don't like being caught off guard and I almost never am. I really am fine, just more irritated than anything else. I came out of that bathroom and- "

My words are cut short by a very frustrated Hunter. "Can we not talk about it right now?" he asks, his tone as cold as the December air whipping around us. I nod, painfully aware of the wall that is rapidly rising around him.

Hunter grabs my hand and kisses the top of it. I can see that he is still angry so the remainder of the walk back to the lodge is filled with uncomfortable silence. His hand is still bloody, but he waves me off, mumbling something about it being "superficial" before turning his attention back to the walk ahead. I'll clean it up when we get back to the lodge if he lets me anywhere near him.

When we make it back, it is busier than I have seen it so far. People are bustling around with armfuls of garland and lights, making me wish I were enjoying this instead of walking on eggshells. The lodge employees are carrying boxes of Christmas decorations to the large conference room. Through the door to the conference room, a large spruce tree stands in the corner in all its lighted glory and employees are setting up tables and arranging centerpieces. I had almost forgotten that tomorrow is Christmas Eve.

The guys have finally risen from the dead and have taken their usual seats at the bar. Hunter lifts my hand and kisses it softly. He tells me that he needs a couple minutes to himself after what happened at the restaurant and disappears down the hall. I consider walking after him to tell him not to worry, but I decide to respect his wishes and give him his privacy. I walk over to where the guys are sitting and plop down on one of the barstools.

"What's up, girl? We were wondering if you guys were ever coming back," says Patrick.

"Yeah, and I was wondering if I would ever see you guys roll out of bed today. How are those hangovers treating you, boys?" The guys laugh and try to convince me that they don't have a hangover; that they were just tired. "Uh huh, you know I'm a nurse and I've seen a few hungover people in my day, right? Anyway, we would have been back sooner, but we had to wait for the cops to get to the restaurant and give them a statement."

"Cops!" they all say in unison. Bryson then proceeds, "Why in the hell did you have to talk to the cops? Are you ok? Is Hunter ok? Do we need to kick somebody's ass?"

Telling the guys what happened at the restaurant was like telling my four older brothers that some boy pushed me off the merry-go-round on the school playground. It starts with shock and disbelief before transitioning to rage. When the anger settles, compassion and regard surface and I'm left with four pairs of eyes cautiously studying me and waiting for me to shatter to the floor. It did upset me, I wouldn't be human if it didn't, but no matter how I feel about it, it's unparalleled to Hunter's interpretation. He's crushed, blaming himself for a situation that was clearly out of his control. He can't predict the actions of a homicidal lunatic any more than he can predict the weather. He was kind and comforting when I needed him to be, but he pushed me away when it was my turn. I can shield him from having to rehash the unfortunate event to his brothers, but he wouldn't allow me to comfort him in the aftershock and it's not sitting right in my soul. If this is going to work, he needs to know that he is not alone in this. He needs to understand that it's not the small celebrations that strengthen a relationship, but how two people lean on each other for support when shit gets messy. I could have pushed harder but managing a crisis with someone who has experienced unimaginable things like he has is uncharted territory for me and I feared I would make things worse.