16. Ella
Sixteen
Ella
Weeks had blurred together in a haze of desperate apartment hunting, unanswered messages, and places smelling like mold.
In the end, it hadn’t been about choice. It’d been about survival, and survival had led me here, suitcase in hand, breath fogging in the winter air.
I dropped the strand of hair I’d been twisting around my fingers before taking a deep breath.
My boots slapped against the concrete, slick with salt and ice melt, as I hopped out of my brother’s humongous truck.
It was colder than a witch’s tit out here. The wind sliced through my hoodie like it wasn’t even there, and my fingers burned from cold plastic handles biting into my skin.
Moving sucked in general, but moving while it was below freezing? Fucking shoot me.
My breath puffed up in little clouds, quick and visible, as I surveyed the big suburban house before me. I’d been here before, but it looked so different, surrounded by the gloom of winter.
I was balancing a suitcase and juggling two overstuffed laundry bags, shuffling up to the house, making sure I wasn’t accidentally stepping on a rogue patch of ice.
The front door opened before I could even set down my stuff to knock.
Had he been waiting? Watching?
I gave him a quick once-over, trying to school my features, but there was undoubtedly a flush creeping into my cheeks.
Jesus fucking Christ. If he walked around looking like this all the time, I was in huge trouble.
Hunter was barefoot, gray joggers riding low on his hips, and a white fitted tee hugging his massive torso.
His dark blond hair was slightly damp, like he’d just showered.
Fuck me. Literally, please do.
As always, his face was unreadable. “You’re late.”
There was zero indication in his voice of how he was feeling about the situation. Was it an observation? A reprimand? A reminder?
Spin the wheel, I guess, because I had no fucking clue.
“Nice to see you too, roomie,” I quipped before attempting to scoot past him, a sarcastic smile stretching my lips to hide the nerves swirling in my stomach.
Wordlessly, he snatched the main share of the load I was carrying out of my arms and carried it into the house. Hot . I could get behind a man who took charge.
I followed him inside. The floors were gleaming, and my boots squeaked on the smooth hardwood. The scent of clean laundry and lavender lingered in the air.
What a coincidence .
Never judge a book by its cover. Men were allowed to have fucking scented candles as well.
In fact, I’d much rather have them own half a Bath & Body Works than endure the smell of dirty socks. Or worse, their gear.
The memory of the stench of Dom’s gear drifting through our childhood home made me shudder. I took in the space, my eyes flicking from left to right.
It looked just like every other time I’d been here — as if nobody actually lived here.
The thermostat was the top priority, no question about it. It might even prompt Hunter to take off some of his clothes. I wouldn’t complain.
I was already thinking about little ways I could make this house feel like home. Maybe a few changes here and there, if Hunter would let me.
A loud bang snapped me out of my thoughts as Dom trampled into the living room with the grace of a hungover moose in flip-flops.
“Okay, Serial Killer Chic. Love the vibe. You know, I still have no idea how he actually affords this place,” he grunted, the boxes he had stacked in his arms obstructing his view of Hunter still standing at the bottom of the stairs.
He turned his head to give my brother a look, suggesting he was clearly less than impressed and mildly irritated by his presence.
“Wasn’t aware that’s any of your business, bro.”
Dom startled, almost losing his grip on the cardboard. “Jesus Christ, why do you never make any sounds? It’s creepy, dude. I told you to stop doing that!”
“Yeah, not going to happen. You can leave the boxes at the door. I’ll take care of them.”
Why was my stomach fluttering? He was talking about taking care of the boxes, for fuck’s sake, not anything else.
Dom lowered the boxes and gave him a lazy grin. “We should really work on your hospitality skills.”
“Pass.”
“You sure you want to carry all her shit? I mean, she’s my sister—”
A muscle in Hunter’s jaw twitched. “Yeah, I’ll take carrying a couple of boxes if it means your ass isn’t in my house anymore,” he said almost lazily. “You can go now.”
The corner of Dom’s mouth twitched, like I’d missed an inside joke. “Anything you wanna tell me, bro?”
“Get out?” Hunter quirked a brow.
They stared at each other for a long moment before Dom chuckled.
He shook his head, his eyes sparkling with amusement, like he’d just solved a puzzle he’d been trying to figure out for a long time.
“Yeah, alright,” he said easily, staring Hunter right in the eye. “I’ll see you at practice.”
What the actual fuck was going on here?
Then he turned to me. “You good?”
“Yup. All good. You can leave.”
Considering this was pretty much my only option for having a roof over my head — and a fucking nice one at that — I could not fuck this up in any way.
I’d known what I was getting myself into when it came to Hunter. I knew he was particular about some things, so I’d do everything I could to make this arrangement as comfortable for him as possible.
My brother was still standing at the door, brows raised, like he didn’t quite believe me.
“Just go. I’m sure Sierra is waiting.” I made a shooing motion with my hands, and as expected, the mention of his girlfriend was the only motivation he needed to vacate the premises.
Dom’s eyes flicked to Hunter. “Gonna drop the rest of her stuff off on the porch. That work for you?”
All he got was a sharp nod before Hunter began climbing the stairs with ease, like he wasn’t carrying two of my humongous bags. Holy shit, this dude was strong.
After giving Dom a brief hug and murmuring a “Thanks” for his help, I slowly walked toward the stairs.
Something was coiling tight in my stomach as I stared up to where Hunter had disappeared to.
The sound of Dom’s truck departing spurred me into motion, and before I knew it, I’d climbed the stairs.
Hunter stepped through the door to my new room, just as I was about to walk through, causing us to almost collide.
He jerked out of my way before we actually made contact.
“My bad.” I laughed airily.
His gaze pierced me for a second, then he moved past me. Okay, then.
Stepping inside, I took in the room, furnished like it, too, came straight out of a magazine.
The dark olive green comforter, incidentally my favorite color, was perfectly smoothed, and the corners were sharply tucked.
A scented candle stood on the bedside table and, as I got closer, I could read the label: Lavender.
Huh. Maybe this explains where the lavender scent was coming from.
There was a beautiful, ornate, gold-framed mirror hanging on the wall. Smiling, I did a little twirl.
A plush reading chair sat in the corner, a soft-looking blanket folded over its edge.
Unable to resist, I ran my fingers over the fabric, a little “oooh” escaping my lips as I discovered just how silky soft it was.
Surprisingly, the room looked lived in, aside from its almost disturbing pristine-ness, of course. But I knew for a fact no one had lived here since Colt moved out, and I knew for a fact this wasn’t how Colt had this room furnished.
Hailey had sent me selfies from his place often enough for me to be certain.
I turned back to the door as Hunter returned, silent as a shadow, carrying more boxes than should be humanly possible.
“You didn’t have to do all this…” I trailed off, unsure of what exactly was going on here.
Was I imagining this? Reading too much into things?
“Wasn’t me. Hailey left that stuff behind,” Hunter replied, his voice flat, as he set down the boxes. I was almost certain this was a lie.
“Okay, but the candle ?” I probed, watching his face for any kind of reaction.
“She liked the scent.” He shrugged.
Doubtful. Hailey always liked the coconut-scented ones better.
“Right.” I smiled, trying not to let any of my suspicions show on my face.
My heart didn’t care, skipping a beat at the thought of Hunter doing something nice for me anyway. I wasn’t sure if nice was actually the right word.
“So you didn’t touch anything?”
“Not unless I had to.” His expression gave nothing away. He wasn’t even blinking.
I continued to stare at him, trying to read his face, but it was locked down. Robot mode engaged.
“Okay. Well, thank you anyway for, you know,” I gestured around, “all this.”
He just turned around with another nod, disappearing from view again to fetch the rest of my belongings and giving me a perfect view of the expanse of his broad back.
I could get used to that .
Of course, I’d been getting used to that in my head for years.
Imaginary boyfriends, imaginary perfect moments. Safer than risking the real thing after what went down in high school.
It wasn’t as though I thought Hunter liked me. It was just … habit.
Safer to pretend.
***
If there was one thing I hated about winter, it was how early the sun set. I needed sunlight to thrive, dammit.
Gazing into the depressing darkness settling outside my window, I abandoned my half-unpacked suitcase. This whole day called for hot chocolate.
Skipping down the stairs, my hand skimming the railing, when the shadowed corner in the hallway caught my eye like a memory came to life.
My breath hitched, and a fluttering sensation carried through my chest.
The press of a body behind me, hard and hot.
A hand across my mouth — fast, sure, but not cruel.
The velvet-dark voice in my ear. Possessive. Reverent. Faintly familiar.
The scrape of teeth on my neck. The taste of fear interwoven with want.
My own surprising stillness . Every normal person would’ve screamed and tried to get away.
What kind of girl leaned into it instead? I should have been scared. Maybe I had been — for a second — but I’d never fought him.