52. FIFTY-TWO
FIFTY-TWO
For a moment, I’m back in time.
I’m eighteen, fresh out of jail with only the clothes on my back. I have nowhere to go—no one to call—I’m alone. The fear that comes with that knowledge is so punishing that all you can do is cower beneath it.
You can run and hide, hoping that the gaping jaws of reality don’t catch you by the ankles.
Where will you go? How will you live? There’s no escaping the monster at your back, breathing down your neck, and ready to devour you whole.
The ground moves under your feet, but you never get very far.
Amid this crippling terror, you find yourself frantic to find a way out, a bright light because that’s what always happened before.
No matter how bad things were or how hopeless it all felt, an option presented itself as a saving grace—a silver lining in the bleak, dank, melancholy.
Only that moment never comes.
The alternative was never there to begin with.
And you drown.
Black slime slips down your throat, clogging your airways, oozing into your organs, and invading your veins. You’re a goner, and everyone knows it. There’s no one to save you. And just before that despair suffocates you completely, you manage to take a breath.
Then another.
Slowly, you’re breathing once again, and you crawl out of the hole with bloody fingernails and weak limbs. Half-alive, you get accustomed to your new world and accept it for what it is.
You survive.
But that was before.
I hold my head tighter, keeping it tucked as far as it will go, and fold my knees into my chest. If I had to pinpoint the exact source of my pain, it’d be my upper abdomen. Maybe it’s my stomach, maybe it’s my broken heart hanging by fragile tendons…maybe it’s my last hope.
We need to talk.
That’s never good, but when has Hunter ever hurt me? Am I overreacting?
Too scared to look or speak, I focus on breathing. I can hear the rustle of fabric, the soft hum of the heater kicking on, and everything unspoken. If I reach deep enough, I might have just enough bravery to listen to what Hunter has to say.
“Gray.” It’s a breath—a hesitant sound.
Impossibly, I curl my body tighter. “What?” I whisper. Please don’t do this .
“Will you look at me? Please, sweetheart.”
I ball my fists, not wanting to fall for it. But like it always does, his voice lures me out. And if I’m being honest, regardless of how I feel right now, I can’t bring myself to hate him over a possibility instead of a fact.
As slowly as I can, I lift my head. Hunter doesn’t look so detached anymore. He’s on his knees, leaning against his heels with his hands flat over his thighs.
The cat got his tongue because he doesn’t say a word now that we’re maintaining eye contact. The apple of his throat bobs while he swallows hard. “Can we go downstairs?” he asks after a while.
I shake my head.
With a heavy sigh, he tugs at his hair before conceding. “You made banana bread.”
“Don’t,” I growl. My stomach swoops violently, and it isn’t the typical sensation I get around him. Dread consumes me, and this pitiful distraction tactic isn’t going to work on me.
“Fine. I won’t.” Again, he nervously pushes his hair back. Another swallow. Another breath. “I have to find different accommodations for you.”
Accommodations.
Transactional.
“My dad made some valid points about the news finding out about you staying with me. It looks…well, it doesn’t matter, but the point is, we don’t want it sending the wrong idea.”
Wrong idea.
Of course it was.
“It’s just…not done. What we are doing—what I did. I might not be a state official, but my dad is…and by extension, those rules and expectations apply to me. A temporary situation is what I’ll tell the media just to get them off our backs.”
Temporary situation.
I knew it.
“That doesn’t mean I won’t still help you, and it doesn’t mean we have to stop seeing each other. We just can’t…be together under the same roof.”
We can’t be together.
He promised we would.
“Do you understand? I’ll make sure you have a place to go. I’ll come to see you every day. But I’ll have to put on a good show of coming home at night, so it looks like we went our separate ways.”
Separate ways.
Like we should've gone from the start.
“Gray?” I blink, the corked bottle holding all my emotions rumbling and ready to burst. “All this means is you’ll be in a different place.
I’m not leaving you.” I start to shake again, but he keeps fucking talking .
He keeps hurting me and won’t stop. “I’m trying to make this work for everyone. I think it’ll work until I’m ready.”
Until he’s ready?
Until he’s fucking ready?!
“You’ll never be ready!” I blow up. “You have been doing this for fifteen years! Do you fucking hear yourself? You want to hide me just to make your dad happy? The dad who manipulates you—who doesn’t give a fuck about you?”
“He loves me!” he snaps. “You weren’t there, alright? He…he said it. And I am not ready to break his heart.”
“But you are perfectly fine breaking mine ,” I cry, tears streaming down my cheeks. “What am I supposed to do without you? Huh? Tell me!”
“You still have me! I’m not going anywhere. This is just a relocation!”
“Like I’m a fucking rat in your attic that you don’t have the balls to kill! Fuck you! Fuck you .” I push to my feet, shove open the bedroom door, and go to grab my bag, but then I think better of it.
I know what’ll happen if I take it.
I know what’s waiting for me.
“How can you not see that I’m trying? You want me just to throw away everything like that.” Hunter snaps his fingers. “How is that fair?”
“The fact you even view coming out as throwing everything away should be a really big fucking clue, man.” I rummage through the bag and pull the phone charger out, and then I swipe my wallet off the nightstand.
I don’t know how long he’ll let me keep my phone, but if I can get a job before he disconnects it, that’ll help.
“That’s because you don’t have anything to lose,” he growls, low and guttural. “You don’t know what it’s like to try so fucking hard to matter, all the while knowing you might never.”
I shoulder past him, stepping out into the hall while pushing the charger and wallet in my pocket. My shoes are downstairs. I don’t have any socks on, but fuck it. I’ve dealt with worse.
“ You were the one who agreed to this, Gray!” he yells at my back.
I hurry down the stairs, choking on the sob caught in my throat.
“You wanted this despite knowing it was all I could offer. You agreed !”
My feet hit the bottom and I spin around with a vengeance, bellowing out a horrible cry.
“And you lied ! You promised that you weren’t telling me to give you time, knowing it wouldn’t ever happen!
I begged you! I trusted you! You pushed into my life, tricked me and seduced me, all the while you knew it was only temporary—that I was only temporary.
” I wipe my eyes quickly before continuing, “You were right about one thing, Hunter. I do deserve better, and it isn’t you. ”
“Gray—”
I slide my feet into my shoes, grab my jacket off the coat rack, and open the door. Familiar fear claws at my skin, but it’s nothing compared to the hollow pit now in place of my chest.
“Gray, stop. It’s fucking dark and freezing!”
I ignore him, stepping onto the porch. There aren’t any neighbors immediately close by, but the houses in the distance are close enough that they’d hear the screaming if it got quiet enough. Banking on his cowardice, I start walking.
“God damn it,” he growls, and I hear the front door slam shut followed by his heavy footfalls. “Gray, wait. Just wait. I’m explaining this all wrong.”
I keep going.
“Please!”
I push my legs faster.
“You have to understand. I swear to god, I’m not trying to hurt you. I’m trying to make all the pieces fit.”
Mustering the last ounce of my strength—the final chunk I’ve stored away—I stop, take a breath, and as loud as I possibly can, I scream, “LEAVE ME ALONE, HUNTER KADE!”
His eyes bug out of his skull as my voice carries across the water, down the road, and a few lights flip on in the distance. Our breaths waft out in grey puffs of smoke, his face pales, and I lift my chin before spitting.
“I deserve better.”
I give him my back, leaving my shattered heart lying in the snow right by the spit at his feet.