Hunting the Fairy Tale

Chapter 72 - Friday: A Busy Morning

Ryan

I take the stairs two at a time, making way too much noise this early in the morning, but we have about five minutes to get the bins to the kerb, or we'll be stuck with full garbage cans for a week.

The family will thank me later.

Last night, I was so out of it I didn't even think about the bins. Hunter wasn't himself either, and he must've forgotten too because when I got up just now to go to the bathroom, I stretched, looking out of our bedroom window and saw that the kerb in front of our house was empty of bins.

Forget the bathroom! I need to get Hunter to help me with the bins first.

I barge into his bedroom, throwing the door open with more force than I intended and yell: "Hey, Buddy! We need to get the bins out right now! Hurry!"

It's not the most gentle way to wake somebody, but this is an emergency. I'm crossing the carpet while I speak, stopping at the bed to give my son a shake and am immediately glad that I didn't do what I usually do: dive on top of him and wrestle him awake.

It is not Hunter blinking up at me with sleep-blurred eyes; it is Willow.

Willow?! Did I go a door too far?

Easel near the window. Check. General chaos. Check. Drawings on the wall. Check. Distinctive boy aroma. Check. This is Hunter's room.

Last night, Beth and I talked about the blossoming romance between Willow and our son, but neither of us thought for one second that things had gone this far already. I have no idea what to say or how to handle this awkward situation. It's all new to me!

"Lolo?"

"Good morning, Uncle Ryan."

It is really her; I'm not having hallucinations.

She's alone in the bed, and she does not look well. She is too pale, and her eyes have a bruised look about them. Just what has Hunter done to the girl?! I should've given him more guidance on how to treat girls. He has virtually no experience; for some stupid reason, he doesn't even date!

I swallow, suddenly very nervous and uncertain.

"Where..." I clear my throat when my voice refuses to cooperate. "Where's Hunter?"

She points towards the open bathroom door, wiping her eyes with the other hand.

"Bathroom?"

"No, Uncle Ryan, he had a bad back spasm last night and came to my room. I massaged it out for him, and he fell asleep in my bed..."

I am so relieved to hear that I laugh rather happily, causing a frown to slip between Willow's eyes. She must think I'm heartless, laughing about something like that. In fact, now that the relief is ebbing away, I'm feeling like a pervert with his brain stuck in the gutter, and I'm also very worried about my boy.

I saw him eat antacids like sweets since we came back from Grey Mount, and I don't know how long that's been going on. Stomach issues and back spasms are all symptoms of Hunter's not dealing with his trauma and pain.

Next Friday would've been Misty's 39th birthday.

It is one of the two hardest dates for both of us. That and her death anniversary, one month later. Beth and I will be visiting her grave in Blue Bay on our way to Durian Bay for our breakaway weekend.

I decided to go away for a few days over that weekend because, for some reason, Hunter handles the bad dates better when I am not around. I also handle it better when I'm alone with Beth. I honestly don't know what I've done right to have been given an understanding, supportive wife like her. How many men can say that they'd been blessed with two incredible wives in their lifetime?