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Camila tested the doorknob, then flipped the deadbolt into place with a twist of her wrist. Her kids were all tucked away safe in their beds, and it was time for her to turn in for the night.
They really needed to get more beds. Willow and Amity were sleeping on camping cots in Luz and Vee’s room, and poor Hunter was on the floor in the basement. Maybe they could check out some yard sales this weekend, even just a couple extra mattresses could—
“Ma’am?”
She yelped, hand flying to her heart, as she spun around to find Hunter behind her. He was standing at attention, one fist clasped over his chest, head lowered in a slight bow.
“You startled me,” she protested weakly. Camila gently patted his shoulder, offering him an encouraging smile when he peeked up at her from beneath his bangs. “You don’t have to call me ma’am, you know. Camila is fine.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She fought back a sigh. All of Luz’s friends had brought some kind of trauma with them, and it broke her heart to see how badly they were struggling. Hunter, despite only being a couple of years older than the others, had obviously been trained as a soldier.
“Did you need something from me?” she asked.
He clicked his heels together, standing up even straighter (if that were even possible). “I wanted to assure you that I’m ready to take over watch for the night.”
“Watch? The night? Oh, no, Mijo, you don’t need to do that.”
His hand shook a little as he tightened his fist. Camila could clearly see the thin scar that wrapped around his palm and continued up past his wrist under his sleeve. “I have to protect everyone.” Hunter swallowed hard, red eyes full of emotion. “I can’t…I can’t let them down. Not again.”
“Sweetheart, you’re exhausted,” she protested. The bags under his eyes were so dark and heavy her own head ached just looking at them, and as she spoke his body swayed as though he was about to collapse. “You need to sleep.”
“I’m fine.”
“You are not,” Camila said gently. “You’re barely standing, Hunter. You don’t have to—there you go!” His knees buckled, and she lunged forward just in time to catch him. He was so thin in her arms, his body trembling with the stress of exhaustion. “You need to sleep,” she repeated.
“I can’t,” he whispered into her shoulder. “I’ve tried, Ma—Camila. But I can’t.”
He was shaking now, crumbling apart in her arms, and she was powerless to do anything but rub his back and murmur reassurances in his ear. “I know, baby,” Camila whispered, holding him tighter as though she could squeeze him back together. “I know.”
Hunter sniffed and pushed away from her, rubbing his eyes with the heel of one hand. “Sorry.”
“No, don’t be sorry,” she pleaded. She took his hand, fighting back her own tears at the callouses she felt there. The scar across the back of his hand was twisted and rough, and two of his fingers were crooked from poorly-healed breaks. He’d seen far too much in his short life.
“I was going to watch a movie,” she lied. She’d been planning to go to bed, but there was no way she could leave him alone now. “Do you want to sit with me for a while?”
He nodded, and she led him over to the couch to sit down. She’d lost count of the number of times she’d woken up on this couch with a sore neck after falling asleep during a late-night movie…one more night like that wouldn’t hurt.
She gathered up an armful of blankets before settling down at one end of the couch, Hunter sitting awkwardly at the other end. “Come on, Hunter,” she called, patting her leg after wrapping one of the blankets around herself. “Put your head here, okay?”
Hunter stared at her. “Why?”
Because you’re exhausted, she thought. Because the second you put your head down you’ll fall asleep, she thought. Because you need softness and love and affection, she thought. “It’s just something mothers do,” she said.
“Oh.” He shifted in place for a little before relenting, curling up on the couch with his head pillowed on her knee. “I never…I don’t remember my mom.”
“I know, Mijo.” She shook a blanket out to cover him from the shoulders down. Camila didn’t know much about Hunter’s family, but she knew he’d been orphaned at a young age and raised by his uncle. His uncle, who none of her kids had a kind word for, who lead some kind of cult back in the demon world, who’d probably been responsible for half the scars on Hunter’s body.
“I’ll do it for her, sweetheart,” she whispered as she stroked her fingers through his hair, seeing that Hunter was beginning to doze off almost immediately. “I’ll love you for her, for as long as I can.”