Page 118 of Piece Us Together

“I’d fucking hope so. If you find out someone you love has trauma, you approach shit differently. It doesn’t change how you love them, it changes how you show them that love. Sharing your triggers with him, sharing all these worries, lets him see all of you instead of just the pieces you’re willing to show him right now. Of course you’ll be different to him then. You’ll be whole. He may love you even more for that.”

“I—” I stop, closing my eyes and trying to breathe. My body is shaking. I don’t think it’s because of the cold. “I’mscared.”

“Be scared then, Maison. Be scared and do it anyway.”

Be scared and do it anyway.

The words echo in my head as I walk from the downtown area toward Hunter’s house.

Be scared and do it anyway.

It starts to snow just as I reach the start of Hunter’s street. I put my hand out, letting the flakes gather in my palm. My feet are frozen on the pavement. I don’t know if I can do this.

Be scared and do it anyway.

Hunter’s house is lit. There’s a car I don’t recognize in the driveway. I stand on the sidewalk, hands stuffed in the pockets of my jacket. Snow collects on my shoulders as I try to gather the courage to walk up to the door and knock.

Be scared and do it anyway.

But I’m not just scared, goddamnit. I’m fucking terrified.

I’m shaking by the time I make it to the door. My throat feels swollen shut with panic, my head dizzy like it hasn’t been over an hour since I drank, like I just gulped down a pint of whiskey only seconds ago.

It hurts to knock, the fresh cuts on my knuckles throbbing as they’re rapped against the door. I wince when I notice drops of blood.

He’s going to be so disappointed in me.

He’s going to send me away.

He’s going to tell me he realized I’m bad and he doesn’t want anything to do with me and the only hope I will have is to beg him to at least let Nolan still—

The door swings open, revealing Hunter in a pair of sweatpants and—and—my sweatshirt.That’smysweatshirt. It’s oversized on him, dipping slightly at the neck because that’s where I always pull on my clothes when I’m anxious. He looks good. Right.

He looks like mine.

“Maison.”

I’m suddenly reminded of the first time I showed up here, Nolan beside me. I remember the way Hunter had said our names. I remember thinking how happy he had sounded to see us on his doorstep. Howpleased.

This isn’t that.

This is all sharp relief and aching want. It’s something so much bigger. It hurts so much more.

“Hunter,” I whisper, not trusting my voice at full volume. “I—” My eyes fall past him, over his shoulder. The world stutters to a stop at the sight of a man kneeling straight ahead, just behind his couch, tucked to the side of the hall and open area that the kitchen is settled across from. There’s a cushion beneath him. Nolan’s cushion.

Oh.

“I’m so glad you came. I’ve been—please, come in. Come inside, okay? Let’s—”

It’s strange, what happens inside of me. I’ve only felt it once before—when I got the phone call that my little brother had been captured by my enemy. It’s like the world around me takes a step back. A step out of reach. It’s like I’m isolated in a bubble and everything feels impossible and I’m not sure I’m human, I’m not sure I actually exist, I’m not sure how this reality can be my own.

The feeling is odd. Disconcerting. Terrifying, really.

What’s worse is the moment the feeling stops and the world snaps back into place around me and I’m crushed by the weight of it all. It’s breathtakingly painful.

Anger surges forward, my default self-defense.

“You move on fast,” I say in a voice that’s so cold, even I’m chilled by it.

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