Page 38 of Oathbreaker

I am safe. I am safe here. I am safe here with Hunter.

“What’s going through your mind?” His voice is soft, barely a whisper over the muted hum of the plane engines.

“I was thinking about what I’d imagined my first time on your plane would be like,” I reply just as softly.

“What did you think it’d be like?”

I release a puff of air again.

“I thought it would be a happy time,” I say. He doesn’t respond.

I’d hoped the first time I’d fly on Hunter’s plane would be an adventure. On the phone one night, I told him of my dream to go back to Paris and experience it as an adult.

“What do you find so attractive about Paris, Sunbeam? Most people who visit realize it’s filthy and smelly and not at all like that Netflix show.”

I laugh at him. “I’m not expecting to grab a baguette and put it in the front basket of my bicycle. Paris is the city of love, you know? It’s the icon of romance.”

He’s silent over the line. “Let’s go for Valentine’s Day,” he says.

“Valentine’s Day? First, that’s months from now.”

“So? You think you’ll be done with me after a few months?” It’s a rhetorical question, but everything in my body screams, I’ll never be done with you, Hunter Brigham.

I don’t respond. “Two, we can’t just go off gallivanting to Europe. I’ll have schoolwork most likely, and?—”

“We’ll take my jet to and from, which cuts down on ninety percent of all travel headaches.”

I pause at his statement. “You own a jet? Why am I not surprised you own a jet? Of course, you own a jet.”

His laughter cuts me off. “It’s more Leo’s jet than mine, but I use it whenever I want because, technically, BwP owns it. And I want to take you to Paris and do it on the most romantic day on the calendar. I want to eat French pastries with you and get the helicopter to fly us around the Eiffel Tower.”

I choke up. “I’d really like that, H,” I tell him. I can feel his smile on the other end of the line.

The feeling of Hunter’s finger grazing the side of my hand brings me back to the plane.

“Tending the rose garden with my mom as a kid. Kissing you there,” Hunter says.

“What?” I turn my head toward his.

“Going to the Eastern Market and seeing your face light up as you talked to the shopkeeper about crystals,” he adds.

“What are you talking about?” He turns his head to look at me. Our eyes clash, and I see a tangle of sadness and comfort in his gaze.

“Waking up in your apartment with the sun blazing through the windows and you in my arms. Making pizza with August. Watching you two play video games.”

“H,” I say. My breath stutters in my chest.

“These are happy moments for me. Some of the best, happiest moments I’ve had in my entire life.” The side of his mouth quirks up. “Tell me some,” he says.

“Tell you some of my happy moments?” I reply. He nods.

“Okay.” I close my eyes. “Riding bikes with my mom and dad along the river. Paintball with August.” I swallow again. His eyes don’t waver from mine.

“Keep going,” he says.

“Going out with Kitty for the first time alone. Moving into my apartment.” A sob breaks through my restricted throat, and tears leak from my eyes and race to the pillow beneath my head.

“Tell me more, baby.” Hunter’s hand is all the way on top of mine now, and his thumb rubs the side of my wrist.

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