“This just bites.” I rubbed my forehead as I stared at the water. The goal was to clear my head and find some peace. Instead, I was dwelling on what my grandmother had told me, even though she hadn’t exactly provided the answers I needed. She seemed so appalled at the thought of anyone following in Great-Grandma’s footsteps that I’d covered to the best of my ability. Not only was I fearful, I was embarrassed. What would this ultimately mean for me?
The creek, of course, could provide no answers, so I dusted off my hands on the seat of my pants, determined to move on to another location. I almost jumped out of my skin when I found Hunter watching me from about twenty feet away. He had a stick in his hand, and a surprised look on his face.
“What are you doing here?” we both blurted simultaneously.
He laughed before I did, alleviating some of the tension. Then I laughed because the situation was too strange not to embrace. Besides, if I didn’t laugh, I might start crying. That would freak him out ... and probably me, too. And, if I started crying, there was a legitimate possibility I would never stop.
“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he said when he’d recovered. “I was just surprised when I saw you. I thought ... well ... it was like going back in time for a bit.”
I understood, because it almost seemed kismet when I turned to find him standing there, as if nothing had changed and we were still the same dreamy kids who planned a life they could never share. “It’s okay.” I flashed a shy smile. “You just took me by surprise. This is Deadman’s Hill, after all. I thought maybe the dead man was finally coming for me.”
He laughed, as I’d intended. “You should write a book about this place,” he said. “You should make it a paranormal mystery thriller. Those things sell like hot cakes.”
“I don’t know if I’m good enough to plot a mystery. I’ve never tried. I focused on women’s fiction because that way I wouldn’t have to deal with a dead body. Now the only thing that’s dead is my career.”
Hunter’s eyes flashed with annoyance. “I really wish you wouldn’t say things like that.”
“Even if they’re the truth?”
“It’s not the truth, Stormy.” He was firm. “Things haven’t gone the way you thought they would. That doesn’t make you a failure. It doesn’t mean you can’t get back everything that you had.”
I told myself that he didn’t mean for there to be a double meaning to his words, but a small ember of hope ignited all the same. “I just feel a little lost right now,” I admitted. “I hate feeling sorry for myself, but that’s what I’m feeling these days. I don’t know how to explain it.”
“It’s okay to feel sorry for yourself,” he reassured me. “The key is not to let those sorrowful feelings take over your life. I did that and wasted years being a cranky mope.”
“You felt sorry for yourself for years?” I couldn’t picture that.
He pinned me with a solemn look. “I had a broken heart. It wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be to get over.”
The statement was more pointed than I expected. “Oh, I ... .”
“I’m sorry.” He held up his hands. “That was a horrible thing to say. You’re not to blame for what happened to me.”
“What did happen to you?” I was legitimately curious. “I mean ... you’re stronger than I remember.” I realized the observation could’ve been construed as insulting after I’d already said it. “You were always strong, of course, but you’re stronger now. It feels almost miraculous to witness.”
He smirked and shook his head, pointing toward the trail. “Let’s walk. If we’re going to talk about serious stuff, I need something to look at besides you if I want to keep from being embarrassed.”
“Fair enough.” I was happy for the walk. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. It’s not as if you owe me anything.”
“No, but I feel like I owe myself this chance to unload some things that have been bothering me over the years.”
I swallowed hard. “Are you going to yell? I’m not saying I haven’t earned your ire, but I’m not sure I’m up to being yelled at today. Do you think it could wait a week or two? Just until I’m feeling stronger.”
He looked amused. “What makes you think I’m going to yell?”
I shrugged. “You used to need to vent. When things got you down, when your father was on a bender and terrorizing you, venting was the best way for you to handle things.”
“I never yelled at you.” He appeared appalled at the prospect.
“No, you yelled at the universe. I just stood by helplessly and watched because I had no idea how to make things better.”
“You helped me just by being there, Stormy.” His face was naked with emotion. “You were the only one who understood what was happening. Part of that was because I was embarrassed for anyone else to find out. In hindsight, that seems stupid. I know about cycles of abuse, and my family was hardly the only one muddling through it at the time. I still didn’t want people to know. Even now I keep it to myself.”
His far-off expression made me blurt out a question that was absolutely none of my business. “Does Monica know?”
He snapped his eyes back to me, something I couldn’t quite identify flashing in the depths of his eyes. “No. She doesn’t know.” He offered up a wan smile. “Monica is not the type of person who cares about childhood trauma.”
The revelation agitated me. “Then maybe she’s not the right person for you.”
Hunter used his stick to poke at a small group of leaves rather than respond.
“I didn’t mean anything by that,” I offered lamely a few minutes later, the silence unnerving me. “I know it’s not fair to cast aspersions given ... everything. I just think you could do better. I can’t pretend otherwise.”
Amusement curved his lips. “Oh, yeah? Do you have anyone specific in mind?”
The question caught me off guard. “No, I ... no.” He didn’t think I was suggesting we get together, did he? That would be mortifying when he turned me down. “I was just talking in general terms.”
“In general terms, huh?” Now he really did look entertained. “Well, in general terms, I very much doubt Monica will be around much longer. While she’s a perfectly nice woman, our lifestyles don’t exactly mesh.”
That was a relief, though I couldn’t show it. “You should take some downtime,” I suggested. “You know, really think about things before you date someone else.”
“Is that what you’re doing? Taking downtime, I mean. Tristan would’ve taken you to fifty fancy restaurants if you’d shown him the slightest interest.”
I scowled. “Tristan is the last person I’d date. He’s so full of himself. He’s the star in all his stories. He looks pretty good shirtless, but that’s hardly the sort of thing you can build a relationship on.”
Now it was Hunter’s turn to be annoyed. “When did you see him shirtless?”
I pressed my lips together at his expression. It was one part annoyance, two parts fury, and one part jealousy. It was the last part that made me feel a little better, even though I knew it was only a conditioned response. “When I went to the basketball court looking for Bobby. I found Tristan ... and he likes to flex while talking. It’s pretty gross.”
“Oh.” Hunter relaxed, if only marginally. “I guess that makes sense. He’s still a turd.”
“You never liked him. That’s a holdover from high school.”
“You’re right. Do you know why?”
I shook my head. “No. Other than he’s an entitled little jerkwad who lives off his father’s money rather than work for anything himself, I mean.”
That was enough to elicit a true smile from Hunter, and it was devastating in its beauty. He could light up a room — or in this case an entire valley — with one expression. It almost made me think he was magical, too.
“I didn’t like him because he wanted you,” Hunter replied softly.
My heart skipped. “No he didn’t.” Honestly, tha
t was absurd. “He didn’t even notice I was alive when we were kids. He was into the rich girls, or the two well-to-do girls who lived in town. He didn’t want someone who constantly smelled like French fries while wearing off-brand canvas shoes.”
“No, that’s what you saw,” Hunter countered, eyes somber. “You never saw yourself the way you really were. You only saw the negative, never the positive. Tristan was hot for you ... and it drove me crazy.”
“It drove you crazy?” I was intrigued. “Why?”
“Because I needed you.” He was earnest to the point of pinching my heart. “You were all I had most of the time. You listened ... and we dreamed ... and even though none of it happened, you saved me back then. I didn’t want to lose you to anyone, but especially not to him.”
I found myself suddenly choked up. “You were never going to lose me. Don’t you know that I was as infatuated with you as you were with me?”
“But I did lose you.”
Tears pricked the back of my eyes. “I ... .”
“Don’t.” He waved his hand to cut me off. “Don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong. It took me a long time to see that. I was bitter after we broke up, but even as it was happening I knew I couldn’t keep you.
“You had dreams that were bigger than this place,” he continued. “You wanted to see the world. It was fun to dream that I could go with you, but the realities were different. I was never going to have the money to go to college, and asking you to stay wasn’t fair to you. I wasn’t always the smartest boyfriend, but I knew you would come to resent me if I tried to hold you back.
“I had to let you go, so I did. I regretted it every day for a long time. It hurt to think about you. Then, one day, it didn’t hurt quite as much. I still missed you, but I knew I did the right thing for you. That’s what got me through it. One of us needed to be happy. I always wanted it to be you.”
I thought my heart would break. “Hunter, I’m so sorry.” Before I realized what was happening, tears were leaking down my cheeks.
“Don’t.” He looked pained as he immediately reached up to swipe at the tears. “I can’t take it when you cry. You know that.”
I did know it, but I was incapable of stopping now that I’d started. “No, I owe you an apology.”
“You don’t owe me anything.”
“But I do.” I was insistent. “I broke up with you because it seemed I had to. I didn’t want it either, but I had this picture in my head. It was of a place I was supposed to end up.”
“And I could never make it there with you,” he surmised. “I know that.”
“But that’s not the point.”
“What is the point?” He was back to being amused as he wiped away all traces of my tears with his fingers.
“The point is I thought a certain life would make me happy. I was wrong. I spent years bouncing from thing to thing, trying to find that spark of magic everyone needs to be happy ... but there’s been nothing.”
Spark of magic, I internally muttered. Is that was this is? Is this the spark of magic I’ve always been looking for? Did I somehow manage to do this to myself? It seemed ridiculous to consider, but it somehow fit.
“You can still have the life you were meant to live,” Hunter insisted. “You’re still figuring things out and that’s okay. You’re home now. You can take the time you need.”
At that moment, the thing I wanted most was him. I knew without a doubt that I could never tell him that, though. I’d ruined his life once. I couldn’t do it again.
“What is it you need?” I asked. “I mean ... you don’t smile as often as I would like. You need to find some inspiration of your own. And I hate to break it to you, but I don’t think Monica can ever be the source of that inspiration.”
Rather than be offended, he barked out a laugh. “You might be right.” To my surprise, he held out his hand. “Let’s take a walk down memory lane, shall we?” He looked excited at the prospect, which was enough to give me pause.
“You want to hold my hand in the woods. Here?” My voice was unnaturally squeaky.
“I want to remember the good times,” he clarified. “I want to talk about when we were kids ... and all the stupid stuff we used to do down here.”
“Like the time we were making out and I was late for dinner and Grandpa came to find me and my shirt was inside out?”
His eyes filled with such joy at being reminded of the memory that my heart hurt just looking at him. “That would be great,” he agreed. “When we’re finished with that one, we’re also going to talk about what you told me last night.”
I froze, conflicted. “And what did I tell you last night?” Panic licked at my insides as I tried to remember if I’d said anything that could get me in trouble.
“You told me you felt as if someone was watching you behind the restaurant. I don’t like the idea of you wandering around out there if you don’t feel safe. We’re going to talk about self-preservation — because obviously you need lessons — and then we’re going to talk about whatever information you got from Bobby while he was drunk. I saw you and Alice with him, and I think he told you something.”
“He did.” In the aftermath of everything that had happened I’d almost forgotten. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Have an hour of quiet to reminisce? I’m sure.”
I thought about arguing, but I needed the quiet, too. I needed to share in his warmth and revel in the familiarity of his presence. “Okay, but the Bobby story is weird and annoying.”
“I would expect nothing less. I want to hear everything.”
20
Twenty
Hunter insisted on walking me back to my car, and we were still holding hands when we got to the parking lot.
“Well, that was nice,” I said lamely. What was I supposed to say? We’d spent the afternoon holding hands in the woods like we were teenagers again. The only things missing were the fervent kisses and whispers ... and, sadly, I would’ve been up for that, too. The realization made me angry with myself, and I worked overtime to tamp down the emotion. He’d been nothing but a gentleman.
“It was nice,” he agreed, leaning against my car.
“Just like old times.”
“Well, not quite.” He winked and glanced inside my vehicle, which was a mess. I was never the clean sort and that was on full display. “Although this is familiar.”
“There’s no one to clean my car as an adult,” I explained. “I can’t tell you what a disappointment it was when I reached adulthood and figured out I would have to do things like that by myself.”
“Ah. That’s what you missed most, huh?”
Not even close. “Um ... .”
He stared into my eyes for a long moment, the atmosphere between us practically crackling. When he raised his fingers to brush the hair from my face I thought he was going to kiss me. My blood actually rioted at the thought.
Instead, he let loose a sigh and took a step back, releasing my hand in the process. I immediately missed his proximity, which only made me angrier at myself. He had a girlfriend, for crying out loud. I wasn’t the sort of person who went after other people’s boyfriends ... or husbands ... or crushes, for that matter. I wasn’t Alice, who got a charge out of the chase.
“I guess I should be going,” I said finally, swallowing hard. “I didn’t mean to stay down here so long.”
“That makes two of us.” His smile was rueful. “I have some things to check for work.”
“I thought it was your day off.”
“Technically, it is. We’re a small department, though. I work seven days a week most of the time, even if it’s only for an hour here or there.”
“That’s kind of depressing.”
“Really?” He cocked an eyebrow. “Are you telling me you don’t always have your head in possible story ideas?”
My mind was running to schmaltzy romance novels right now. Stop that! I had to get control of myself. I hadn’t felt an overabundance
of hormones like this since I was a teenager. The fact that the same person managed to stir me up in both decades wasn’t lost on me. “That’s different.”
“How?”
“I’m a waitress. I don’t have a single urge to serve you a cup of coffee on my day off.”
“That’s what you’re doing right now,” he corrected. “You’re a writer. You always have been. That’s your real job. You like spinning fantastical stories. That won’t change ... and it shouldn’t. You’re good at what you do.”
The words warmed me even as a sharp pang of regret poked my heart. “I don’t feel good at it.”
“I know. You feel like a failure, even though that’s a stupid reaction.”
“Are you calling me stupid?” I meant it as a joke, but it came out harsher than I intended.
“No. I’m calling you ... sad. Regret is a wasted emotion. You have to look forward. Yes, things didn’t turn out as you thought they would. You can turn it around. As soon as you get out of your head long enough to really think about it, you’re going to do great things. You just need a little faith.”
“You sound like my grandfather.”
“That could be the meanest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
I laughed. “Speaking of that, I need to get going. I have to stop at the store to pick up a few things for that kitten I found. He can’t keep doing his business in an old flower box.”
Hunter looked amused. “I thought you weren’t keeping him.”
“I’m not, but the animal shelter isn’t open on the weekends.”
“I believe it is.”
I faltered. “Oh, well ... Monday will be easier for me.”
He didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push further. “Well, I need to stop at the station. After that, I was thinking I would swing by the restaurant.”
My heartbeat picked up a notch. “Another visit? That’s quick.”
“I want to see if I can find your grandfather.”
Sinfully Delicious Page 19
