63. CHARLOTTE
63
I t’s weird how my emotions can go from full contentment to fuming within a heartbeat. But to be honest, it doesn’t even surprise me. This is Hunter’s biggest talent. Making me feel happy one second and completely incredulous the next.
“This is what you fucking do!” I fume, and his brown eyes fill with guilt. “You make me cross the line and then you push me away!”
“Do you want me to kiss you?” His lips spread in a grim line. “Because I fucking will!” He takes a few steps forward, enough to let the V of his hips appear from below the water. My breath falters, suddenly aware of the fact that I’m still naked.
“No! That’s not the point!” I quickly turn around, stomping onto the cobblestone.
“Then what is the point?!”
I pick up a towel, covering myself up with it, then ignore him strolling closer, butt naked, with an attitude as if he’s fully dressed. I hate him. I hate him and I hate even more how fucking good he looks with water dripping down his skin.
Cocky son of a bitch.
“The point is that you’re an asshole.”
He scoffs. “Gee, Charls. Original. Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Argh, you piss me off so much!”
“I know that!” He yanks the other towel from the ground, rubbing it over his wet hair, not even pretending to rush to cover up his goddamn junk.
“Then stop pissing me off!”
“I don’t know how!” His motions stop, a pained expression hitting me like a ton of bricks as his voice softens. “Tell me why you're mad at me.”
Grunting and growling, I fumble with the towel around my lady parts, trying to put my underwear back on. “You wanna know why I’m mad?” I shout. “I’m mad because my world turned pitch black, and you were gone! I’m mad because you stir up all these old feelings. I told you last year I was done! It was over! But here you are, confusing the fuck out of me. Again! You’re like this old dog who never loses his tricks.”
“Better be a fucking Bull Mastif then,” he mumbles, pulling his boxers over his hips.
“Hunter!”
“I’m kidding! Sorry!” Our gazes stay locked, both filled with fire. My attention drops when he pulls his teeth between his lips, then whispers, “I fucking hate how I broke your heart.”
“See, I don’t believe you anymore.” I point my finger at him. “ You did that. Once upon a time, I’d trust you with my life. Now I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you.” I continue putting on the rest of my clothes, too angry to look at him.
“I know I did. But I’m going to try to fix it for the rest of my life.”
“Why?!” I snap my gaze back up.
“Because I love you!”
For at least five seconds, my gaze travels up and down his haunted expression. Pebbles coat my skin, and I’m pretty sure it’s not from the water. Disbelief has my heart stuttering as I shake my head, putting on my shoes .
“No. No . You don’t get to tell me that! You don’t say those words! You said them to her, but you refused to say them to me! You can’t say them now like suddenly they mean something!”
“I never said them to her. I never denied it, but I never flat out told her I loved her either.” He pulls his shirt over his head, then runs a hand through his dampened hair. “I couldn’t. Because I didn’t. I lo—” I cut him off before he can repeat it again.
“No. No, I don't want to hear it. It took me six months to function, Hunter. I’m finally alright. You can’t fuck up my life again. I won’t let you.” I bravely let out the words, but sadness fogs my eyes, out of my control. My throat hurts from trying to hold back my rampaging emotions as I get up, pinching the bridge of my nose. Good luck there.
“Babe.”
I lift up my gaze. “You weren’t there.” The worst week of my life, and he wasn’t there for me. He was supposed to be my friend. “She died and I needed you. And you weren’t there. Every single time you didn’t answer your phone, I fell deeper and deeper into my sadness. You can’t undo that.”
“I know.” The light goes out in his eyes, simmering with regret, but it all means jack shit right now.
“You missed the funeral.”
“I know.”
“She loved you, you know.” Despite his asshole behavior, my mama loved him like a son. Sometimes it was frustrating, especially the moments I wanted to strangle him, but I couldn’t blame her either.
“I know.” Silence grows between us, then I catch movement in his lips. “I-”
“No,” I interrupt. “I don’t want to hear it.” I don’t want an explanation. I don’t want an apology. I’m not ready for it.
“Okay. What do you want?”
“Take me home. ”
Hurt flashes in his hazel-brown eyes, but finally, he gives me a curt nod, then puts on the rest of his clothes.
The drive back into town is silent. Awkward. But at this point, I’m too tired to care. A few moments my thoughts drift to where my eyes well up, but I manage to keep the tears at bay, pushing them away with the anger still bubbling inside me.
I can’t pretend he didn’t break something between us, and frankly, I don’t want to anymore.
A while later, he parks in my driveway. The house looks exactly the same as it did seven years ago. White with blue windows and rose bushes wrapped around the porch. A gnome that I broke playing in the yard when I was eight. It’s home, but even though the exterior hasn't changed, the feeling I have looking at it has changed all the more. I know that when I walk over that threshold, emptiness will wait for me, and for the first time since Mama died, I don’t want to go in.
But I know I have to.
I step out of the truck and catch Hunter doing the same before I can shut the door.
“Stay,” I order.
He turns around, half his body still inside the truck. “Charls, I–”
“No, Hunter.” I’m adamant about this. The last thing I need is him giving me even more to think about than I already have. “I meant what I said. I don’t want to hear it. Maybe someday. But not now. Not today. I’ve had a very shitty week, and you keep pissing me off, and I just can’t deal.”
“Okay,” he agrees, then sits back in his seat, closing the door. “What can I do?”
“Leave me alone.” The expression that washes his face tells me that’s the last thing he wants to do, but it’s what I want. It’s what I need . “Please. ”
I don’t wait for his reply, but close the door, holding his gaze. Tormented eyes stare back at me through the window before his chest moves up, sucking in a deep breath. Never deviating his eyes from mine, he backs up his truck. I wait until he turns the vehicle back on the road, then drives off, and I finally let myself collapse.
My knees fall to the gray concrete, my tears slipping out one by one. The pain that's pulsing through my veins demolishes all the restraint I had, and for a few minutes, I just sit there, letting myself drown in my own sorrow, as if an unexpected rain cloud has broken above my head.
I wish it was all different. I wish I could forgive him and we could pick up where we left off, but even if I could, where would that put us? Back to being friends once a week? Where we’d catch up and he’d start dating some other Laurie? Or would we continue what we had before he moved to LA? In my head, neither is an option, because number one I’d never want to relive and the other isn’t possible… because we aren’t teenagers anymore. He might be the same old dog I accused him to be, only richer and famous, but I’m definitely not the same.
But this time he said I love you.
The thought jams into my head like it’s not my own. I can hardly believe he actually said that those eight letters. I’d like to tell myself I misheard, that it was my imagination, but his haunted eyes seared through mine, selling me every word with an urgency I’ve been waiting for since the first day we’ve met. He told me he loved me, goddammit.
Fuck him, for knowing exactly what to say at the right moment.
Fuck him, for messing with my head again.
Fuck him, for finally doing it in the right way.
And fuck me for actually wanting to believe him .
Rubbing away the moisture from my jaw with the back of my hand, I blink the rest of my tears away when my eyes land on the little piece of plastic in the driveway. Still sniffling, I get up to take a few steps, then pick up the black credit card that sure as hell isn’t mine. But I know whose it is.
It must’ve fallen out of his pocket when he opened the door and the good girl in me is already fishing for her phone from the back of her shorts to give him a call.
But when I see his name on my screen, I hesitate, the credit card in hand.
I’m not vindictive.
I’m really not.
But Hunter doesn’t play fair, so why should I?