DUTY

SIX

It took longer for the sun to come up, afraid like the rest of us, to face the cold. My feet were spread, arms crossed as I watched it rise, heard the shower shut off.

Tom lived with the sun, rose with it and ended his day with it. The incoming darkness was one positive for winter.

Yet here I was, staring at the negative.

Tiny, delicate snowflakes fell in waves, blown off course with a bristling wind landing in a small pile along the windows outside edge. Insulated double paned glass between me and the itsy bitsy beauties and they still rocked me awake. Each time another kissed the earth, a hair rose on my skin.

How I detested the cold.

Arms, heated and damp wound around me. Tom's tattoo's a stark contrast to the snowy morning in front of us. I relaxed into him, wishing I was as bare as him, wishing I could feel his hot skin everywhere. I peeked at him over my shoulder. "I hate the winter," I whispered.

A low chuckle and his arms tightened, a boa snatching its prey. "Sales go up in winter, crime goes down. People have more free time and less energy."

of course, he would like winter because it was good for business. I half snorted. "Sounds like the snow is doing your job for you." I teased, nestling deeper into him.

He chest rumbled behind me, breath hitting the nape of my neck. He pressed a kiss there. "There's always work to be done."

Didn't I know it. Newlyweds one day and back to the grind the next. The Don had an endless schedule, grueling and demanding. The only time his phone stopped ringing was when I shut it off.

Apparently, no one else in his empire could solve a damn problem.

I'd grown used to breakfast alone, lunch alone, dinner alone. Hunter wasn't much of a presence. Some days the two of us would fall into such a deep boredom that we'd take turns sampling the merchandise. Falling into a happier, numb world that caused my eyes to cross.

Those days caused gaps in my memory. Black spots where time should be. Had Tom come home at all? How had I gotten into bed? How had Hunter gotten home?

I certainly didn't have the answers or at least access to them. Some part of me - the logical part told me the answers were in me, somewhere. That the part of me with a taste for little white pills knew the answers.

"Not on Thanksgiving." One day. I was all I would ask for. One day, one meal together.

"Thanksgiving?" Tom asked, fisting my shirt in his hands, knuckles grazing my hips.

I turned to face him, resting my cheek on his chest. Tracing the swirls of ink with the pad of my pinky. "It's Thursday. We're having dinner. Bring Roman or whoever. I invited Elle."

Tom tensed underneath me, "Mila -" He began and I cut him off, not willing to hear it.

"It's non-negotiable. The Preston's first Thanksgiving. I'm going to remember it, Tom."

His posture stayed rigid but he gave me a nod. Leaning into him, I let out a long exhale, "I love you." He dipped down, lips hovering over mine and I skipped backward.

"Save it for tonight, Mr. Preston. I've got things to do, people to see."

Then with a clack of my new winter boots, I left him, hearing a growl drop from his mouth. Hunter was waiting at the door with a grin to match mine.

Maybe winter wasn't so terrible.

I actually only had one thing to do, one person to see. Hunter drove me as usual, parking illegally in front of the bar. the closed sign lit up, hanging off-kilter in the window. It didn't matter, I knew he'd be here. Knew he came early on Fridays. I turned the key over in my hand.

"Ready?" Hunter asked for the second time.

This time I smiled. "Yes."

Face your fears. Be strong. You're strong, Mila.

I struggled to keep my steps even, remembering how the last time I'd visited Deliverance I'd had to avoid stepping on bodies. Avoided feeling that muscle squish under my boot. I tangled my arm in Hunters, hand resting in his elbow.

He brought his other hand up and gave a reassuring squeeze to my hand. He was here with me. It was different. There was no danger.

My fingers curled into a tight fist, the scars along my palm inflaming. I'd killed someone here. Stabbed him in the neck and just walked out.

Was that who Mila Scott was?

Was that who Tom loved?

Was that why I got the ring? The last name?

Jared fell into view and I fought to keep my expression neutral. My emotions were everywhere, a sickening swirl of anger, sadness, and longing. I owed everything I had to the man before me.

He'd let his hair grow out, chestnut woven between ebony. The color drained from his face, he let his eyes drop to the counter, wiping it down.

We both knew it wasn't dirty. At the counter, Hunter braced me as I dug into my purse. A simple cream envelope. "We're hosting thanksgiving and would love if you came." I slid it across the counter, the paper catching on the moisture.

Jared finally took me in, eyes unforgiving as he looked up and down, landing on mine and Hunter's intertwined hands. Hunter puffed his chest out on instinct. Did he think I was stepping out on tom? like I had stepped out on him.

"I miss you."

My words stopped him cold. His jaw tightened and he tucked that red rag back into his pocket. "Congratulations." he spat, turning and bounding for the back office.

I shared a look with Hunter. My ring. Jared wasn't looking at our embrace, he was checking out the diamond, the band that it sat in. "Do you think he'll come?" Hunter asked, pushing the envelope deeper onto the counter.

"They're brothers."

Hunter nodded, "Would you come?"

Would I come if my boyfriend left me for my sister? Honestly, I didn't f*****g know.

I kept quiet.