That Same Day
“Hunter, it’s Stan.”
Rubbing my brow, I mumbled, “Hey.”
“You sound grim.”
“I feel it.”
My grandfather was going to die in jail.
That was a fact.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Why are you calling? I thought you were using Lodestar for your hacking now?”
Stan grunted. “We’re old friends, Hunt. I can call for something other than help.”
I arched a brow. “Cut the bullshit. We are friends, but we don’t have that kind of friendship.”
“Aurora…”
I straightened up. “What about her?”
“I think you should come and see for yourself.”
I scowled. “I don’t think Rory would appreciate that.”
“I think she might.”
If she did, then that meant… Fuck. That meant something was really wrong.
It killed me to even think it, but Aurora never wanted me around. Only if things were bad would she want me close.
Clenching my fists, I rumbled, “I can’t just drop everything, Stan.”
“I know, man. I know.”
He fucking didn’t.
With Grandfather in prison, I was—
Jesus.
I was the head of the fucking Camorra.
What kind of sick joke was this?
“What’s going on with her?”
“Overworking, mostly.”
“She does that anyway.”
“She’s unhappy, Hunt,” Stan said softly. “You’re the only fucker who can make her smile, even if she’s in denial about that.”
His words nourished something inside me that had refused to die out no matter what she did.
Aurora and I—we weren’t second chance, best friends to lovers.
We’d been best friends.
We’d been close as fuck.
Now we were just nothing.
And that fucking hurt.
My tone pinged with an incoming message.
I pulled it away and read Rachel’s text.
Rachel: Fantastic news. Dead To Me says that’s the last time she’ll contact us.
Somehow, that made less sense than any-fucking-thing else.
Dead To Me had asked for the most irrelevant information imaginable.
I’d heard great things about her, but after our interactions, I was disappointed.
Which was saying something when I was the one who’d die if I fucked up.
But, without her watching me through a set of crosshairs, and with Grandfather in jail now that his case was over, I could go to New York. Not for long. A week, tops.
Me: You’re sure you can trust her assurances?
Rachel: YES.
Me: Thank you for being the go-between on this, Rach.
Rachel: I love you, Hunter. I’ll do anything to keep you safe.
I released a breath.
Why couldn’t we have fallen in love with each other?
I knew what we felt was fraternal. An incredibly strong bond, but nothing romantic.
Not like what I felt for Aurora.
Fuck, she consumed me and I hadn’t even seen her in years.
Me: Love you too, Rach.
“Hunter?”
“I’ll catch a flight tonight.”
“You sure? Tomorrow’s—”
“It doesn’t matter.” I’d read in the papers about the society wedding of the decade taking place in the Victoria Hotel tomorrow. I could easily pack for a black-tie event. “I’ll be there.”