Chapter 20
The rain picks up again as I approach Hunter’s door. His family has owned this home for generations, and even though he could sell the place for millions, he still chooses to live in the massive structure by himself.
I’m ready to strip down by the time I make it to the top step, shrugging out of my jacket and draping it over the bag of Indian food I grabbed on my way here as I ring the doorbell a million times in succession.
Impatient? Who, me?
It seems like hours before I finally hear footsteps and… is that… a chicken?
One side of the heavy black wood opens, and I oscillate between salivating at the sight before me and curling my lips inward to suppress a disbelieving laugh.
Hunter stares back in surprise wearing deliciously revealing gray sweats. Water drips down his sinfully bare abs, his curls are mussed, and he’s wearing his glasses like he’s gearing up for some sort of photoshoot—with a chicken in his arms.
A chicken that looks like it’s seen better days, with rumpled, greasy-looking feathers and a foot that looks mangled, like something once tried to chew it off. A cloth wraps around its bottom half, secured with a large plastic safety pin.
“Bunny, what are you doing here?” He switches the chicken to his other arm, and it squawks, eyeing me like it’s daring me to say something about its appearance.
In the end, my laughter wins out. “What are you doing?”
I try to enter his house, but the chicken puffs up and begins making the most god-awful sounds I’ve ever heard from an animal.
“Calm down, Pepper. Shh. That’s it, pretty girl. It’s okay. You’re okay,” Hunter coos as he gently strokes the black plume on top of her head. He moves aside, and she aggressively snaps at me as I pass.
Affronted, I glare at her. “Watch it, you spicy nugget.”
I’ve never been a fan of chickens. They are dirty and loud, and I’m a cereal-over-eggs-for-breakfast girlie anyway.
“Sorry, she doesn’t like anyone except Mom and me. That’s what the emergency was this morning. My parents are heading on vacation, and their usual house sitter wasn’t available.” He leans over, keeping the chicken far away from me as he plants a soft kiss on my lips.
I melt under his attention, and it’s almost enough to make me forget that I’m upset about the way he left this morning.
Almost.
“That doesn’t explain why you haven’t answered your phone all day. Or why you left the way you did. And don’t your parents have a whole farm upstate? Who’s watching that?” I follow him into the kitchen and set the food on the white-and-gray marbled granite island.
Hunter sets Pepper in a small wire pen in the dining room. The second he lets go of her, she stomps her foot and continues her screeching.
“Their vet is going to keep an eye on things, but Pepper is nearly impossible for anyone else to deal with. She tolerates their usual sitter, but I think she hates their vet more than you hate the color pink, if that helps you understand her any better.”
He steps toward me, and I retreat a step. “Nuh-uh. You were just holding that dirty, mangy thing to your body.” His very toned, very delicious-looking, very wet body. “Why are you dripping wet?”
“I was just about to give ‘that dirty, mangy thing’ a bath. And she’s not mangy. She’s a frizzle silkie. They just look like that.”
“Well, that’s unfortunate.”
“Don’t be mean.”
Pepper clucks angrily as if agreeing.
“Why did you write what you did on the note this morning?”
My sudden change of topic draws his brows together. But instead of asking what I’m talking about, his jaw ticks as his whiskey gaze hardens. “It didn’t feel good… did it?”
Swiftly, my emotions swing from reasonable to irrational. “Are you fucking kidding me, Hunter? You wanted me to know what it felt like?”
I push him away as he draws near, Pepper growing louder in the background and adding to my increasing aggravation.
Remorse shines in his gaze as he reaches for me again, and this time, I don’t fight him. “Admittedly, it was a dick move. I’m sorry, Bunny. I regretted it the moment my cab pulled away this morning and—”
“And what? I thought we were in a good place, and you wanted to what, Hunter? Teach me a lesson?”
Why are we like this? Every single time we move forward a step, one of us fucks something up and falls back two.
Okay, to be fair, up until this point it’s been mainly me who fucks things up, and Hunter’s given me more passes than I can count. I should let this one go.
Only I can’t.
Rationally, I know I need to calm down, but with every word that comes out of his mouth, I fall deeper and deeper down a chasm of rage toward an impending lava pit of doom. My skin heats, tears prick my eyes as my nails dig into his arms.
He lifts my chin gently and wipes at the purple foil paw print stickers over my scar.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have written it.
I’ll admit, though, I wanted you to know what it felt like to wake up alone after spending an incredible night together.
I wanted you to know what I went through and why I don’t ever want to experience it again.
You seem like you’re finally ready to give this a chance, but I want you to know what that means, Little Rabbit.
You can’t run again. I won’t survive it a second time. ”
His words are earnest, and he swallows my answering sob with a gentle kiss. Once again, I don’t even know why I’m crying, other than from intense frustration. It’s fair that he wants me to understand what I put him through, so it’s only fair that I’m willing to do the same for him.
Hunter has been through hell and back for me.
“You didn’t have to be such a dick about it.” I wipe at my eyes before leaning into his embrace.
“You’re right, and I’m sorry I haven’t answered your calls all day. Gwen has been blowing up my phone over this new case, so I put it on silent—”
“Why is Gwendolyn contacting you about the case?” I bristle, pulling away as a new wave of anger incinerates my tears. “Are you fucking working together?”
“Yes. I thought you knew that.” Hunter shakes his head, a frown curving his lips. “Miller just had surgery—”
“I don’t give a shit what’s going on with her partner, why is she working with you?”
“It’s their case, Bunny.”
“I don’t care, I don’t want her near you.”
An erupting laugh launches into the air, his face crumpling until it mirrors my rage. “You made me watch you date guy after guy. Taunted me while you flirted with them.”
“I was never planning on bringing any of them home! You said yourself you knew that!”
“I have no intention of bringing Gwen home!”
“Work is your second home, Hunter! And stop calling her Gwen!” My voice spikes into a shrill shriek, and even my eyes widen at my outburst.
“Did you start your period this morning or something? Jesus Christ.” Hunter drags a hand through his curls and turns his back on me, like he’s stopping himself from saying more.
Another bitchy comment is on the tip of my tongue when I suddenly remember that’s what I was doing when Wrenley called this morning.
I was trying to check my tracker app to see how many months it’s been since I had my period.
I’m irregular, but I usually don’t skip more than one, and I can’t remember the last time I rode the crimson wave.
I stare at my screen as I go through the dates.
Jesus Christ is right. It’s been months.
Quickly, I calculate the timing, details and facts flying through my brain as fast as I can process them.
“Bunny? What is it?” Hunter’s voice sounds far away, like there’s a wall between us, siphoning all sound out except for the blood rushing through my ears.
In a stunned stupor, I turn, walking out of the house and into the rain, uncaring that it soaks through my dress or turns my hair into a mass that weighs heavily on my back.
He yells after me, cursing the farther I get. I don’t expect him to follow, knowing he can’t just leave the chicken in the pen. I walk mindlessly for blocks until I find what I’m looking for, then head back.
By the time I return, I already know what the outcome will be, but I still need to see tangible proof.
“What the hell, Bunny? What was that about?” Hunter demands as I walk past him to the bathroom, dripping water all over his hardwood floor.
Our future.
The fact that we’re about to become irrevocably entwined, whether we’re ready or not.
The mood swings, the tight clothing, the sudden necessity for the affection and the sex and the feral ownership I feel over Hunter—mostly normal things when it comes to us, but lately they’ve all been heightened needs.
That night in the bathroom at The Tipsy Taco—the night we gave in to our baser desires and took everything we’ve wanted from each other—we never used a condom.
We never used a condom.
“Bunny!” Hunter pounds on the door. “What is going on?”
I can hear the frenzied worry in his tone, feel his restlessness through the door. It mirrors my own as I stare at the sticks on the counter and count down the minutes.
Three.
Two.
One.
Two pink lines.
A plus sign.
With a resigned sigh, I open the door and meet Hunter’s distressed stare. “I’m pregnant.”
“You’re what?” His molten-amber gaze flicks past me to the multiple tests on the vanity.
I swallow the lump in my throat as his eyes meet mine again. His Adam’s apple bobs thickly as I repeat myself. “I’m pregnant.”
My heart aches when his eyes harden and he takes a step back. I see his walls rising as he voices the question I know is coming, but it still hurts to hear how much he feels the need to ask it.
“Is it…” He blows out a shaky breath, gaze dropping to the floor as his voice cracks. “Is it mine?”
How are we supposed to do this? How do you raise a child with someone you don’t trust?
Do I even want a baby? Does he? He’s on the rise at work—this will ruin all the progress he’s made in the department.
My lips curl inward, my teeth sinking into the bottom one to quell another onslaught of tears. “Yes, it’s yours.”
A relieved sigh spills past his lips, a nervous chuckle racking his body as he runs a hand through his hair again. “Bunny…”
I can picture Hunter as a dad so easily. See these halls filled with the pitter-patter of tiny feet. T-ball games and team snack runs for a toddler with another strapped to his chest. He’ll want to be a coach, of course, and spend weekends upstate on his family’s farm.
It’s everything I never imagined I’d have with a man who loves me as profoundly as Hunter does.
How will it work, though, when this man doesn’t trust me?
“I’ve never slept with anyone else, Hunter.” His eyes lift, so much longing and uncertainty in their glistening depths. “After Nathaniel, it’s only ever been you.”
How will it work when he’s the detective actively looking for a serial killer?
And that serial killer happens to be me?