Chapter 13 Bunny - Present
Present
Annoyance ripples through me as I check my phone for the millionth time in the last twenty minutes.
The jury has returned with its decision.
Verdict? Hunter is absolutely ignoring me.
A few weeks ago, this man wouldn’t have let an hour pass without responding to me, let alone nearly two days. Since we slept together, it seems he’s sticking to his decision to stop waiting around for me.
Nausea splashes against my stomach lining, and it takes all my willpower to swallow down the sickness trying to claw its way up my throat.
Hunter’s steadfast stubbornness is going to give me an ulcer.
He’s cordial at work but doesn’t go out of his way to include me like usual.
And the other day he smiled at Gwendolyn Cabaret…
fucking smiled. The little hussy has been after him for months.
She’s even tried getting the department to pair them on assignment, even though she’s been with her partner for nearly five years.
If Hunter thinks I’m going to cave, he’s wrong.
Yasha and Maru perk up, their little ears twitching toward the front door as they hear Dove’s keys in the lock. Seconds later, Fang bursts in to meet his friends, their yips so shrill I rub my temple to relieve the instant headache.
I must be coming down with something. Something’s felt off for the last week.
“Buns? You got mail!” Dove calls out as she enters. The smell of garlic, cheese, and marinara wafts into the foyer with her arrival. As much as I wanted chicken parm earlier, the thought of food no longer sounds appealing.
It’s gotta be the flu.
“Thanks, Love Dove.” I take the manila envelope from her and look it over. “That’s strange. I didn’t even hear Teddy knock today. The boys weren’t alerted either.”
“Maybe he’s on vacation?” She begins unpacking our takeout, placing the random containers on my small kitchen table. “I got the panzerotti dolce you like. I was at Wrenley’s, so I just stopped at Nonna Dora’s.”
“Of course you were at Wrenley’s. You’re always with Wrenley.” I’m joking, but even I can hear how flat my tone is.
“I know. If you’re feeling neglected, I’m sorry. I suck.” She pauses in her mission to waggle her brows at me. “And speaking of sucking…”
“Oh my god, give it up, will you? I’m not telling you what happened in that bathroom.” I tear into my mail and frown at the single folded paper inside. “I will tell you that Hunter is ignoring me.”
My phone dings from its place next to the garlic knots, and Dove looks at it with a grin while I unfold the letter. “Is he now? He just texted you.” She draws out the you like we’re kids talking about silly crushes.
Even though I’ve been annoyed with him for not responding, the feeling pales in comparison to the violent crash of fear icing my veins.
I know what you did.
Magazine clippings of letters spelling out the message are all that’s on the paper, like an old Hollywood thriller. “Was this in the mailbox?”
“No, it was leaning against your door. Why? What is it?” She visibly cringes as I hold the paper up for her to read. “Eww. Take this in and see if they can dust it for fingerprints. What a weirdo.”
I blanch at her flippant attitude. “What if it’s your weirdo?”
“Wrenley?” Dove sets her mushroom ravioli down and spins to face me, blonde locks fanning out like a halo. “Why on Earth would you think he’d leave something like this at your door?”
“I don’t know. He knows about you now. Maybe it wasn’t that hard for him to figure out.
” My headache throbs as I think about who would send me this and why.
I grab my phone and take a screenshot, sending it to Hunter.
His earlier single-word negative reply to my question about needing me for work this week is forgotten as I type.
This was against my door when Dove got here.
Few people know about the real circumstances surrounding my husband’s death—Hunter being one of them. And though the letter could be referring to my activities as the Shadow Siren, it could also be talking about Nathaniel’s death, regardless of it being two years ago.
Hunter’s reply comes through in less than a minute.
Hunter
Take it to forensics. Get it checked for prints.
I stare at my phone—at how unaffected his response is. If this had happened before the bathroom incident, Hunter would have personally gone to every house on the block to check for cameras, then bought one for my place, installed it, and had the feed streaming to his phone as well as mine.
My stomach dips as I realize how much I’ve come to rely on him.
When I lift my gaze and find Dove staring at me, I nearly step back from the ferocious blaze in her bright blue eyes.
She’s only directed her dark side at me once in our year-and-a-half friendship—the night we met—and I’d rather not fight with the only real friend I have over something as stupid as a guy.
Hands on her hips, she nods to my phone. “Hunter?”
“Yeah. He said to take it to forensics.” Securing the letter in the envelope, I retrieve a Ziploc bag and shove it inside.
“Great. Now can we eat and go back to discussing how Wrenley isn’t the one who sent the letter and how he’d never do something like that? If he suspects you, I’m sure he’ll just ask. We don’t keep secrets anymore.”
“Oh? So he knows you’re planning on going to California to confront his mother?” I deadpan.
The ensuing silence is so thick I can hear my heart thumping wildly in my chest.
Just can’t keep your mouth shut, can you?
Regardless of not wanting to fight with her, I can’t stop the vitriol from spilling out. “Cranky” doesn’t even begin to cover my mood today. You could tell me the sky is blue, and I’d argue it’s green.
“Is this going to be a problem?”
“I don’t know, Dove. Is it?”
We engage in an epic stare-down that stretches on and on, like we’re about to draw guns for a good ol’ fashioned Western duel.
Finally, instead of verbally producing what I’m sure would be the pinkest, sparkliest handgun in the city, my friend concedes.
“What we do is a big deal. I already told you I wouldn’t tell him about you until you’re ready.
But Wrenley is going to be a part of my life, Buns.
A big part. And there’s room for you both, but you have to scoot over a little.
Okay? Wrenley has demons, too. Maybe the four of us can spend a little time together so you can get to know him. ”
“I don’t want to get to know him,” I grumble.
A tremor crawls up my limbs. I shake them out with a frustrated cry, trying to soften the hardened edges of my prickly temper.
“I’m sorry. I know I’m being awful. I’m just in a mood.
Hunter isn’t really speaking to me. So the four of us hanging out isn’t really in the cards. ”
Dove bites the inside of her cheek, her bright, watermelon-glossed lips pursing as she turns back to our food. “What are you going to do if he’s decided he’s truly finished pursuing you?”
Sorrow sweeps through me, rallying tears to my lashes that I hastily wipe away before she sees.
Maybe after holding out for so long, the real thing didn’t compare to the remembrance of what we had before I ruined everything.
Hunter got what he wanted—me practically begging for his attention the second he took it away—but instead of celebrating the win, it’s like he doesn’t even care.
It’s everything I feared and nothing I expected.
Have I turned my sweet Hunter into the type of man I despise? The one born from giving too many chances. Having his heart ripped out too many times. Have I lost him for good? And if there’s even a minuscule chance that I haven’t… am I ready to surrender my heart?
No.
“This is what he wants.” I turn to grab plates and utensils. “For me to think he’s done. And it worked. I’ve been messaging him every day like a needy cat in heat, when it used to be the other way around. But he doesn’t get to try to pressure me into a decision.”
“Well, you know I support whatever decision you make. I’m team Bunny.” She pulls off a chunk of garlic knot, dips it in marinara, and pops it into her mouth. “Although, I don’t support this month’s book pick. It’s boring as fuck. I DNF’d it.”
“Oh thank god.” I gladly drop the subject of Hunter and focus on our shared love. “I felt so bad that I pushed for it. It’s awful. Our followers are going to question our choices after this one.”
We don’t like talking poorly about books on our page. If we don’t like it, we don’t review it. We don’t need to make a post bashing the author or the book. But we’ve never had a book-of-the-month we didn’t like, so we’re in uncharted territory.
“I say we leave a rating off it and just make an aesthetic post with a few quotes. I already highlighted a few. I think that will speak for itself, and maybe we chill on that sub-genre for a while.”
“Yeah. Agreed.”
“By the way…” Dove waits until we’ve settled in the living room with our dinner. “Wrenley wants to join book club.”
It takes me a moment to realize the growl rolling through the room is coming from me, not one of the dogs.
Her blonde curls bounce as she nods and grabs the remote to find a movie. “I’ll take that as a maybe.”
Leaning forward, I select a large garlic knot from the basket, my appetite returning full force once the first bite of pillowy, buttery, garlicky goodness hits my tongue. “Love Dove, you can take that as a very hard no.”