How much trauma have I racked up over the past two months? Can my TM Bond with Ragnar actually heal that?
I take a shy peek at Ragnar’s statuesque profile, his perfectly straight Greek nose. God, even after the fight, with his face slightly swollen, he’s still beyond sexy. My eyes shift lower to his muscular neck, strong tendons, and massive shoulders. He could be my rock, my tree, the canopy I can live beneath and thaw under…
So, on impulse, I do it. Slowly, almost timidly, I turn to the right, toward Ragnar’s bulky shoulder.
I gently rest my head on it, like it reallyis a solid treebranch I can lean on when I need to.
Right away, I can feel a flicker of surprise from him, like what I’m doing doesn’t quite line up with who he thinks I am, but then again, like he said, we don’t really know each other outside of The Sun.
Maybe it’s time to start finding that old version of Sun again?
The one who wasn’t always bitter. Always angry. Constantly fighting the emptiness and the dread of another shitty day. Maybe now, finally, there’s a newSun risingin me. Pun intended.
Again, I sneak another look at him without lifting my cheek from his shoulder. God, this feels so new. And kind of… exciting.
About ten minutes later, Summer stirs. He makes a small gesture with his hand, and Ragnar carefully helps him settle down next to us.
Very slowly, Summer straightens up, wipes his face, rubs his eyes, and runs his fingers through his hair. I can tell he’s still struggling just to sit upright, but he’s fighting to stay present.
"How are you feeling?" Ragnar asks softly.
Summer doesn’t answer. He’s staring at the ground. He seems kind of here, and kind of gone at the same time.
"I’m taking you somewhere safe," Ragnar whispers. I can see the tenderness in his eyes when he looks at his brother, and it somehow makes me happy. Ragnar cares about the people close to him, and I find it really attractive. It’s a side of him I wouldn’t have been able to appreciate even just two months ago.
We both watch Summer in silence. This poor guy went through a lot: kidnapped, forced to marry Anzo, forced into weird sex despite having no prior experience, beaten and electrocuted. He deserves happiness and—
Suddenly I feel Ragnar’s hand move across the log, and a second later, his fingers gently lace with mine.
First I reached for him, snuggling up a little. Now he’s reaching back.
It’s like we’re both trying to find our footing in whatever this is between us.
I know he’s never been in a relationship before. And I kind of forgot about the onlyrealone I’ve ever had. So neither of us really knows what we’re doing. But somehow, I feel oddly optimistic.
We sit like that for another ten minutes. But even just the contact of his skin against mine brings this strange sense of peace bubbling up inside me. It grounds me.
I glance at him. He glances back. Then he gives me a quick wink.
And yeah. Good!
That’s the only way to make it through all this without losing your mind. Stay light, keep the humor, don’t drown.
Soon, an SUV approaches. I don’t recognize it. It’s not Hunter’s. I think it belonged to his late husband. I vaguely remember it from one of their visits.
The car slows down, stops. A few seconds later, the door opens, and there he is. Hunter.
I’m stunned by how different my cousin looks compared to the last time I saw him, at his husband’s funeral.
He’s paler. Thinner. Like grief’s been gnawing at him for months, and now some kind of illness has taken hold.
Even though he’s always had that classic Nolan handsomeness, masculine, sharp-edged, commanding, something about him now feels muted. Like someone drained all the color from his world and covered him in ash. And maybe that’s exactly what happened? Hunter and Olaf were nearly a perfect match. Losing something like that… maybe most people don’t come back from it.
When he sees me, his face barely moves. Possibly, he tries to smile, but doesn’t quite get there. Like his expression is frozen into a mask.
"I’m glad you’re in one piece, Sun," he says, giving my shoulder a light slap but skipping the hug. "Seriously. Can’t believe you guys actually made it out."
It sounds like he really didn’t think there was any chance in hell we’d escape from that mafia psycho, like he’d already quietly written me off; I can’t blame him.
