25. Hunter
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
HUNTER
Christmas Morning
“ G ood morning, Hunter. Merry Christmas,” Mom says from the front room as I trudge down the stairs. I need coffee and possibly a good whack to the head to get me through all of this family togetherness. I’m only twenty-four hours into a two-day sentence in this house, all because my stupid ass promised Theron I’d be here on Christmas morning. That was before I went and promised Dad I’d stay until after dinner. At least Chase and Kayla will be here by then, and I’ll have a little bit of a buffer.
“Morning,” I mumble, shuffling across the tiled floor to the kitchen.
She walks over from the couch, leaving the island between us. “There’s coffee in the pot.”
I set my phone on the counter and pour myself a cup, hoping the caffeine will do something for my sour mood. One big swig, and I promptly spit it out in the sink. The coffee coats my mouth with a bitter film. “What the hell is this?” I ask.
“Hunter, language, please. It’s coffee…”
“Naw, something’s wrong with it then.” I scrape my teeth against my tongue and spit into the sink, repeatedly rinsing my mouth out under the faucet. Something’s not right. The more I scrape, the itchier it feels.
“You always were so dramatic. It’s mushroom coffee. It’s good for you?—”
“ Mushrooms ?” I screech, staring with the intense hope that she’s joking. “ Shit !”
“Hunter, language . And yes. It helps with focus and boosts your immune?—”
“It boosts my death date, is what it does. I’m allergic to mushrooms!” I yell, marching back toward the entryway. “Dad!” I call up the stairs.
“Oh, please, you’re not allergic. You’ve had mushrooms before.”
I whip around, keeping my hand on the banister so I don’t stomp back over and get in her face. “That’s how allergies work, Charlotte . One day you’re fine, and the next, you’re gasping for air on the kitchen floor…” My words garble as my tongue swells in my mouth. “ Dad !”
“Hunter, why are you yell—” Dad’s eyes widen when I turn to him, and he beelines it back up the stairs. “ Stay !” he booms over his shoulder, somehow knowing I was about to follow him.
I sit on the bottom step, staring at my hands to avoid looking at the Black Widow in the form of my mother. My lips feel puffy, and I want to claw at the itchiness in my eyes as they swell. A high-pitched stridor wheezes from my throat with each breath I take. Kneeling over the stairs, I try to heave in air. Dad rushes back down with an allergy pen in hand, and the diamond pattern tile swirls in a dizzying haze as I collapse on the entryway floor. I watch Dad jab the epinephrine through my plaid pajama pants, so worried about the lack of air I can barely feel the pinch.
“What happened?” he asks Mom.
“She…tried to…kill…me…” I rasp, each word harder to squeak out than the last. My heart pounds while looking at Mom’s wide-eyed expression, my T-shirt clinging to my sweat-soaked torso. Overwhelming panic surges over my rage as the edges of my vision fade.
“Hunter, just focus on breathing,” Dad says, laying me flat on the cool tiles. He slides my body around, using the stairs to elevate my legs, and sits next to me while checking my pulse. “Charlotte, call 9–1–1, and stay in the kitchen. We need him to be as calm as possible. That won’t happen as long as he’s looking at you. Now! Go now !”
After an eight-hour observation period, another anaphylactic attack, more epinephrine, and another eight hours of observation, I’m almost cleared to be discharged. I called it when I said Charlotte would ruin Christmas. What fucking audacity flows through her that she can confidently stand in front of my hospital bed right now ?
“How are you feeling?” Mom asks softly, putting a hand on my blanketed foot.
“Half dead.” My throat is rough and scratchy, my voice gruff.
She winces, shaking her head as she moves around the bed to stand at my side. “That’s not funny.”
“I’m not joking…”
“Hunter, if I would have known, I would have never?—”
“You shoulda known.”
“ How ? I haven’t seen you in years, Hunter, and you won’t speak to me otherwise.”
“And whose fault is that, Mom? Huh? If you wouldn’t have left me here to clean up your fucking mess, you would have known.” The monitor’s beeps increase with each word, a harsh, steady beat, only adding to the rage coursing through me. I set it free, my scowl deepening as I stare her down.
A tear slips from the corner of her eye. “Hunter, I didn’t want to leave you.”
“Bullshit.”
“You were sixteen, almost grown, and I thought you needed your dad more than you needed me. You were so angry . The way you looked at me was awful. I thought I was doing what was best for you, but I didn’t want to leave you. You’re my firstborn, and I love you in a way that can’t compare to your sister and brother.”
“Naw.” I shake my head. “You blamed me for telling Dad, took Artie away for revenge, and left a damn note on the fridge instead of saying goodbye.”
“No,” she gasps, reaching for my arm. I flinch out of her reach, and she moves in again, grasping my wrist firmly. “Hunter, none of this was your fault. I made these choices, I’m the one responsible for this. I was then, and I still am now. It was never your burden to carry; I shouldn’t have asked you to.” She takes a deep breath, eyes red with emotion. “Leaving the way I did was wrong, and I’ll spend however long it takes making up for it. This isn’t something I can fix in one trip, I know that, but I need you to hear how very sorry I am for leaving you. For ruining everything.”
Silent tears roll down her face as she says the words. They sound genuine and full of accountability, which would have worked when I was younger. Now, they do nothing to dissolve the hate filled crevice reserved for her in my heart. She’s saying the right things, but nothing in her behavior has suggested otherwise. My mother—the great deceiver—wants me to take her word for it. That is something I just can’t do. Not with her.
“You can leave now.” Turning my back on her, I face the window. I’ve said more words to her in the last twenty minutes than I have in the last ten years. There’s nothing left to say. “I’m tired.”
“Of course. You need your rest. I just came to give you this and say goodbye. Properly.” I look over my shoulder as she reaches into her oversized purse and places a large square-shaped present on the bedside table. “Theron is in the waiting room, wanting to say goodbye too, and then we’re headed back to Sweden a few days early.”
“Of course you are,” I huff, turning back to the window.
“Only until the divorce is final. Then we’re coming back to live in the states. New York or LA, I haven’t decided. But we are coming back, Hunter. I’ll do whatever I need to fix this. No more running.” She squeezes my shoulder, lingering for a moment before her heels click across the vinyl floor.
After discharge, I’m more than ready to go to my apartment and sleep. It’s almost two in the morning. I want my bed, my space, and some uninterrupted quiet. But Dad is a hard sell when I ask him to take me home.
“Not happening. And I already hid your keys. The doctor wants you observed for another twenty-four hours. I can’t do that if you’re holed up in your apartment alone.”
With the alternating light and dark shadows from the streetlights streaming into the car, I see the deep worry lines across his forehead. We’ve been through so much together. Apart from his depression after the divorce, he’s been a solid constant in my life—one of the best people I know.
“…Thanks, Dad,” I whisper, unsure of any other way to show my appreciation after all of the holiday chaos.
“Hey.” He puts his hand on my arm, juggling his gaze between the road and me. “I’m just glad you’re alright.” His smile doesn’t reach the exhaustion in his eyes. I don’t think he’s slept a wink since I’ve been in the hospital.
We’re met with bright lights and a detective rerun on the TV when we walk into the house. Kayla pops her head over the couch and waves as we come into view. Chase is standing in the kitchen, hooking up a brand-new coffee machine. I spot my phone on the counter, right where I left it.
“What are you two doing here?” I ask.
“We volunteered for the first round of ‘Hunter Duty.’” Kayla hops off the couch and wraps her arms around me with a squeeze. “Hey, big bro.”
“Hunter Duty?” My brows furrow as I hug her back. What kind of duty requires them being here at two in the morning ?
“Yeah. You two need sleep. We napped earlier, so we’ll stay up and check on you every hour. Make sure you don’t croak while you’re knocked out.” Chase chuckles, walking around the island and clapping me on the shoulder. “Glad you’re okay, man.”
The annoying burn behind my eyes from the concern in theirs sends me scurrying to hide. “ Aww …” I slap my hand to my heart sarcastically. “I’m gonna go shower.”
“There’s the Hunter we know and love,” Kayla mumbles, shaking her head. We drive each other nuts and bicker like we grew up together, but avoidance is something we have in common. Despite my discomfort, I give her another squeeze. An understanding smile lands on her face. She gets it, and I couldn’t ask for a better sister.
After almost falling asleep in the shower, the queen-sized mattress in my childhood bedroom feels like paradise. I barely had the strength to slip on pajama pants, foregoing a shirt. My head hits the pillow, and I’m shaken awake in what feels like seconds. Groggy like I slept for a decade, I squint against the brightness streaming through my window. My heart skips a beat.
“Ash? What are you doing here?” Her golden-brown curls glow in the sunlight, the ends brushing her pink velour zip-up. The spark of her fingers caressing my arm is the only clue I’m not dreaming.
“Your dad made breakfast and asked me to bring it up to you.” She smiles, but worry fills her eyes. “I didn’t realize your allergy was that severe… How are you feeling?”
“It’s not airborne for me, just can’t touch or eat them.” Slowly, I anchor my back against the slatted headboard, draping an arm across my bare chest. “Drinking them is generally frowned upon too,” I joke to lighten the mood. But her face falls, and I feel like an ass. “I’m alright, Ash. Tired.”
Hunger pangs scatter through my stomach when she hands me a plate of bacon and eggs. She settles on the edge of the bed, next to my feet. Too far away .
“Oh!” My phone buzzes as she slides it from her jacket. “I almost forgot… Chase charged it while you were sleeping.”
“Are they still here?”
“Nope, they left about an hour ago. It’s just me.” She flashes a timid grin.
“Which leads me back to my original question. What are you doing here?”
“My flight got in at seven-thirty, and I came right over.” Shrugging, she drops her eyes to the navy bedspread. “I’m on Hunter Duty.”
“Yeah?” A smirk tugs at my lips. “For how long?”
Her cheeks flush, each shallow breath drawing my attention to her chest. She bites her thumbnail and slides her eyes to mine. “For as long as you want me.”
What is that look ?
Our dynamic feels different somehow. I try not to fidget as the charge shifts in the air, but my dick misses the memo. I’m just a fucking horndog . Shit . Nothing’s changed, and now I’m a creep. Breaking our stare, I tap my phone, halted by several missed messages from Ashlie. “You, uh…texted me a lot yesterday…”
“Yeah, well, that was before I found out you were terrorizing the nurses in the hospital. You were stuck with your mom all week. I wanted to check on you.”
“ Aww , you were worried about me?” I tease, smirking.
“ Whew , yeah, don’t know what came over me…” She rolls her eyes, but I don’t miss the smile on her face. We sit in silence while I eat my breakfast, until a yawn slips out of my mouth. “I should go back downstairs and let you get more sleep.”
Don’t leave .
She pushes off the bed, and I lunge for her wrist. “Wait!” The sun illuminating her freckles makes me flounder for an excuse for her to stay. “We, um…could watch funny videos?” I say slowly, finally gesturing to the flat screen mounted on the wall. It’s the best I can come up with, but the smile spreading across her face is akin to striking gold.
“Yeah, okay. But if you get tired, you better tell me…”
“Just come over here.” I scoot as she sheds her jacket and climbs in. Electric currents buzz through me when she settles against my arm, the undeniable urge to intertwine our fingers almost too hard to resist. But we’re finally past everything that happened at the lodge. Making this friendly moment into something more will send her running for the hills faster than she ran from my room that morning. More than ever, I want her to stay.