Page 34 of Pretty Little Trigger

CHAPTER 33

Alana

My alarm goes off at 6:30 a.m. I blink at the ceiling.

Then at the soft morning light curling around the edges of my blackout curtains.

No. Absolutely not.

I shut my eyes again and sink deeper into the warmth of my bed, limbs heavy and unwilling.

It’s my birthday. That has to count for something.

One day off from training.

Just one. Hunter will understand.

Probably. Maybe.

Knock.

Knock.

I groan into the pillow.

“Can’t a girl get one day off?” I yell, voice still gravelly from sleep.

There’s a pause outside my door.

Then Hunter’s voice—low, quiet and somehow even deeper in the morning.

“No, actually… I’ve got something for you.”

I roll onto my side, still buried under the blanket and lift my head just enough to speak.

“Come in.”

The door creaks open.

He walks in slowly, wearing his usual training gear.

Black joggers, a fitted shirt and that annoyingly casual intensity like he was built for early mornings and control.

But it’s the thing in his hands that makes me sit up slightly.

A cupcake. Pink frosting.

A single candle, already lit.

The flame flickers gently as he steps closer.

I blink, stunned. “What is that?”

“Happy birthday,” he says, voice almost shy.

A pause settles between us.

Thick with something I don’t want to name this early in the day.

He crosses the room and sets the cupcake down on my nightstand.

The candle glows softly in the dim light.

I stare at it for a second, then glance up at him.

My mouth twitches. “You lit the candle and everything.”

He shrugs, like it’s nothing.

Like he didn’t just walk into my room with a tiny, thoughtful gesture that makes my chest ache.

“Make a wish,” he says.

I look at him. Then at the candle.

I close my eyes.

I wish for a kiss from Hunter.

I don’t know why the thought pops into my head so suddenly.

Maybe it’s the cupcake.

The candle. The way he said ‘happy birthday’ like it meant something.

Or maybe it’s because he looks fucking edible in his training gear.

All quiet strength and sleepy eyes, like the morning hasn’t had a chance to harden him yet.

When I blow out the candle, the room feels quiet in a different way.

Like something shifted, just barely.

I pick up the cupcake, take a small bite and hum.

“Okay. Fine. I’m awake now. Let’s go train.”

He grins, slow and crooked.

“You sure?”

“Nope. But if I don’t, you’ll just pull me out of bed anyway.”

“Accurate.”

“Happy birthday to me,” I mutter, dragging the blanket off and swinging my legs over the edge of the bed.

He doesn’t move until I stand.

And even then… I feel his eyes linger.