Hunter
“Dad! Dad! Dad!”
Watching my daughter race towards me, a bright smile on her face, is something that I’ll never get tired of.
Every day she looks more and more like her father, pieces of Xavier that I’ll never be able to escape from.
It only makes me love her more. I raised her alone, with the help of my brother, and a lot of her personality comes from us, but there are other parts that are one hundred percent Xavier.
DNA can’t be denied, and in that regard, she belongs to him, not me.
She crashes into me at high speed, rattling my knees even as she wraps her arms around my waist and beams up at me. “Can I have a lizard?” she asks immediately. She’s giving me that look, the one that says I’ve already lost this battle before it ever began.
“A lizard?” Of all the pets she’s asked for over the years, the only reptile she’s ever mentioned is a snake—and the only person who thinks that’s a good idea is Greer, which means it’s an absolutely terrible idea. “Where did that come from?”
“We got a new class pet! He’s a braided dragon lizard.”
While that certainly conjures some interesting images… “I think you mean a bearded dragon lizard.”
“That’s what I said!”
Tugging on her own braid, I turn her towards where her friends are gathered. “Go say goodbye to your friends, I need to speak to Mr. Snow.”
Olivia bobs her head, drags off her backpack, and shoves it at me before dashing off.
The zip is untied, and her drink bottle, books, and half-crumpled paper is at risk of falling out.
Slinging it over my shoulder—after securing everything inside—I make my way through the crowds of children, who seem to be loitering despite the fact the school day is over.
Matthew Snow is standing near one of the open doors that lead inside the large primary school.
Three—not single—mothers are gathered around him, looking at him like he hung the moon.
I can’t blame them; he’s someone that you give a second look to when walking down the street.
Thick brown hair that’s taken over half of his forehead, light-blue eyes, square jaw with barely there stubble, and a boyish charm to his smile, with dimples, of course.
He’s nice to look at, and that’s all he’ll ever be.
When he spots me walking towards him, his face lights up the way it always does, and he excuses himself from his fan club to greet me halfway.
“Hunter—I mean, Mr. Alicent—”
“Hunter is fine.” It’s always disconcerting hearing that name. I rarely associate with anyone that would use it. Those who know me steer clear of it.
His smile warms even as light-red dots appear over his cheeks. “Hunter.”
“I hear you have a new addition to the classroom.”
He looks confused for a moment before understanding dawns. “Oh, you mean Augustus.” He grins sheepishly and runs a hand through his hair. “My brother named him,” he blurts out.
“Did he?” I ask, amused. He looks embarrassed. From the name or the fact that he let his brother name the class lizard?
“He’s fifteen and has a chip on his shoulder about his name.”
“Augustus?” I can’t say I blame him, really.
“It’s just August. But I guess he wanted to show someone that there are worse names?”
“We all need to vent somehow.” The smile I grace him with is the most genuine I’ve given another person besides my daughter in more than a few days. It feels easy in a way nothing else is right now. Uncomplicated. Refreshing.
“I figured it was harmless. The lizard doesn’t understand, and even if he did, I’m sure it’s a great name in lizard culture.”
“One worthy of lizard royalty,” I agree.
“Right.” He watches me with an intensity that should be off-putting.
I’m unused to being around anyone that shows their emotions quite so clearly.
My line of work tends towards people who are more closely guarded.
None of them would ever think to be so willingly open, not with anyone they don’t trust one hundred percent.
Matthew doesn’t know me. He has no idea who I am, what I’m capable of, what I’ve done, what I’ll continue doing.
I’m not a good person, and he shouldn’t be looking at me like this.
“We’re looking at having the children take turns keeping him at home but with the parents’ permission. There’ll be a slip going out this week with forms for volunteers.”
“I’ll keep an eye out for it.” Giving the news to me directly is smart; Olivia’s notes tend to go missing more often than not. Since he also emails out all information on top of the occasional physical notes, I also know he doesn’t personally give the verbal messages to all parents.
Someone should warn him that wearing his heart on his sleeve is a terrible idea. It only ever leads to broken promises and deception.
He bites his bottom lip and shuffles awkwardly, like he’s looking for something to say so that he can prolong the conversation. Far too open. Nothing at all like the man that I’m in love with. Or the shadow that follows him.
Come home with us. Let me hold you.
“Would you like to go on a date with me?” I ask.
His mouth parts in shock, and the red on his cheeks becomes more pronounced. Would it burn my hand if I were to touch it?
“I—uh—I thought you said—”
“I changed my mind.” There’s a sliver of guilt tucked in under my ribs, knowing that I’m merely using him to distract myself, to distance myself from a man I’ll never not need. There has to be a point where he’s not so viscerally in my blood stream. “Does tonight work for you?”
“Y-yeah, tonight would be—be fine.” He wrings his hands and smiles shyly. It almost makes me want to take back the invitation. He doesn’t belong anywhere near my world.
“Six o’clock. I’ll send you the address.” Eyeing his outfit—old jeans and a soft black sweater—I add, “Wear a suit or something formal casual.”
He doesn’t say a word, only continuing to stare at me, like he’s worried that I’m not real, and he’s dreaming. With a light smile, I turn my back on him and return to my daughter.
Now if only I could convince myself this isn’t a colossal mistake.
“WHERE ARE YOU GOING?” Olivia asks, climbing up onto the stool and staring critically at my outfit.
“Nowhere if your uncle doesn’t get here soon,” I reply dryly.
“He’ll be here,” she says confidently. “Is he coming to stay?”
“He has a new home, remember? Getting sick of having just me already?” The older woman who was staying here, Gloria, moved out a few months ago, to stay with the grandma of one of Jericho’s boyfriends.
While I’m glad that the disconcerting dolls she created are out of the house—except one in Olivia’s room that she insisted on keeping and will be the demise of us all—the place is quieter than either of us are used to, with just the two of us.
“Yeah,” she says, nodding solemnly. “Do you think Uncle Coco will bring Will or Peyton?”
“Possibly.” I kiss her forehead and then tug my tie off the back of the dining chair and drape it over my shoulders.
“Why don’t you text him and ask him where he is?
” Handing her my phone, I go in search of my cuff links.
I vaguely recall her using them as currency in a game she was playing with her stuffed teddies earlier in the day.
I have others, but these were a gift from Xavier a long time ago, and something in me wants to use them specifically. A twisted game I shouldn’t be playing.
“Can I do it?” she asks, making grabby hands. I can’t say no to that face even though I’ll end up looking like I’ve spent the night wrestling a bear. She knows the moves; executing them doesn’t always work out the way she wants it to.
I prop her up onto the bench instead of the stool so that she has better height and remain still while she concentrates, her tongue peeking out between her lips.
Jericho finally gets here, loudly slamming the door behind himself. “Christ, it’s hot in here. What temp is that heater?”
“It’s at don’t touch it if you value your life. You’re late.”
He ignores my warning and flicks the thermostat down anyway. I’d argue, but since I’ll be leaving in less than five minutes, I can save my energy for another time. Having a child has taught me the importance of picking my battles.
“A couple of minutes, let’s not get too excited. What are you doing on such notice anyway?”
“Dad is going on a date!” Olivia declares brightly.
Both Jericho’s eyebrows shoot up. “A date?”
“I never said I was going on a date.” Why would she think this is a date?
Just another reason I shouldn’t be doing this.
Getting personally involved—even in such a small way—with her teacher is one of the worst ideas I’ve had.
If I want to get back at Xavier, any man will do; I didn’t need to pick this one.
“Why did you brush your hair, then?” she says, like it’s the most reasonable conclusion in the world.
“I brush my hair every day.”
She gives me a look that makes her resemble Xavier far too much.
“I’m surprised you’re alone,” I say to Jericho, changing the subject. The mini version of Xavier sees far too much. Clever girl.
“The others are on their way. Will and Peyton are picking up pizza. Sebastian is finishing up at work, and Quinn had to pick up the dogs.”
“And you were late because…?”
“Sebastian needed help with something.”
I can hazard a guess what that “something” was. “Of course.”
“Yay, pizza!” She finishes the tie and pats me on the chest to let me know she’s done.
“Try to get her into bed at a normal time.” Adjusting the tie a little to stop it from choking me—she tends to tighten it a little more than comfortable—I then pat my pockets to check for my wallet and phone. Not there.
“How late are you planning to be?” Jericho asks, waggling his eyebrows. Then he pauses and scowls. “Vee, can you go find a movie that we can watch while we eat?”
“Okay!” She runs off, and I barely resist the urge to call her back. Why is he looking at me like that?
Grasping my elbow, he forces me to stay still. “Please tell me you aren’t going anywhere with Xavier.”
I’m tempted to throw it in his face and watch him seethe for no reason at all. He deserves it. “It’s not Xavier.”
The suspicious expression on his face is uncalled for.
I’ve never lied to him about this, even when it would have benefited me to do so.
He has all the details of my disastrous past with Xavier.
Perhaps I haven’t told him about the fact that Xavier occasionally visited me through the bedroom window, but that’s not lying.
A technicality that keeps me safe from this disapproving face.
“I took your advice.”
Jericho snorts. He lets me go and leans back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. “Since when?”
“I’m not answering that. Being the big brother doesn’t mean that you always know better.”
“It does.”
“It doesn’t.”
“It does.”
“It does—Stop it. I asked Matthew out as you suggested I do.”
“Who the fuck is Matthew? Oh.” He clicks his fingers. “The teacher. Thought you said you weren’t going there.” He gives me a sly look that deserves to be smacked off his face.
“And I shouldn’t be,” I drawl. So what the hell reason do I have for doing it anyway?
I’m not a reckless person. One of us needs to be careful, and it will sure as hell never be Jericho.
There’s a reason I’m the one in charge. I’ll wade into danger the same as he will, but I don’t search for it, and I don’t do it without thinking first.
“Did he trip over his own feet when you asked him?”
“I’m not answering that.”
“He’s so wholesome. Are you gonna take him to a hotel later? Or show him a good time in his own bed?”
I’m not answering that. I have no intention of it being anything more than a pleasant dinner. “There’s something wrong with you.”
“Don’t tell me you don’t kiss on the first date. That’s so boring.”
“When are your men getting here? I like them better than you.” The jury is out on Peyton since he and Jericho are very similar in their approach of teasing everything in sight for the fun of it. I’d prefer there not be two of them.
He winks at me and gives me a smacking kiss on my cheek. “Have a nice night. Use protection. Curfew is eleven; don’t make me call the cops.”
“You think you’re funny, but I have bad news for you.”
“Don’t tell me, my heart couldn’t take it.”
Gathering the rest of my belongings, I give Olivia one last hug and kiss, with a whispered plea for her to at least attempt to behave. I shoot, “Don’t wait up,” over my shoulder before leaving.
I can only hope this isn’t a mistake that will come back to bite me in the ass later.