25. Hunter
Hunter
S eeing Brody back in his home was comforting, despite the fact that there was a hospital bed set up in the living room, on which he lay. His favorite shows played on an old school television, and on his side table sat some favorite items along with necessary ones, all within reach.
He’d actually stabilized in the last few days.
Lottie had somehow convinced them to let him do home hospice, a nurse coming by multiple times a day to administer medicine and check his vitals.
Lottie had them on call for whenever something inevitably major happened.
It also meant she could go to work knowing her father was comfortable in the place he loved most.
“Two weeks, huh?” Brody said, his voice gruff and far deeper than usual. His body was already beginning to wither. He’d always been a tall, fairly thin guy, but the level of gauntness in his cheeks and eyes was alarming, to say the least.
I nodded. “Yes sir. Everything is just about worked out.”
His gaze turned to the muted rerun of M.A.S.H. playing on his television. “Never thought you’d be the one marrying my daughter.”
I let out a breathy chuckle. “I know. But I’ve changed a lot, Brody, for the better. And she’s the one to thank for that.”
A small grin broke across his pale cheeks. “She’s good at that. Just like her mother.” He coughed once and cleared his throat, adjusting his upper body to find more comfort. “You gonna be taking over for your old man?”
“If all goes to plan, then yes. But that’s mostly because of you.
I wouldn’t know what I was doing if you hadn’t been there to mentor me,” I said, the words a little too raw for how we normally spoke to each other.
But seeing as he was going to be my father-in-law soon, and then, well, I didn’t want to think of what he’d be after that.
“Yeah, I was pretty good at teaching you,” he joked. Another cough, another clearing of the throat. “Can I make something clear to you, Hunter?”
I nodded.
“You better love my daughter until she takes her last breath. And even after.”
My breath caught in my throat. That word hadn’t even crossed my mind, and yet here it was, screaming at me from her father’s mouth.
Of course he’d say that. You’re getting married.
Engaged people are supposed to be in love.
But I couldn’t help feeling like maybe there was something else, something he could see that I couldn’t, something with Lottie.
You can’t think like that.
“I will,” I said.
I wasn’t entirely sure it was a lie.
Brody opened his mouth to speak, but another cough came, then another.
And another. Too many to count, over and over, as if he were suffering from the worst kind of virus.
Phlegm and spittle coated the back of his hand as he struggled to get a breath in.
I handed him a wad of Kleenex, trying to help in some small way.
Quick footsteps echoed through the house as Lottie rushed down the stairs.
“Dad?” she yelped, nearly tripping over herself as she ran to his side.
He kept coughing over and over, each one thicker than the last. She helped him to sit upright and gently leaned him forward, whacking the top of his back with an open palm.
The coughing calmed.
“Jesus, Dad, you’ve got a bell to ring when you need me, use it,” she said, her lips pressed firmly together as she helped him lean back into the raised portion of the bed. She glanced at me, a solemn look in her eyes that said it’s getting worse .
“Sorry, sweet pea,” Brody coughed. “I thought it would go away.”
“I’ll get you some water,” Lottie sighed. She disappeared around the corner into the kitchen, the sound of a cabinet opening and closing filtering through the space.
A key in the lock made me jump, but Brody didn’t seem to care.
I’d forgotten how normal it must feel to him now to have a nurse popping in and out of the blue, even in his own home.
“Heya, Carol,” he called, not bothering to look as a tall woman with brown skin and black hair stepped through the door.
“It’s Sarah, actually,” she said.
Brody’s hand wrapped around my forearm, dragging my attention back to him. “Do me a favor, Hunter,” he said, his voice low enough that Charlotte wouldn’t hear from the next room. “Get Lottie out of here for a bit. Take her mind off things. She’s been all over the place today.”
I narrowed my gaze at him. “You’re not planning on dying while we’re gone, right?”
His laugh was genuine. “No. I’ve still got some fight left in me.”
————
Lottie fought me on it. She didn’t want to go too far after his coughing fit, even with a nurse present. So I’d agreed we could stay on the property as long as we got far enough away to take her mind off of things, if only for a moment.
“This was our stable,” she said, her boots slapping in the mud as she came to a stop in front of an old, dilapidated wooden structure. “We stopped keeping horses about ten years ago after Amy died.”
“Winehouse?”
Her little snort told me she was already beginning to feel better. “No, asshole. Amy was my horse.”
She led me around the back of the stable as she pulled her jacket tighter around her. “This is where I used to play while my parents tended to the horses,” she said.
An old, rusty play set barely stood in the open field. The swing dangled from one chain, the slide rotted and twisted. The monkey bars appeared strong, but the moment my hand touched the wood, termites sprung from it. Maybe not so strong.
“It’s kind of gone to shit now. I think Dad was hoping to fix it up before I had kids so they’d have somewhere to play whenever they came over.”
She stared at the broken pieces of her childhood, her eyes looking through it more than at it as they glassed over.
I wondered how many memories she had of this spot, how many times she’d been out here with both of her parents, then just her father, and then at some point by herself before she just… stopped.
“I know it’s not quite as, uh, grand as your property?—”
“My property is shit,” I said, cutting her off before she could disparage this place any further. “My parent’s place isn’t any better. This, though… it has character, Lottie. Stories. Memories. That’s worth more than any land money can buy.”
Her eyes met mine. I couldn’t read her even if I wanted to. She was caged, hiding behind a wall not too dissimilar from her brick one, but at least I could see through this one. More open this time, like she’d carved a little door into it and slipped me the key.
She started walking again and I followed her in silence as we stepped past the tree line and entered the woods that surrounded her property.
Aspens and maples littered the area, their sticks and leaves covering the ground.
Birds chirped all around us, crows and bluejays and others I couldn’t name.
The cloudy skies above promised rain at some point, but this deep into the foliage, I wasn’t sure it would even reach us.
After a few minutes of walking, the trees and bushes parted into a clearing.
At the very center, an old fire pit barely stood, surrounded by a handful of time-worn massive logs that once served as benches.
Behind it, the mountains were close, the base of them rising just beyond the blowing leaves on the other side.
“We’d camp out here sometimes,” Lottie said, breaking the silence. “When I was kid, Dad would bring out the tent and all the supplies. Occasionally I’d have parties out here with my friends during high school. But mostly, I just came out here to think.”
Her boots crunched in the mixture of gravel and grass as she crossed the clearing toward the fire pit.
“There was one time Dad called the cops because he couldn’t find me anywhere. I didn’t even realize he was worried until a police officer stepped through those bushes right over there,” she chuckled as she pointed. She sat down on one of the log benches and motioned for me to do the same.
I sidled in next to her, keeping a bit of distance. I wasn’t sure where she was at mentally, it was all affecting her, but I didn’t want to push her in any certain direction. Not when she was so emotionally fragile.
But to my surprise, she moved in closer, resting her head on my shoulder and nestling her body into me.
Her fingers dragged down the sleeve of my jacket, intertwining with mine in a move that felt so natural, so effortless.
I wrapped my arm around her and pulled her closer, following her lead, and held her.
I would do what she needed, for as long as she needed.
“Can I ask you to do something for me?” she asked, her head tipping back to meet my eyes.
“Anything.” God, who was I?
“Take my mind off it all.” Her gaze flicked between my lips and my eyes. “Please.”
“Here?”
“Here.”
I leaned down. Kissing her had become so natural it was as if it were ingrained in my body.
Thoughtless, effortless. My mouth glided across hers, settling that unfinished business from days ago, that kiss I’d desperately longed for more of.
She pulled herself into my lap, her hand dropping mine to wrap itself around the back of my neck instead.
“Why do I want you so badly?” she whispered, pressing her forehead to mine as she played with the hem of my shirt.
I didn’t have an answer for her. I’d been wondering the same thing, wondering what this pull was that kept dragging me back to her over and over again.
I couldn’t get past how different this felt, how she wasn’t just another woman that was passing through my life that I’d sleep with twice, feel satisfied and move on.
It was never enough with her. I could never get enough.