Hey all! Thanks so much on the reviews for the last chapter! Just a small note - check my profile page for in-between-chapter updates. Right now I'm borrowing my Dad's old laptop, since I accidentally killed mine by spilling liquid on it. So, I don't have future chapters of certain stories and will have to wing it until I'm able to back up the files from my dead laptop. LOL.
Let me know what you guys think of this one! Currently, I'm thinking of ending this fic around chapter 10.
Stephanie's POV
Sometimes, during the most vicious of storms there are moments of peace. Moments of calm. Moments where it seems like things are going back to normal. Moments where everyone's fear of imminent destruction and chaos, vanish.
That moment should be coming soon, I think. Once Hunter and I have our kids, everything will be fine. At least until we have to deal with Orton again.
I close my eyes and take another nervous sip from my water bottle. Almost like I am somehow trying to further wash down the pain pill I took over an hour ago. I'm just really worried about being...normal. Or to at least project some semblance of normalcy for my family. It's important for me to make my children feel safe and secure. To let them know that I'm just fine and so is my relationship with their father. They'd asked Hunter why he let the "bad man" hurt me.
I heard them, with my own ears. We were having a family chat via speakerphone. My husband looked absolutely shattered by the innocent question. Beyond that, he looked like he was asking himself the exact same thing. In and of itself, that is utterly absurd. Hunter would do anything to protect me from harm, just as I would do for him. And he was handcuffed to the ropes and desperately trying to get free when Orton decided to give me a concussion.
If the tears in Hunter's eyes when Orton hurt me weren't enough proof...then the ugly, red marks the handcuffs made from his frantic twisting and pulling, are. I have no doubt that he tried his damndest to get free. To help me.
The fact that he truly tried is enough for me. But it's not enough for him. I can tell. He can hardly look at me and when he does he just looks guilt-stricken. Despite constantly reassuring him that I'm fine and that this isn't his fault, the look remains the same...
That's a lie.
The expression on his face got even worse once he talked to our kids a couple of hours ago. And now every time I try to bring up the Orton situation, he shuts down on me. Eventually, I decided to get some air, while he chose to sulk – or whatever it is he's doing - in the master bedroom.
A breeze passes over me, briefly giving me a reprieve from the heat. I don't bother to put my hair back as it had been. I simply inhale the smell of nature...the smell of spring, that the wind had blown my way.
The knock at our hotel suite isn't very loud. But I can still hear it from where I stand, leaning my forearms on the railing of the balcony. I push off of it and turn around, heading back inside. I close the sliding door, making sure I secure it well. The last thing we need is for one of the kids to wander out there unsupervised.
I kick off my sandals, while making my way through the master bedroom, not particularly caring where they land.
Before I make it out, I hear my children's voices. They sound relieved. They sound excited. They sound happy again.
Another voice – the deep, gravelly one belonging to my husband interrupts. "Hey guys!" He exclaims before letting out a small, content grunt. "I missed you two!"
A laugh of mine has to be stifled, when what Morgan and Devin are saying comes out almost totally incoherent. If I know them, they're burrowed into their father's massive chest or neck and that's why they sound muffled.
With the living room finally coming into view, I pause in the doorway, leaning against the wall with my arms crossed over my chest. The corners of my mouth lift in an absolutely genuine smile at the sight in front of me. I'm right; Morgan's face is buried in Hunter's neck and Devin's is halfway pressed into Hunter's chest.
Hunter's parents notice me in the doorway. I acknowledge them with a nod and a wave, not yet wanting to spoil the adorable family reunion. I know it must mean the world to Hunter that the kids have embraced him so fervently. That they aren't hurling accusations at him about what happened to me. I won't purposely break up their moment; I'll let Hunter have it as long as he can.
Which apparently isn't very long, as Morgan lifts her head and spots me.
"Mommy!" She yells. Thank God my head is generally feeling better and that I had enough sense to dope myself up beforehand, so to speak.
Busted, I get off of the wall and start walking towards our family. Before I can make it, DJ successfully squirms out of Hunter's arms, hitting the ground only to take off towards me in a sprint.
His little body collides with my leg and I laugh at him, before bending down to scoop my little man up. His bluish-hazel eyes twinkle with his delight before he kisses my cheek and throws his arms around me in a hug. I squeeze him tightly and rub his back. My heart wants to break into small, unidentifiable pieces when he almost immediately starts whimpering, his small body shaking against me.
My forehead is tense with concern. I can feel it as I walk the short distance to Hunter and Mac – who's reaching out for me – but is mostly content with her father holding her.
"Hi sweetheart," I greet her with a smile before running a hand over her light brown curls. "I missed you."
"I missed you, Mommy."
I shift a still-trembling Devin so that I can give Morgan a one-armed hug to appease her.
My daughter touches a hand to my forehead, her eyebrows drawn together in confusion. "Is your head hurt, Mommy?" She asks. "Daddy's head is hurt," she states matter-of-factly, using her free hand to point her little index finger to the area where purplish bruising mars Hunter's forehead.
I rock Devin a little bit, trying to settle him down as I answer Morgan. "It's a little sore sometimes. But not as much as Daddy's."
Her tri-colored eyes blink a few times, the confusion completely evident. "So why did you let the bad man kiss you, Mommy?"
It's an active fight to keep my jaw from dropping...and to keep myself breathing.
Morgan continues her questions and speculations - and while that's distressing, it's a small blessing because none of the adults are focused on me. Yet. "Daddy's hurt more but he was moving. The bad man took you away from Daddy and kissed you and you didn't try to stop him."
Spotlight's on me, I think grimly while trying to figure out a coherent explanation for Mac. One that doesn't betray the horrible guilt that my child has made come rushing to the forefront. Sure, I was unconscious when Orton did those things. But when I saw the replay of the events, I did wonder what it would have felt like. That's just as bad as if I had been awake and just let him kiss me. Maybe it's worse. I have no idea.
Nervously, I clear my throat for composure and purposely avoid meeting the eyes of my husband or his parents. "When the bad man hurt Mommy, it put her in a deep sleep. I didn't know what he was doing."
Devin lifts his head from my shoulder and pulls back far enough so that he can look at me. His red eyes and tear-stained face send another stab of guilt through my chest. He takes a few unsteady, hiccupping breaths. "W-w-we. He was taking you, Mommy. Away."
"Away where?" I question.
"Not with us. He was gonna steal you."
On the verge of tears and completely desperate now, I look to Hunter for help. In his arms, Morgan nods her head to agree with what her little brother said.
Hunter's eyes are filled with sympathy as he steps closer to us. I try hard not to notice Patricia's abrupt whimper, or Paul's arm go around her to lead her elsewhere in the hotel suite. Hunter reaches out and touches the top of DJ's head.
Devin sniffles and turns in my arms, to look at his Dad. Hunter waits a beat – letting Devin calm down and allowing himself to collect his thoughts. "Hey, it's okay," he begins softly, continuing to rub our son's back. "Nobody stole your Mom." His tone brightens. "See?" He jerks his head towards me. "She's right there."
For emphasis, I press my lips against my baby boy's cheek a few times. "Please don't cry, DJ. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."
"Promise?" Morgan asks.
I nod affirmatively. "Promise."
"The bad man won't steal you from us?"
At this question, Hunter's eyes meet with mine. He wants to know the answer to that, too. Maybe I haven't been as inconspicuous as I'd like to think, with my strange attraction to Orton. I've gotta say, having everyone here is doing wonders for keeping him out of my head, though. I've yet to have a single inappropriate thought of him.
Before I can answer, a wave of nausea rolls over me. I swallow hard, trying to beat it back as I think of all the things I've eaten in the last twenty-four hours. When I remember the hospital food, I settle on that as the culprit for my upset stomach. Instead of replying, I put Devin down, immediately covering my mouth with my hand as I run to the bathroom, slamming the door behind me.
Immediately, I drop to my knees and throw-up into the toilet. The awful retching noises I'm making seem to just inspire my stomach to continue emptying its contents.
I wait until I'm sure there's nothing left and that most of the sickness has passed before I lean away from the porcelain god. I close the lid and flush before finally standing up. I'm a bit unsteady on my feet, using the counter as leverage to get up. I pause a moment and look in the mirror. My eyes are red and tired, my face is somewhat clammy and pale and my mouth is turned down in a frown. I turn the faucet on, splashing some cold water onto my skin before running my toothbrush under it.
I brush my teeth quickly and efficiently. The minute I spit the toothpaste out, there's a knock on the door. Guess I've been in here too long for their liking.
"Are you okay?" Hunter asks. His brown eyes are soft with concern. But they're also probing. I'm not sure what else it is he wants to know.
I give a small smile and plant a hand on my stomach for a second. "All better now." My eyes scan his empty arms and the empty room behind him. "Where is everybody?"
"My parents went to go check in to their room; the kids went with them."
"Are they okay now?"
Hunter tilts his head to the side, hesitating for a moment. "I think so. They were a little alarmed that you got sick and bolted." He shrugs. "I told them it was bad hospital food."
I recognize the source of laughter as my own. It feels alien and I'm not sure why. Maybe because my life is quickly becoming a mess and there isn't anything funny going on. "I came to that conclusion, too."
Several hours later, things have changed. My stomach has food once again, Paul and Patricia have gone to their room. And the kids are in our room, thanks to their begging. The four of us are sharing the king sized bed with ease, with the kids planted in the middle of Hunter and I.
My eyes are closed, but I can tell that the images on the television are flickering, because the colors behind my lids keep changing slightly. If I try really hard, I can sort of hear the television, too. I'm in that weird state...where I'm asleep – unable to move or respond – but totally aware of what's going on around me.
The bed shifts a little and Hunter's hand is suddenly affixed to my side. "I love you so much, Steph," he says softly.
I'd return the affection, if I was able to. It does feel like I'm smiling, but that might just be in my head. The bed shifts again and I feel his lips press against mine firmly, but briefly.
And there, I think as I start to fall into a deeper sleep. There is the calm.
