Chapter Fifty-Three

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❝change (pronounced tʃeɪn(d)ʒ or cheynj), verb
to make or become different.❞

Hunter woke up in the middle of the night.

It was the Fourth of July. He would've been playing in Washington tonight, and searching for his daughter at the same time. At least, if circumstances had permitted it.

But there Ryan lay, as beautiful and haunting as ever. He propped himself up on his elbow and stroked her hair gently, imagining that all the crazy things going through her mind weren't hurting her. Pretending that she still loved him.

He knew she did, to a point. But she had been through so much that she had forgotten how to love properly. She pulled away from any close contact, in fear that she'd lose the only thing that really mattered to her- her family. And losing them would be losing everything.

Though she had promised to visit a therapist, it had proven useless. She simply either wouldn't talk, or gave curt answers, making the therapist unable to help her in any way.

She stirred slightly, waking up. "Hmm?"

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's okay." She turned over onto her side, and sighed. "Bring me an ibuprofen and a Nyquil please?"

"Sure." He stood up, walking to the medicine cabinet and finding the ibuprofen in the middle of Ryan's vast collection of supplements and medicines. He found a bottle full of pills, all different colours. Frowning, he picked it up, examining it. It couldn't have been some sort of mixed medicine- he could see ibuprofen in there, along with Nyquil and aspirin, and plenty of other ones of all the painkillers she was taking. So what was it?

He took that back to the room, along with some ibuprofen and gave her the painkillers first. When she had taken them, and was about to go back to sleep, he said, "Wait, honey?"

"Yes?" she said.

"Uh... what's this?"

Her eyes widened when she saw it. "It's... uh... well, it's..."

"I thought we worked through this," he said. "I thought you threw these away."

"I... didn't. I couldn't."

"Why not?" he demanded.

When she avoided his gaze, he opened the jar and walked back into the bathroom. She followed him, trying to stop him. "Hunt, no!" He tipped the entire bottle into the toilet. She gasped, trying to pull him away. "Stop that!"

"Get off," he said, pushing her away. "This is for your own good."

When he pressed the flush button, she began to cry. "What's your problem?!"

"I'm trying to save my wife from committing suicide, and I'm the one with the problem?!"

"You don't get it!"

"No, Ryan, I don't think you do! I'm suffering too, alright?! You're not the one who has to try and pretend to be happy in front of the kids while knowing that your partner is doing everything she can to avoid you. You're not the one who has to watch the woman you love slowly fall out of love with you. You're not the one who has to pretend that this child will make everything better, because it's not going to! How could you keep hoarding these damn pills even after all the promises you made Robbie?!" he nearly yelled. "We're married for a reason, Ry. We are in this together. So don't you dare hand this battle to me just because the going's getting tough."

She cried quietly, not looking at him, and he sighed. "Don't you dare cry. That's just blackmail."

Instead of stopping, she began to cry harder, and for the millionth time, Hunter didn't see the strong, independent woman he had fallen in love with. He saw a little girl. One who didn't know who to trust. Another person he had to take care of.

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