Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Hunter
Pulling into an empty spot in front of Matilda’s house, I put my truck into park and turn to face Walt. “Give me a call when you want me to pick you up.”
He hums. “I feel like I’m fourteen again. Do I have a curfew too?”
I arch a brow at his snarky attitude. “Did your parents pick you up at fourteen, or did you sneak through the window?”
He gives me a sideways glance, but the twitch of his mustache gives him away. I’ve already heard all the stories from his rebellious teenage years.
“Mhm, thought so,” I say, then jerk my chin toward him. “I mean it, Walt. I don’t care what time it is. Tonight. Tomorrow. Whenever you need picking up, just call me. There’s no need to try and navigate public transport in your condition.”
Last night, I received a phone call from Matilda letting me know Walt had managed to get himself lost. He isn’t tech-savvy enough to use ride share apps, and he doesn’t trust taxis after some of the wrecks he responded to, so he took it upon himself to use the bus.
Only instead of making his way home, he ended up going forty minutes in the wrong direction before he realized.
I had to ask my chief if I could leave my shift to go and get him and take him home.
Walt’s lucky we didn’t end up getting a call during that time, or it could have caused a lot of trouble. Something I’m making sure he doesn’t forget.
“My condition?” He makes a disgruntled sound. “There ain’t nothing wrong with me, son.”
I give him a pointed glare, not wanting to bring up the fact I had to help him get out of bed this morning when I got home from work.
“Yes, there is. Now, stop being a stubborn ass and get out of my car. Make sure to say hi to Matilda for me.”
He opens the door and murmurs about me yapping on at him as he slowly gets out of my truck.
Before he can shut the door, I call out, “Don’t forget to—”
“Call you when I want you to pick me up. Yes, sir. No need to tell me five times. Now, you go to the movies and whine to some folk your own age.”
“Talking in the movies is frowned upon,” I smirk.
“Hell, son, I swear you wind me up on purpose,” he grumbles, but there’s affection in his tone.
“I will,” I say before quickly adding, “Talk to some people. Maybe I’ll go to a pub or something after.”
His face lights up, clearly pleased with my answer. “Good. Now, clear off. I’ve kept Matilda waiting long enough.” He knocks his knuckles against the doorframe twice, then shuts the door. I hold my hand up in a wave and wait until he’s safely inside the house before pulling away from the curb.
I doubt I will be in the mood for going to a pub after, but he doesn’t need to know that.
Twenty minutes later, I park my truck in the underground parking garage and make my way up to the theater level. There’s holiday music playing through the speakers and festive decorations filling the space, and I’m instantly hit with the smell of fresh popcorn.
Coming to the movie theater in the run-up to Christmas was one of Duncan’s and my traditions whenever I wasn’t deployed.
We would watch whatever cheesy holiday rom-com was showing and eat our body weight in buttered popcorn.
He loved it. I wasn’t a big fan of the movies, but he was.
He loved anything to do with the holidays, including decorating our house with so many lights I’m sure it could have been seen from the moon.
But the joy that radiated on his face was always the highlight for me.
I did anything so I could see that expression on his face.
So here I am, a week before the holidays, trying to ignore the heavy ache in my chest as I purchase a ticket for one.
I might not enjoy the films or eat all of the popcorn, but it’s a tradition I’ve tried to keep alive, even though he couldn’t be.
With the ticket stub in hand, I turn to head toward the concession stand and almost walk right into someone whose face I’d recognize anywhere.
Elliot’s hands are shoved inside the front pocket of his oversized hoodie. A line of worry creases his brows until those pale green eyes meet mine. They widen in surprise. Those plush lips part on a small gasp.
“Hunter.” My name is barely above a whisper, and then he quickly rushes to add, “I’m not following you, I promise.”
I chuckle. “I didn’t think that at all. How are you doing? No more broken elevators?” I ask, offering him a smile so he knows I’m teasing.
His shoulders relax, and his laugh is quiet. “No, but my teammates haven’t let me live it down. Some of them think I did it on purpose.”
“Why would you do that?” I frown.
His nose scrunches up with a grimace. “I… uhh…” He glances around, and whatever the answer is has caused his shoulders to tense up again. I place a hand on one and give it a squeeze.
“Hey, you don’t have to tell me. But I hope you don’t let them make you feel guilty about needing help. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
He relaxes under my palm and I smile. And it takes me longer than it should for me to let him go.
He must not notice, though, as he motions to my other hand. “What are you watching?”
Glancing down at the ticket stub, I chuckle silently and shake my head. “You can’t judge me, okay? I have a reason for it.”
He holds his hand up and spreads his middle and ring fingers apart. “Scout’s honor.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s Star Trek.” I grin.
“Dammit.” He drops his hand and looks at it almost like it’s something foreign to his body. His fingers move in various gestures, but then he sighs and shoves it back in his pocket. “I can’t remember what it is, but I promise not to be judgy.”
“I’m going to see Love in the Cabin,” I admit, trying hard to keep a straight face.
His full lips part, and then they roll inward. His eyes widen again, the sparkling fairy lights reflect in those gorgeous eyes.
“Hey, don’t laugh,” I say, but my own laughter slips out.
He slaps a palm over his mouth after he lets out a giggle, then takes a deep inhale. He drops his hand, and his lips twitch once. Clearly trying to fight back a laugh.
“I’m not laughing. I just… didn’t expect you to be the lovey-dovey romantic type of movie guy where they use shaving cream for snow.”
My head tilts in surprise. “They do?”
“I saw a video about it once when I couldn’t sleep. They mix baking soda and shaving cream or sometimes use this paper-based fiber.” He shrugs. “I find a lot of useless and random information out when I can’t sleep.”
I want to ask him why he can’t sleep, but I don’t want to ruin this moment. This lightness that’s settling between us. It’s easing the ache I was carrying in my chest with every minute that goes by.
“What were you going to watch?” I ask.
He shrugs again, glancing over to the screens that list all the showings.
“I haven’t decided. I kinda came here on a whim because Blaine and Alex are doing coupley stuff with Zach and Carter.
” He chews on the inside of his cheek for a second before adding, “We have the night off, as we had a game last night in Montréal, and I didn’t want to waste it sitting in my apartment, feeling left out. ”
Looking down at the ticket stub, I trace my thumb over the admission one.
There’s something so magnetizing about Elliot.
He has this energy about him, so light and pure, that you can’t resist being pulled in.
I want to continue to see this sparkle in his eye, but it would be harsh of me to be the shadow in Elliot’s bright world.
But even as the thought crosses my mind, I shock myself by asking, “Why don’t you watch this with me?”
Surprise flickers over his face. “Are you on your own?”
“Yeah.”
His head tips back as he laughs. The movement catches the light, almost casting a halo around his blond, wavy hair, and the sight does something to me.
“What?” I prompt.
“I’m sorry. It’s just amused me that you were gonna go see it on your own. You know it’s probably gonna be full of couples?”
“Yeah, but I was planning on getting a large popcorn to keep me company.”
He grins, and I can’t help but grin back.
“Really? You wouldn’t mind me gate-crashing your night?” he asks.
“Yeah, it’ll be good to have some company.”
And suddenly, I’m hoping he’ll say yes.
Walt has offered to come with me over the years so I’m not alone, but I always felt like I was betraying Duncan by having someone take his place.
Tonight, however, I don’t feel that same sense of betrayal.
Duncan would want this. Hell, if Duncan were here, he would be insisting for Elliot to join us.
I know Elliot isn’t replacing Duncan. No one could ever replace Duncan. But maybe Elliot is the shining light I need in my life.
A lighthouse to prevent me from getting lost in the darkness that I’ve been sailing in for all these years.
“Okay, only if you’re sure,” he says slowly. He chews on the inside of his lip, and the gesture only makes his full lips look even fuller. I want to trail them with my thumb or my tongue. What would he do if I bit them? Tugged them between my teeth?
Whoa, there.
“Positive.” I nod.
His gaze flicks to the concession stand. “Can I get snacks?”
“You can get whatever you want.”
There’s a spark of something like mischief in his eyes as his eyes travel down the length of my body as he murmurs under his breath, “Don’t tempt me.”
Before I can respond, he steps around me to use the self-service machine, and I smile brightly at his back. Was… was he flirting with me?
Resting my arm on the wall next to him, I lean in and lower my voice. “What was that?”
“Nothing,” he says quickly without looking up from the screen.
Once Elliot purchases his ticket, we head to the concession stand.
We each get a soda and a large bucket of popcorn to share.
Elliot buys a packet of M&M’s, claiming it’ll make the popcorn “epic.” We make our way into the theater and sit down.
He rips the packet of M&M’s open and pours them into the popcorn before giving it a slight shake.
“I don’t think I’ve ever tried this,” I admit, grabbing a handful and throwing it into my mouth. The buttery taste of the popcorn mixed with the chocolate explodes on my tongue, and I let out a satisfied moan. “Oh, that’s good.”
His wide grin lights his face, a sense of pride in his eyes at my reaction. “It’s so good. I’m glad you like it.”
The movie starts, and we exchange amused glances at the cheesy scenes, laughing quietly under our breaths when they walk through the fake snow, which, now I think about it, does look a lot like shaving cream.
Our fingers brush when we reach into the popcorn bucket at the same time, and a spark of electricity rushes down my spine as our eyes lock.
They look a paler green against the bright theater screen light.
I could stare into them for hours, watching how many colors they turn.
“Sorry,” he whispers, removing his hand and nudging the bucket toward me.
I grab a handful, then nudge it back and whisper, “It’s okay.”
Partway through the movie, my eyes begin to feel heavy.
I assessed my surroundings as soon as we walked in here.
The seats we chose means there’s a wall behind me, and nobody is sitting to my left.
I’ve taken in every person in this theater, and none of them rings the alarm in my head as they pose a threat.
And maybe it’s Elliot’s energy that helps soothe the storm that resides inside me.
A lighthouse.
So I do something I haven’t done since I was a teenager. Placing my hand on the arm of the chair until my pinky finger touches Elliot’s arm, I close my eyes and fall asleep.