45. Hunter
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
HUNTER
“ H ey,” Chase claps me on the shoulder. “Don’t look so sad. One more week, and I’ll give the spotlight back to you.” The bright lights in the alteration room at Tom’s Tuxedo Parlor augment my sullen reflection in the wall of mirrors.
“Funny,” I murmur, knocking him in the ribs with my elbow. He chuckles as he steps to the side, adjusting his tie. Kayla had this dumbass idea for them to spend the week before the wedding apart from each other. Something about distance and the heart growing fonder. So Chase is here in LA for the week, while she’s in Fort Bender. With Ashlie . Fuck distance . It can kiss my ass .
I turn to the side and straighten my jacket, checking the fit before reaching around my neck to secure my tie. The beige silk shines as it glides through my fingers, and all my attention locks in on forming a Windsor knot. When I look back in the mirror, Chase is watching me, all the humor in his face replaced by worry. “You talk to Ash?”
“Naw.” I finish up with the tie and head for the leather lounge chairs. As soon as I hit the seat, my head falls into my hands, and I breathe out a strained sigh. The closer we get to the wedding, the more stressed I am. What if she’s changed her mind ?
Chase takes the seat across from me. “Man, if I knew you were the other guy, I wouldn’t have encouraged Trevor so much. What happened?”
“She asked for space.” I shrug, straightening in the chair. Tom’s is the last place I want to get into this.
“Come on, Hunt. It’s me . You think I don’t know when you’re hiding shit? Stop shutting down and walk me back. What happened?”
I rub my fingers across my forehead, pressing hard like it’ll help me condense five years’ worth of pining into a minute long synopsis. Chase kicks my Oxford, somehow tapping the correct cobblestone to unlock the secret passageway. Everything spills out. All the missing details from the night five years ago, Halloween, the lodge, and New Year’s. I ignore his bulging eyes when I describe the bet. And once I tell him about the hotel in San Francisco, his hand settles over his mouth as if he’s trying to hold the words in.
Eyes stinging, I massage my temples, hoping to stop whatever this is threatening to spill down my cheeks. Frustration ? Sorrow ? Who the hell knows anymore ? Tears falling in my apartment is one thing, but I draw the line at it happening in an overpriced tuxedo shop.
“Okay,” he says slowly. “So you had the bet”—he grimaces, clearly disagreeing with that choice—“dated, and wooed. Did you ever tell her how you feel about her?
“I tried to tell her I love her in San Francisco, but she freaked.”
“Yeah, well, you went from friends to a fun dating bet to ‘I love you’ in the span of a couple of months. You changed the dynamic too fast.”
“I know I did.” I groan. “I knew she was scared, but I pushed her anyway and fucked it all up. Now she wants nothing to do with me.” Tipping my head back, my hands cover the wetness leaking from my eyes. Apparently, the line of propriety has moved, and the tuxedo shop is an acceptable place to cry.
“Asking for space doesn’t mean she’s done with you.”
“Fucking feels like it…” I mumble through my fingers. “Bruh, I can’t breathe. Can’t think. It’s been weeks, and I still see her smile every time I close my eyes. Knowing Ash doesn’t want me around feels like a hot blade being twisted in my chest. I’m fucking miserable.”
“Hunt...” He jostles me as he moves into the chair next to mine. “Did you talk about this in your session last week?”
“Damn it .” I drop my hands. “Was I supposed to?”
An exasperated sigh rumbles through his lips. “Yeah, man. That’s the whole point, getting everything off your chest so you can address it.”
“How was I supposed to know that? All this shit is new to me.” After that call with my mom, I couldn’t get myself together for days. I was so desperate, I called my dad’s psychologist to make sure I wasn’t losing it. Turns out, all the shit I’ve been pushing down for years couldn’t be held off any longer, and the remedy is feeling it. Oh, and I have ADHD.
“Look, space just means she needs a minute. This isn’t about you, Hunt. Hey…” He knocks me with his elbow until I look at him, then places a hand on my shoulder with a pointed stare. A silent conversation passes between us, one that only he and I could ever understand. He saw first-hand how bad it was for me after the divorce, the blame I assigned myself, how scared I was. How scared I am . “It’s. Not. You.”
Heaving a sputtering breath, I plant my elbows on my knees. “She said she wasn’t ready. What if she never is?”
“You can’t think like that, Hunt.” He sighs. “You know her. Just give her a little time.”
“But what if she doesn’t come back to me, Chase?” The thought alone makes my voice shake. “What the hell would I do? She’s it for me.”
“You have to tell her exactly how serious this is for you. No more games. No bets . Help her bridge that gap so she has no space to question how you feel about her. And don’t stop telling her once you finally do have her.”
“She asked for space until after the wedding. I can’t just say all of that after a month of nothing.” I wipe my face and straighten up in the chair. The tears were short-lived, but damn it if I don’t feel a little better. “And there’s still the Trevor issue.”
His eyebrows dip. “What Trevor issue? They’re?—”
“Sorry I’m late!” Trevor comes from behind the wall of mirrors, and my face drops. I knew he was coming, but seeing him when I know he still gets to be around Ashlie pushes a wave of indignation throughout my body. “This new cohort needed a ton of guidance today. I have to run back to the office after this.”
“No worries, Trev.” Chase stands, slapping his hand with some cheesy grade school handshake. “Your tux is in that room over there. I’ll grab Tom.”
He leaves me and Trevor—the loser and the winner, the unpredictable storm and the reliable ray of sunshine—to settle the score. I make no attempts to be cordial, hoping he’ll get the hint and take his ass into the dressing room.
“Hey, bro, uh,” he says, taking a step toward me. “Look, I didn’t know you were the other guy. If I had, I would have bowed out long before I did.”
Confusion scrunches my face. “What do you mean?” He bowed out ? Of what ? When ?
“Yeah, I broke things off after the bar fight. I can’t compete with what you two have going on.”
“We’re not—We don’t have anything going on anymore.”
Now he looks confused. “Oh… You’re not seeing Ashlie?” he asks.
“Not at the moment. You’re not seeing Ashlie?”
“Nope, we decided we’re better as friends. I figured she would have told you…”
I shake my head slowly. Is he fucking with me ? I never pegged Trevor as the mind game type, but this would be a good way to do it. Kick me when I’m already down.
“I just wanted to make sure there are no hard feelings.” His hand gestures between us like he’s physically clearing the air.
“So, you’re not dating?” My heart beats a tick faster as I try to keep the hopeful tone from rising in my voice.
The confused look on his face eases into an amicable smile, giving me the last bit of confirmation I need. “Nope. Just friends.”
I laugh, cover it quickly with my hand, and laugh again. He hasn’t been getting closer to her in the last month. I still have a chance .
“Well, since no one’s dating Ash, that only means one thing.” Chase steps into the room with a conspiratorial look in his eyes. “My wedding has unofficially become Operation: Get Hunter and Ashlie together.”
I shake my head. “That’s a horrible name.”
“Yeah…” Trevor trills. “That’s not good at all, man.”
“Oh, you guys have something better?”
“Operation: Hushlie?” Trevor offers.
“ The fuck ? Does it have to have a name?” I ask.
“We have tuxedos and a secret mission. I’m pretty sure we have to name it,” Trevor says.
“Pretty sure it’s in the handbook.” Chase nods enthusiastically.
“What fucking handbook?”
“The ‘Pretending to be Super Spies Because We’ll be in Tuxedos’ handbook. Operation: Hushlie is the inaugural mission.” Trevor nods like this isn’t the dumbest conversation we’re having.
“How old are we? Nine? You two are idiots. Don’t call it that.”
“Then what should we call it, Hunt?” Chase raises his eyebrows, challenging me to play along.
“Hell, I don’t know. Literally anything else.”
“Like…?” Trevor jumps in on the challenge.
I think about it, and only one name comes to mind. It won’t make sense to either of them, but the more I think about it, the more perfect of a name it is.
“Operation: Sunshine,” I say finally. They pause and turn toward each other, matching smiles creeping across their faces.
“Operation: Sunshine it is!” Chase chuckles and turns back toward his dressing room, loosening his tie as he goes.
“Nice name. I feel good about that one.” Trevor holds a fist toward me. I shake my head as I bump his knuckles with mine, letting out a little snort. Without the lens of jealousy clouding my judgment, I can see why everyone gets along with him.