A Lovely Obsession: The Complete Debt of Passion Duet

by Coralee June

  Talking it out reduced me to shortened sentences. I felt like a caveman. “Lake arrived and asked for the money back. My mom cried. She cried a lot. I came out of my bedroom. Lake was always nice to me, though he kept away out of respect for your mom.”

  I closed my eyes and opened them. “My mom kissed your dad. She was high as hell and started taking off her clothes, offering him sex in exchange for the two thousand dollars. He tried to push her away. Lake was ready to get out of there.”

  When I opened my eyes, Roe was staring at me. Grounding me. Showering me with wordless support as she clutched me tightly. “Forest showed up. He was so fucking mad. He started hitting Mom. Lake tried to stop it. There was...a gun. I later learned that it was a single-action revolver. They fought over it. Mom was shot in the neck. Then Forest in the stomach. Then…Lake. In the head.”

  It all happened so fast. My childhood brain turned my memories into a flash of sequences, like blurred lights. I couldn’t see it all, but I remembered the outcome. I remembered standing over the three dead bodies. I remembered Lake’s lifeless eyes staring at me as blood flowed from his skull. I kicked Forest’s dead body and cried at Mom’s naked, still form.

  “Oh, Hunter,” Roe cried while nuzzling my neck. I was too shocked to hold her. I didn’t understand. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “Lake’s phone was ringing,” I continued. “Your mom had called. She was in labor. I listened to the voicemail. I think I was in shock. It’s funny how death means nothing to me now.”

  “Don’t say that, Hunter. Of course death means something.”

  “Not to me,” I promised. “I walked to the hospital where you were born. It’s how I met Mack, actually. He helped me find you. I remember staring at you in the nursery. Your mother had no idea Lake was dead. She had no idea what her best friend had done. I vowed to take care of you, Roe. I promised to repay the debt.”

  Emotion clogged my throat. I hadn’t spoken of this in so long, yet the wound still felt fresh. My vision blurred from unshed tears. “Hunter, it’s not your fault,” Roe whispered. “You don’t have to pay for the sins of your parents.”

  I knew she was right. I was reasonable. But trauma didn’t pick and choose obsessions. It just felt right to take care of Roe. Even when I was in foster care. Even when her mother wanted nothing to do with me because I reminded her of my mother. Even when Roe grew up to be a beautiful woman. I couldn’t let go of that debt. I couldn’t let go of what I’d seen. I couldn’t let go of my anger.

  “Your mother feared death because of my parents. Your father died the day you were born because of them, too.”

  “I’m releasing you of your debt, Hunter. It wasn’t your fault. I’m so sorry you’ve convinced yourself that you have to watch me because of something your mother did,” she said.

  Her response wasn’t what I was expecting, but I felt off. Run, I silently urged her. Run because I wasn’t not good enough. Because our past was too tangled. Because my family was the source of all her troubles.

  “I’m here, Hunter,” she whimpered as more tears traveled down her cheeks. “I’m not going anywhere.” She might have forgiven my debt, but there were still sins to atone for. Her compassion and grace left me at a standstill, but I knew what needed to be done. It was only fair that I released her of my obsession.

  ROE

  He held me for a while. I traced lines along his strong forearms while simmering in silence. I reveled in the truth he offered while mourning our shared history. Mom told me that Dad died in a car accident while rushing to the hospital. I’d grown up thinking it was just a cruel twist of fate. I didn’t realize her best friend had a hand in killing him. No wonder she secluded herself from the world. She couldn’t trust anyone. I felt a new layer of pity for my mother.

  Hunter’s obsession made sense. He had a toxic childhood. Although he didn’t explain much, I filled in the blanks. In the photo sent to me by Rosemary, he’d looked starved to death. He’d been abused, neglected, and forgotten. I hated my mother for not checking on him after Dad’s death. I knew my mother didn’t have the headspace to obsessively care about anyone else but the two of us, but it still made me sad to think that Hunter ended up in foster care. He was all alone. My heart desperately hurt for him.

  Hunter wanted to right the wrongs of his parents and feel some control over his life. Maybe that’s why he was an assassin. It was kill or be killed in his world, and he’d seen firsthand how quickly he needed to pull the trigger to save himself.

  My heart hurt for my father. I wished he’d never gone to their house. I wished he’d let the money be. There was no debt worth the cost of a life, in my opinion. It was just money. It was just a mistake. I was furious with his selfish mother.

  “You know,” I began while sitting up. I’d been lying in his lap, the two of us sitting in silence on his leather couch as we absorbed everything. “You’ve already paid back the two grand, Hunter. I mean, I’m sure Mack isn’t cheap.”

  Hunter breathed in. “It’s not just the money I owe,” he explained while running a hand through his hair. “In many ways, Lake was both the reason my mom was so fucked up and the reason I was finally free,” he explained. “He was the first guy she really loved. I was just the product of a one-night stand; she didn’t even know his name. But Lake? She would watch him. Follow him home. Mom worked at a flower shop with Mrs. Palmer. They both met Lake at the same time. Both flirted. Both asked for his number. They were all friends for a while, but he always loved your mom.” He cracked his knuckles before spitting out the last of his admission. “Mom got off the wagon when they started dating.”

  I clenched my teeth. It wasn’t my dad’s fault he didn’t like her. No one should blame him in this scenario. I’d never say it out loud, but it sounded like Hunter’s mother was just a weak soul looking for an excuse for substance abuse.

  “I know what you’re thinking, and you’re right. But he was a trigger. She dated Forest to make him jealous. Everything started with Lake, but it ended with him, too.”

  “That's why you hated me,” I whispered.

  “You look a little like him,” Hunter admitted. “Same honey eyes. Same brown hair and freckles. I guess I was scared to like you because I saw what that sort of infatuation did to my mother. She was obsessed, and I…”

  He was my stalker. He followed in the same footsteps as his mother.

  I stared at Hunter. At the scar over his right eyebrow, at the dirty blond hair curling at the ends. I stared at the veins in his hands. I stared at the tight shirt stretched across his chest. “I’ve always been scared to love, because I saw what the fear of loss did to my mother,” I admitted with a shrug. “But we aren’t our parents, Hunter. We can start over. We can live our lives…” I was nervous to finish that sentence. The word together hovered behind my teeth. “We don’t have to tie ourselves to the past.”

  Hunter’s eyes grew wide with fear as if my suggestion were the last thing on earth he could possibly want.

  “No. This is over, Roe,” Hunter said while standing up. He looked around the room, and I watched him take in every single detail, like he was committing his safe space to memory. What did he mean this was over?

  “What?” Hunter grabbed a duffel bag from the corner and started putting guns and various supplies in it. “Where are you going?” I asked, my voice turning shrill.

  “I’m leaving,” he replied. His voice was short and curt. I didn’t understand. I was getting emotional whiplash and hated the feel of the sting in my soul. “I don’t want this for you, Roe.”

  “What? Don’t I get a say in this?”

  Hunter stared at the photo of his mother and picked up the frame. I watched him drag his thumb across the glass for a slow, steady moment. His face twisted up in pain as he stared at the woman responsible for all of this, and then in one defining moment, he tossed it in the trash. “Last night, you almost died because of what I’m involved in. If I’m in your life, I’m going to hold you back,” he explai
ned.

  “No,” I stammered. “It doesn’t have to be this way. We’re just starting to understand one another.” Now that I knew of our shared past, I wasn’t willing to let him go.

  Hunter stopped and turned around to face me. “You said you never wanted to be chained again. I’m not healthy for you, Roe. This thing between us can’t go on. It’s wrong. I want you to live your life. Experience things. Go to Dallas.”

  “It doesn’t feel wrong,” I sobbed. “It feels like it could be very right. We just started, Hunter.” My chest constricted with pain. So this was what it felt like. This was the sort of loss my mother was trying to avoid. This was the all-encompassing pain she refused to let dampen her soul. But I wasn’t losing Hunter to death, I was losing him by choice. His choice.

  Hunter put his duffel down and stalked over to me. As he cupped my cheek, I peered up at his hardened expression, and a steady trail of tears streamed down my cheeks. “You can’t do this,” I croaked.

  “You’re releasing me of my debt. I’m releasing you of me.”

  I stood up while protesting. “But I don’t want—”

  He slammed his lips to mine. I sobbed against him, my skin wet from tears. Our kiss tasted like salt and sadness. I savored the taste of him as he wrapped his arms around me. Neither of us wanted it to end. I curled my body against him. I clawed at his back. I groaned and bit, doing everything I could to keep him with me.

  “Don’t do this,” I pleaded as he ripped off his shirt.

  He refused to answer my pleas. I was sure I lacked sex appeal. My skin was probably blotchy with emotions. My lips were dry. My hair a mess of tangles as he ran his hand through them. Within seconds, we were both naked, and I allowed myself to hope. Maybe I could convince him to stay. Maybe we could figure this out. His personality made sense. Hurt people hurt people, and Hunter was a boy that never let his damage breathe. My empathy had bloomed into full-blown love, and now that I had Hunter, I wasn’t willing to let him go.

  “Stay,” I whispered when he shoved my panties off.

  “Don’t leave,” I begged when his cock sprung free from his boxers.

  “Please don’t go,” I whimpered when he slid slowly inside of me, stretching me, filling me up with his thick cock as I mourned into his neck.

  I breathed in the smell of his woodsy skin as he thrust. I committed the scent to memory. I wasn’t disillusioned. I knew what kind of sex this was. I knew that he wasn’t promising me forever, he was saying goodbye.

  “Come for me, Roe,” he grunted. I refused to give in to the sensations flooding me. Because I knew, the moment I did, he would leave. I wanted this to last.

  “Look me in the eye,” I demanded while reaching up to grab his chin and turn his attention toward my face. Hunter closed his eyes to avoid the pain and sadness leaking from my eyes. “Look at me, Hunter,” I pleaded. “It’s the least you could do.”

  Hunter slid out of me and grabbed my hips. In one swift move, he flipped me over until my cheek was on the cool concrete floor. He yanked my ass toward him and slammed into me. I twisted to look back at him, and he pulled my hair. The stinging yank made me moan.

  “Please look at me,” I begged. “Don’t do it like this. Don’t break me,” I begged. I wanted slow and sensual. I wanted his tenderness. I wanted to feel the invasion of his cock fill me up so I could remember him when he was gone.

  “This is why I have to leave, Roe,” he rasped. His hands dug into my hips as my body thrashed against the concrete. Each thrust had my cheek grinding into the floor. I could already feel bruises forming from his demanding touches. “I’ll only hurt you.”

  Hunter fucked me relentlessly. Everything was so devastatingly painful. His arduous movements were both a punishment and a lesson. I took every last bit of his relentless, challenging pushes. My heart shriveled up and died on the floor. I broke before him. He came hard and fast, then pulled out, leaving me nothing but a puddle at his feet.

  “You’ll come back,” I croaked as his cum spilled out of my throbbing, unsatisfied cunt. I refused to come for him. I needed this moment.

  “I won’t,” he promised.

  “I’ll find you,” I whispered.

  “You won’t.”

  I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing. In and out. In and out. I was naked on the floor, dripping in sweat, cum, and tears. I was completely broken. Damaged. Breathe, breathe, breathe.

  A prick pierced my arm, and I shot open my eyes. Thick liquid pushed through a syringe and filled my veins. “No,” I cried out as Hunter pulled the needle out. He stared at me with soft, sad eyes full of determination.

  I felt the exhaustion hit me. I didn’t cry or scream or beg. That was what he wanted, after all. I didn’t whisper goodbye. I didn’t reach out to hold him as my body grew too heavy. I simply exhaled a promise to myself.

  I will find you, Hunter Hammond.

  I will find you.

  A Lovely Obsession

  A lovely obsession.

  I’m caught between mourning you and thanking you.

  Death tastes like sour milk from my mother’s breast.

  I taught you how to speak,

  how to form truths with the curve of your mouth.

  Honesty sounds like footsteps walking away.

  I became the hunter and the prey.

  I’ll watch you. I’ll find you.

  Hope smells like rosewood and rain.

  You traded your sanity for a petty debt.

  I traded my damage for a full set of lungs.

  Redemption feels like trading words for your heart.

  I’ll still spill poetry at your feet.

  And you’ll exclaim,

  What a lovely confession.

  My voice trembled as I read my poem to the crowded auditorium. Mrs. Sellars sat in the front row, beaming up at me with pride. I looked out over the crowd, my eyes grazing over Mack, who was sitting in the back row. There, in the corner, a shadow flickered in and out of view. I held my breath.

  No, it wasn’t him. It was never him. I had waited and waited and waited. I cried. I screamed at Mack. I didn’t understand how he could just leave me like that.

  Mack, Joel, and Nicole clapped loudly for me as I exited the stage and made my way to the lobby. I didn’t want to sit and listen to the others read their poems. I was too nervous.

  It felt good to make it here, but there was one person missing. The success of making it this far in the competition felt hollow. I hadn’t felt Hunter’s eyes on me in weeks.

  “Excuse me, miss?” a voice called from behind. I spun around and faced a flushed man with a rounded stomach as he stumbled toward me. “Are you Roe? Roe Palmer?”

  I nodded. “That’s me.”

  “I have a delivery for you. Please sign here.” Holding up his clipboard, the man waited eagerly as I took the pen from his grasp and signed my name. “Thank you!” he said before handing me a box and disappearing.

  I lifted the lid and gasped at the single rose resting on a pile of tissue paper. There was a gold card perched beside it. I picked it up to read the printed words typed there.

  Good Job, Pretty Debt.

  Sometimes, I wondered if he was real.

  Our time together was short, but it left a lasting impression on me.

  I’m older now. Wiser, too.

  Five years have passed, and I still can’t get him off my mind.

  Hunter was cruel, angry, and protective.

  I learned his secrets, and he fled.

  The day he left, I vowed to find him.

  I guess now I have an obsession of my own:

  Track down Hunter Hammond and make him mine.

  ROE

  I fucking loved throwing punches. A cool bead of sweat dripped down my chest and onto my bare abs. My muscles ached with each swing of my fist. I had been jabbing at this bag for hours. Throbbing pain shot down my spine and warmed my shoulders. Every tendon was burning from use. I didn’t even know what time it was, but I knew it was late e
nough for club-goers to drunkenly saunter by on the sidewalk outside. Downtown Denver was alive and thriving.

  I wasn’t just working out, I was feeding my demons.

  The twenty-four-hour gym I frequented smelled like sweat and body odor. Vintage motivational posters lined the walls in bright orange frames, and the various workout equipment was worn down from use. The gym was old and small and probably a health hazard, but it was all I could afford on my salary. Working at a local bookstore was fun and allowed me the freedom to write on the job, but it didn’t pay very well.

  A couple of off-duty night-shift cops I regularly saw here were lifting weights in the corner. They occasionally glanced my way when I grunted, but I didn’t care. I had frustrations to work through.

  I bounced on my feet. My shins burned. My forearms ached. My jaw throbbed from how hard I was clenching my teeth. I welcomed the pain. Pain made people change.

  I started boxing lessons six months after Hunter left. It seemed like the only way to get the anger out. And I had a lot of anger. Tonight, I had more anger than usual. I woke up this morning with fury flowing through my veins. I knew what day it was the moment my eyes opened. I had been dreading it all year. I had a lot of reasons to hate October fourth.

  It was the day my father died while trying to collect a debt.

  It was the day I found my mother’s dead body.

  It was the day I first spoke to Hunter Hammond.

  Five years had passed since he fucked me on the floor of his cabin, drugged me, and disappeared. In many ways, I moved on. I got stronger. Smarter. Independent. I went to community college, then finished my English degree online with University of Phoenix while working at a bookshop—without taking a single dime of Hunter Hammond’s money. He’d left me quite a bit of cash laced with his guilt when he vanished, but I wanted nothing to do with it. It still sat in the bank, untouched.