There’s a little city park, with a circle of grass and a playground in the center. Hunter stands behind the swingset, pushing Isaac on the swing.
My heart leaps into my throat. I haven’t seen Hunter in weeks. I’ve thought about calling him, but every time I reach for my phone, I stop. He wants something I can’t give him, and I figure it’s worse to let it drag out. We both need to move on.
But seeing him standing there, his strong arms gently pushing Isaac each time he swings back and forth, I can’t get in my car.
I watch them for a few minutes. I don’t think he realizes I’m here. He might have noticed my car, but his attention is entirely focused on Isaac. He walks around in front of him, saying something I can’t hear—I think he’s showing Isaac how to move his legs to swing by himself. Isaac slows down, but pumps his legs back and forth and starts going higher. Hunter claps, a wide smile on his face.
God, he’s beautiful. He’s thick, his body knotted with muscle, his arms covered with tattoos. He looks hard. Tough. He looks like a Marine.
But when he smiles at that little boy, it takes my breath away.
Before I realize what I’m doing, I cross the street and walk toward them. Hunter sees me and his brow furrows. The smile he gives me looks purposeful—genuine, but forced.
“Hi,” he says.
“Hi.” Shit, now I’m not sure what to say. “Sorry, I just saw you guys over here and thought I’d come say hello.”
“Hi, Emma!” Isaac says, his voice bright. “I can swing by myself now.”
“Wow, look at you,” I say. “That’s awesome.”
I glance at Hunter, but he stands still, facing Isaac. We lapse into silence and I start to regret coming over. He clearly doesn’t want to talk to me. I open my mouth to say goodbye, when he finally speaks.
“I left because I thought I had to,” Hunter says.
My breath catches. “What?”
“After high school,” he says. “I thought I had to protect you.”
“From what?”
“From me.”
I look over at him. He’s standing with his hands in his pockets. Sunglasses cover his eyes, so I can’t read his expression.
“What are you talking about?” I ask.
“I was an angry kid,” he says. “You know that. What you don’t know is that I had more than a bad temper. When I got mad, I imagined doing things to people. Terrible things. The things I’d see were so vivid—stronger than real memories. Sometimes I’d wake up in the morning and have to ask myself whether I shot our math teacher in the face the day before, because I could see it so clearly.”
I’m not sure what to say, so I let him keep talking. Isaac leans back and forth, taking the swing higher.
“I don’t know where it came from,” he continues. “Maybe it was my dad leaving, or my mother being so busy I never saw her. It got worse when she died. The Jacobsens did what they could for me, and sports gave me an outlet. But I never talked about what I saw in my head. By the time you and I were together, I was pretty controlled. I didn’t get in as many fights and I kept things locked down most of the time. But I was starting to wonder if I was some sort of monster, deep down. I still saw things in my mind, and I knew there was something in me that was capable of doing them. A part of me wanted to do them. I wanted to unleash all that rage and just … I wanted to kill someone.”
My stomach turns over.
“Not long before graduation, you and I got in an argument,” he says. “I don’t know what it was about. Probably something stupid. I was furious, and out of nowhere, I could see it all.” He pauses and takes a deep breath. “I saw what I could do to you. The bruises on your face from where I hit you. Your lip split open. Blood dripping down your chin. I could feel your bones breaking against my hand. It was so goddamn real.”
I put a hand to my mouth and look at Hunter out of the corner of my eye. He’s looking straight ahead.
“I had never seen you that way before,” he says. “Never. You were the only one. The only one I couldn’t imagine hurting. So when I did see it, I realized you weren’t safe from me. And if you weren’t safe, no one was. Not my family, not my friends, no one. If I stayed, I was afraid one day I’d do it. I’d act on the things I saw in my head. I couldn’t let that happen.”
I swallow hard. “You never would have hurt me.”
“No?” he asks. “I’ve done some of the things I used to imagine. To real people.”
He’s quiet for a moment and I try to process what he’s telling me.
“In the Marines, I finally felt like I wasn’t a monster,” he says. “Maybe that was why I had all that rage burning inside me. I could use it. I was good at what I did. More than good. I rose fast. I carried out missions in some of the most dangerous places on earth. I was efficient, and very effective. Everything I did, every confirmed kill, told me I made the right call. I was where I was supposed to be. I was made for it. I could serve my country, and protect the people I loved. And you were all safe from me.”
“Then why did you come back?” I ask, my voice quiet.
“Somewhere along the way, the rage went away,” he says. “I stopped seeing red when I got riled up. I stopped imagining hurting people. I stopped feeling so angry all the time. I don’t know if I burned it all away or what. By the time I got in that accident, I could already see what was coming. And when I woke up, I knew it was time. I knew I could come home.”
He takes a deep breath. “I don’t regret leaving, Emma. I have to be honest about that. Maybe I never would have hurt you. But maybe I would have. Either way, serving in the Marines was what I needed. It shaped me into the man I am now, and I can’t regret that. I’m at peace, and I wasn’t before. But I do regret the way I left.”
“Why did you do it?” I ask. “Why did you leave without telling me?”
“I was afraid,” he says. “If I looked at you and told you I was leaving, and I couldn’t let you follow, you would have tried to stop me. I didn’t think I was strong enough to go if I faced you first. I was a scared kid. I hurt a lot of people that I love, and I’ll always be sorry for that. Especially because of how badly I hurt you.”
He stops and we stand in silence for a while, watching Isaac swing.
“I’ve never told anyone about the things I used to see,” he says, his voice quiet. “This is the first time I’ve said it out loud. I even saw a therapist for a while, and I couldn’t bring myself to tell her.” He pauses again, taking a deep breath. “I didn’t tell you why I left because I didn’t want you to know this about me. You’re going to look at me differently, and I wanted to avoid that. But you deserve the truth. And right now, I need you to know something. That rage and violence that was inside me is gone. No one needs to be afraid of me. Especially you.”
“I’m not afraid of you,” I say. “I never was.”
“Yes, you are,” he says. “You’re afraid I’ll leave you again. But I think—more than that—you’re afraid I won’t. You’ve been torn apart, but you’re holding the shreds of yourself in such a tight grip that you won’t let anyone else help stitch you back together.”
I cross my arms and look away. I’m spared having to answer by Isaac, who jumps off the swing and comes barreling into Hunter’s legs.
“I’m hungry,” he says. “Can we get a snack?”
Hunter ruffles his hair. “Sure, bud. Why don’t you say goodbye to Emma?”
He smiles. “Can you come with us, Emma?”
I swallow hard. “No, I’m sorry, I can’t.”
“Okay,” he says. “Did you know I’m in kindergarten?”
I can’t help but laugh. “Yes, you are. You’re a big boy, now, aren’t you?”
“Yep,” he says.
He steps closer to me and opens his arms. “Bye, Emma.”
I crouch down and he hugs me tight around the neck. Tears burn my eyes as I hug him back. “Bye, buddy.”
I stand and bite the inside of my lip so I won’t cry.
&n
bsp; Hunter takes off his sunglasses and meets my eyes. “Bye, Emma. It was good to see you.”
He picks up Isaac, and I watch them walk toward Hunter’s truck.
I cross the street and get in my car. I lean my head back against the seat, my mind reeling. All this time, I wanted to understand why. Why did he leave the way he did? Why did he disappear?
I always thought it was because of me.
I blamed myself. I must have been too clingy. Too needy. We lived in a small town, and he felt trapped here with me. So he took off.
After all, he left a note for his parents. Me? Nothing. Not a word. So it had to have been my fault.
But it wasn’t because of me. It was because he was afraid of hurting me. And I know he’s telling the truth.
I could hear it in his voice, but more than that, I remember. I remember the argument he was talking about, and I remember how he looked at me that day. Something had changed. I saw fear in his eyes. I always thought he was afraid he’d gotten himself in too deep, that our relationship was too much for him at such a young age and he didn’t know what to do to get out.
He wasn’t afraid of us. He was afraid of himself.
His words echo in my memory. The bruises on your face from where I hit you. Your lip split open. Blood dripping down your chin. Could he have done that to me? Was he actually dangerous?
It’s hard to know. I was never afraid of him in high school. Other people were, a few with good reason—but he was always gentle with me, even when we argued.
But he believed he was dangerous. In his mind, he was capable of hurting me. And he didn’t want me to know. He didn’t want me to be afraid.
I am afraid. He’s absolutely right. Now I’m the one who’s scared. He sees right through me. But I’m not afraid he’ll be violent with me. I’m afraid of letting him in, afraid of losing myself and being in a position where someone can hurt me again.
As I drive home I realize that if I could let anyone in again, it would be him. It would be Hunter. He’s already a part of me. He always was. That’s why it was so hard when he left. He took a piece of me with him and he still has it. If I take the risk, I might feel whole again.
But I honestly don’t know if I can.
26
Emma
I stare into the mostly-empty fridge, my stomach growling. Gabe almost never cooks at home, and neither of us have been to the store in a while. There are a handful of ingredients, but my choices are pretty limited, and I don’t really feel like cooking. I have a standing invite to come up to Gabe’s restaurant and haven’t taken him up on it in a while, but tonight, a gourmet meal sounds pretty damn good. I throw on my coat, grab my purse, and head out the door.
My new apartment won’t be ready for another week. I haven’t admitted it to Gabe, but I’m having second thoughts. I even stopped by Hunter’s house earlier today, thinking I might talk to him. What I would say, I still don’t know. He’s like a magnet, constantly tugging at me. I feel his pull wherever I go. But he wasn’t home. I decided I shouldn’t have stopped there anyway, and left.
The drive to Gabe’s restaurant takes about twenty minutes. The parking lot is almost empty. It’s late enough in the year that the tourist season has wound down, and the restaurant isn’t very busy. I park and head inside.
A young man dressed in a black button down shirt leans against the host station, glancing up when I walk in. I think for a second, trying to remember his name.
“Good evening,” he says.
“Samuel?” I ask.
“Yep,” he says. “Emma, right? Are you here to see Gabriel, or do you want a table?”
“Both, I suppose.”
“No problem,” he says, and leads me to a table by the window.
There are a couple other patrons, but they’re on the other side of the restaurant. Candles flicker in the center of the tables, reflecting off the wine glasses set at each place. Samuel takes my coat and pulls out my chair.
“I’ll tell Gabriel you’re here,” he says.
“Thanks.”
He didn’t leave me with a menu, but they never do. Gabe always serves me what he feels like cooking when I stop by. I never complain. I have yet to taste something that isn’t incredible.
I sit for a while, watching the waves crash against the sand. The restaurant is built on a hill overlooking the beach, and a spotlight illuminates the water at night.
“Hey, Emma.”
I look over to find Clover approaching my table, two plates in her hands. She’s dressed in a chef’s coat with her name stitched on the front, and her curly hair is pulled back.
“Hi,” I say.
“Mind if I join you?”
“No, not at all.”
“Thanks.” She smiles, setting the plates on the table, and takes the seat across from me. “It’s really slow tonight. Gabriel just has me testing out new recipes. He said you were here, so I figured I’d come say hi.”
“Did you make this?” I ask, gesturing to my plate. It’s salmon with a side of roasted root vegetables.
“I did,” she says, her voice bright. “It’s just something I was trying out. If you hate it, I can get you something else.”
I cut into the salmon and take a bite. It’s heavenly. “No, this is wonderful.”
“Yeah?” she asks. “Good. I’m glad you were here. I like being able to try things out on someone other than Gabriel.”
“It’s amazing,” I say.
We both start eating and a few minutes pass in silence.
“So, do you want to talk about him?” she asks.
“Hunter?” I ask. “There’s not much to talk about.”
“It’s okay if you don’t,” she says, and takes another bite. “He misses you, though.”
I’m not sure what to say, so I keep eating.
“Isaac is the best, isn’t he?” she asks. “Maureen’s going nuts over the whole thing. She and Ed are watching Isaac, since Hunter had to go out of town. She’s going to stuff that kid so full of sugar.”
I shouldn’t ask, but I can’t help it. “Hunter’s out of town?”
“Yeah, he had to go see some big shot client on the east coast or something,” she says. “I don’t know, he never tells anyone what he’s really doing. I guess he can’t, which is so freaking cool. He’s such a badass. Anyway, he left this afternoon. Cody and I are taking Isaac tomorrow night. I can’t wait. It’s the perfect excuse to watch kid movies.”
My shoulders tense up at the thought of Hunter leaving town. Logically, I know it’s just a business trip. He told me he has to go out of town occasionally. But knowing he left leaves me feeling unsettled.
Clover’s phone buzzes and she pulls it out of a pocket. “Sorry, it’s Cody. Do you mind if I take this really quick?”
“No, not at all,” I say.
“Hey, sexy man,” she says with a smile, but instantly her face drops. “What? Oh my god.” Her eyes widen with alarm. “Is he okay? Yeah, I can leave. I’ll meet you there.” She hangs up and stands. “Isaac got hurt and they’re at the hospital. I’m sorry, I have to go.”
My breath catches in my throat and I stand up. “I’ll come.”
We rush out to Clover’s car and I get in, my heart racing. Cody’s a doctor; if they’re taking Isaac to the hospital, it must be something he can’t handle at his clinic. “Did Cody say what happened?”
Clover pulls out onto the highway. “No, but he sounded like he was in a hurry.”
I clutch my purse and stare out the window while Clover drives. A million scenarios run through my mind, each one worse than the last. He fell and cut his head open. He broke his leg. What if it’s more serious than that? He must be so scared, especially because Hunter isn’t here.
We get to the hospital and Clover checks her phone. “He’s in the children’s ward.”
Inside, we head for the elevators. The children’s ward is on the third floor, and the stupid elevator will not move fast enough. I tap my foot and chew on my lower l
ip. I think about calling Hunter, but I’m sure someone already did.
The elevator doors open and Clover rushes up to a nurse’s station. “We’re looking for Isaac Lynch.”
“Room three-ten,” the nurse says, pointing down the hall to the left.
We find the room, but it’s empty.
“What the hell?” Clover says. She pokes her head back into the hallway. “Excuse me? We’re missing a kid over here.”
A guy in blue scrubs stops. “Can I help you?”
I step forward. “We’re looking for a patient, Isaac Lynch. We were told he was in this room.”
The nurse turns and consults a white board. “Looks like he was taken in for surgery.”
“Surgery!” Clover says.
“Do you know where the rest of his family is?” I ask.
“Probably the surgical waiting room,” he says. “I can show you.”
The nurse leads us down a hallway and through a set of double doors. We round a corner and find the whole Jacobsen family: Ed and Maureen, Ryan and Nicole, and Cody. Cody walks forward and hugs Clover.
“What happened?” I ask.
“He fell down the stairs,” Cody says. His voice is calm, but I can see the concern in his eyes. “Compound fracture of both the radius and ulna, and a dislocated elbow. Essentially, he snapped his forearm half. He also has a gash on his forehead that will need stitches.”
“Oh my god,” I say. “He’s in surgery already?”
Cody nods. “I called a friend of mine. He’s the best pediatric surgeon I know. He came right down.”
I put a hand to my chest. I’m so overwhelmed, I don’t know what to do. “How long will he be in surgery?”
“We should be able to see him in a couple hours,” Cody says.
My eyes burn with tears. “He must have been terrified.”
“He was a tough little guy,” Cody says. “For as much pain as he must have been in, he handled it really well. We made sure he didn’t get a good look at his arm. It was pretty bad.”
Cody puts his arm around Clover and he leads her to a seat near his parents. Ed sits next to Maureen, his hand on her shoulder while she clasps her hands in her lap. Her face is lined with worry. Ryan paces up and down, his hands in his pockets, and Nicole sits nearby.
Operation Get Her Back Page 16
