Page 48 of Oathbreaker

I tasked Ella with finding Winter the best care with the most empathetic doctor on the Atlantic seaboard. When Ella told me we wouldn’t have to go far, just to their office in DuPont Circle, that made life easier.

Winter didn’t object to seeing a new doctor.

Her leg shakes as she flips through a year-old home and garden magazine. Kitty wears his service animal harness and whimpers as she jerks him up and down in a rapid staccato from his position on her lap.

He looks at me with his naturally wide eyes even wider, as if saying Dude, do something!

I run my hand over my mouth before bending over and resting my elbows on my knees.

When Winter flips a page, I notice she’s bitten her nails so short that crusty scabs run from her nail beds.

The sight makes me sad, which then morphs into fury.

Adam Collins. My father. Morris Winthrope. Uvalde, the commissioner. I’m glad her abuser is dead. I’m glad Uvalde is dead. Now every other person who played a role in putting her in this situation is next.

Her leg shakes, jostling the magazine pages so a constant rustle sounds out. I put my hand on her knee, hoping the presence will help ground her and stop her nervous fidgeting. Selfishly, I hope she’ll let me soak in her warmth.

Two seconds after my palm hits her thigh, the medical assistant opens the door.

“Mrs.Winter Brigham?” she calls out. Winter’s head snaps from her magazine and to the bubbly nurse. Her mouth gapes open when she turns to me with narrowed eyes.

“Mrs.Brigham?” Winter asks. Her eyebrow quirks up.

My mouth twists. “Fight me about it later?” I’m unsure if it was the wrong thing to say or not. She blinks at me for a heavy beat before standing, ushering Kitty to the ground.

I stand to go with her, but her soft hand on my arm stops me.

“Alone, please.” There’s no anger or aggression in her voice.

“I don’t want to leave you alone, Winter,” I reply.

“I don’t want—” she breaks off, looking back at the attendant and raising her finger to let her know she’ll need just a second. “I don’t know what I’m walking into here,” she murmurs.

Understanding dawns. She doesn’t want me to be there if something comes back wrong.

“I can be there to support you through whatever, Winter.”

She shakes her head. “Not this time, Hunter.”

I don’t know if she means I can’t give her support this time or not to go into the office this time, but I’m not given clarification as she spins on her heel and walks through the door.

I settle back into the seat and drop my head in my hands, running my fingers through my hair.

We’re not making progress. We’re not moving forward. Sure, she’s welcomed a few platonic touches, but those instances are few and far between now. Those first few days, she needed me. She wanted to be around me. But now, I don’t know if I’m pushing too much or not enough; I don’t know if I’m saying the right things or completely wrong things.

I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.

I don’t know how to help Winter come back from this tragedy. I drop my head even further.

My phone buzzes, and I glance at the screen.

“Talk,” I say sharply, and Leo blows a breath on the other side of the phone.

“The guys in New York came up with nada. Isla Cara is deserted—not a single soul in sight. And the houses in London, Paris, and Thailand are empty. Your father has officially gone ghost.”

The phone protests as I squeeze it in my palm.

“As much fucking money and time as we spend on technology, we can’t catch this one motherfucker?” My voice is raspy and low. I’m the only person in the waiting room, and that’s by design. I didn’t want Winter’s anxiety to get triggered, so I made sure they cleared their calendar for any other patients except Winter for the entire afternoon.

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