Chapter 19 Hunter
Hunter
... Like anyone in their right mind would give up real life for small-town love...
Wes’s soft dismissal of the whole point of the movie was the only thought running through my head as the movie credits rolled and Wes drifted against me, warm and heavy with sleep. The truth of it twisted something in my chest.
Would anyone ever do that for me? For us? Leave behind everything they thought they wanted, all for a chance at something real. I wasn’t sure I believed it outside of movies, and yet with Wes pressed to me, murmuring about Santa and then collapsing into dreams, it didn’t feel impossible.
I wouldn’t be giving up anything to be with Wes—not really.
I had the offer of a role at North Hollow College waiting for me, a chance to pick up the career I thought I’d lost. But emotionally?
I wasn’t sure I could ever leave him. So, what did that mean?
That my dreams weren’t the job or the prestige, but the man sleeping with me, the quiet hum of this town, the possibility of something lasting.
I thought I’d been in love before—with Mark.
But that had been convenient, smoke and mirrors, nothing deep.
Comfortable, maybe, but not all-consuming.
Wes was different. He was under my skin, wrapped around my heart, had been part of me since the very first day we’d met under that balloon arch—Wesley dressed as Cupid on a freezing February fourteenth, and me licking my wounds, pretending I wasn’t broken.
From that moment, he’d been stitched into my story whether I admitted it or not.
Every story Wes had ever spun, every ridiculous tangent, every joke—I’d stored them all like treasures.
His smile could undo me, the way it lit up a room and somehow made everything inside me feel lighter.
And his eyes—God, the way they held me—all that dark brown shot through with gold that seemed to see straight past the defenses I’d built.
Being around him wasn’t comfortable convenience; it was terrifying, exhilarating, like standing at the edge of something vast and knowing if I fell, I’d fall forever.
That was love, real love, and for the first time in my life I knew I was already too far gone to step back.
I tightened the blanket around us, staring past the glow of the Christmas lights to the snow falling outside. Small-town love. Maybe it wasn’t the joke we all pretended it was. Maybe it was exactly what I wanted, though admitting that—even in my own head—felt dangerous.
I must have dozed, because the next thing I knew Wes stirred in my arms, blinking awake. I opened my eyes and froze. Ru was perched on the coffee table right in front of us. His expression gentle, and he smiled at us as though we were the most ordinary thing in the world.
“Hi,” he said.
He’d showered, clearly—his damp hair curling around his face—and he sat there in a borrowed sweatshirt and flannel pants I recognized as Wes’s.
There was color in his cheeks now, a fragile bloom of health returning, but his voice carried quiet vulnerability.
“I, uh, Wes, I’m sorry, but I borrowed some of your clothes,” he added, eyes darting from Wes to me.
Before I could even think about what to say, Wes was fierce. “Don’t you ever apologize for being here, or borrowing anything, Ru. This is your home as much as mine. That bed is yours until you don’t want it anymore.”
Ru’s eyes went wet, his mouth trembling. “But what do I do until I’m thirty?” The question was a weird one, because it wasn’t what I expected. Thirty seemed oddly specific.
Wes leaned forward, steady and sure. “You stay here in Wishing Tree, okay. You work with me if you want, or you find your dream if you don’t. You’re not doing this alone anymore.”
Ru’s chin wobbled. “I don’t have anything,” he whispered. “No money—”
“You have me,” Wes interrupted, fierce and certain. “And that’s enough.”
I found my voice then, leaning forward so Ru couldn’t mistake the conviction in it. “And you’ve got me, too. Maybe I’m not blood, but I’m here. You’re not alone, Ru—not anymore.”
Ru’s gaze flicked between us, uncertain. “You’re together then?”
Before I could get a word out, Wes jumped in. “For now,” he said quickly, then pushed to his feet with a burst of energy. “Come on, let’s get food. Bacon! You still love bacon, right? You’ve not gone all vegetarian?”
Ru gave a watery laugh, swiping at his eyes. “Yes, I love bacon. And no, I’m not a vegetarian.”
They headed into the kitchen together, leaving me in the front room. Wes’s words echoed in my head. For now. The phrase lodged under my ribs, sharp and aching. I needed to get my life together, to figure out what I could offer him that was more than temporary.
I stood, made my excuses, but not before squeezing Ru’s shoulder in passing and pulling Wes into a deep kiss I hoped he’d remember. “Later,” I whispered against his lips.
He nodded, then turned back toward the promise of sizzling bacon, and I let myself out.
Next door, I showered, scrubbing off the weight of the night but not the ache in my chest. Once the morning rush had eased, I sat alone in my office, the quiet pressing in around me.
My inbox glowed with two messages: a conditional offer from LA, shiny and tempting, and a simpler request to call the dean at North Hollow.
I stared at them both until my heart got sick of me, until the screen blurred and my head hurt.
And then, finally, I made a call.
The bell above the bookstore door jingled, and for a second, all I noticed was the chime.
I stepped inside with three coffees in hand—one black, the way I liked it, and two with as much cream as I could manage because I wasn’t sure what Ru would want.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Ru tucked into a far corner, and I lifted the extra cup in his direction, and he gave me a small wave. That steadied me.
I crossed to the counter, where Wes waited, and I set all three cups down between us, trying to find my courage. My palms were slick, my pulse stupidly fast, as if I’d rehearsed this a dozen times and still couldn’t get it right.
“Uhm… how’s Ru?”
Ru piped up from behind me before Wes could even answer. “Ru’s doing fine,” he said, scooping up the black coffee from the counter with a quick grin. He took a sip, then grinned widely. “Wow, that’s good coffee.”
Wes reached for one of the cream-heavy cups. “Heathen,” he said. “Everyone knows you need to add cream.”
“Wes drinks the froufrou ones with cream and sprinkles, so I brought you one like his in case you have the same brotherly curse.”
“God no, black all the way,” Ru said and took another sip, with a satisfied sigh.
Wes let out a dramatic groan, throwing an arm across his eyes. “You and I cannot be brothers. I live for cream and sprinkles, and you’re clearly an impostor.”
Ru chuckled, shaking his head, but there was relief in his expression at the banter.
Wes grew quiet, something unreadable in his eyes.
Nerves tightened my chest, and before I could speak, Ru looked between us as if he could feel the weight in the air.
“I’ll, uhmm… go check out a book or something,” he mumbled, pushing away from the counter.
He headed off toward the shelves, glancing over his shoulder as he went, making sure we were okay before giving us space.
“Morning,” I said.
Wes narrowed his eyes. “We already did the whole morning thing. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” I murmured, flushing as he studied me. “I just wanted to ask you something.”
He looked wary, and for a second I saw his guard go up. “What?” he asked.
I laughed nervously and ran a hand through my hair. “Would you go on a date with me tonight? Dinner. Somewhere special. And, uh—” I hesitated, wincing. “You’d probably need to wear a suit.”
His whole expression shifted, relief and light breaking through, and when he said yes, my chest loosened for the first time all day. Brooke’s inevitable wolf-whistle followed when I kissed him across the counter, and I couldn’t even bring myself to care. Because Wes had said yes.