Chapter 11
Theo
I’m not sure how I ended up here. How we ended up here. One second Hunter was smiling at me, and the next he was touching my hair, and then my fingers were tangled in his shirt and in his hair, and my mouth was on his.
His lips part under mine, and a hungry groan echoes through the barn. It takes far too long to realize it was me who made that noise. Fuck, I haven’t done this in so long. I let my hand fall from Hunter’s shirt and press closer, closer, closer until my chest is flush with his.
His hand slides into my hair, thumb resting against my temple, as he wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me impossibly closer.
My stomach flips and my heart races at that. He’s not pushing me away. He’s pulling me closer, sinking his tongue past my lips, moaning against my mouth.
My body goes up in flames. It’s been entirely too long since I’ve felt this rush.
Since I’ve felt this heat. How fucking perfect that it’s Hunter.
How tragic. I’ve been open with Hunter because it’s easy knowing that I’m only here for a week, and for the first time since I got here, I find myself regretting that.
His thumb brushes my cheek, and a shiver racks my body.
Perfection. This is perfection.
I’m too lost in it to realize that his arm is gone, that instead of pulling me closer, his hand is skating up the bare skin of my side.
The cool air rushing in pulls me to my senses, but not quickly enough, and he grips my hip, his thumb brushing the raised scar that runs jagged and ugly and terrible across my stomach.
I wrench away from him with a gasp. “Don’t touch me.”
Hunter holds his hands up in the air, his eyes wide and his chest heaving. “I’m sorry.”
I squeeze my eyes closed, fresh shame rushing in. Shame, shame, shame. Always fucking shame. “I…”
“I’m sorry,” he repeats.
Shaking my head, I draw in a deep breath. “It’s my fault. I forgot to tell you.” Was I even going to tell him? Probably not, truthfully.
“About your scar?” he says softly.
My body goes cold, but I open my eyes. He’s staring at me in concern, the warm browns and greens of his eyes slowly tracing my face. “Yeah. You felt it.” There’s something else in them too… something I can’t quite name. “You don’t seem… I mean—you’re not—”
Hunter takes a step toward me, and I take a step back. Why isn’t he shocked? I know he felt it. I know he did. Why isn’t he reacting?
The question rattles around in my head, getting louder and louder until I can’t shove it down. My breath comes in ragged pants, and my stomach is twisted into knots, until I come to the only realization I can.
“You knew,” I somehow manage to choke out. He had to have. There’s no way someone is going to feel the awful, terrible scar that represents the worst parts of me and not react. He’s too calm. Too knowing. It’s easy to see in his expression. “Did you see it? My scar? You must have seen it.”
Hunter’s face screws up into a grimace. “Theo…” His voice is apologetic. It makes my stomach churn. Why is he saying my name like that? Like he pities me. I don’t want his fucking pity.
“No!” I practically scream. “Don’t fucking say my name like that. Like you feel sorry for me.”
He takes a step forward, and I take another step away, not stopping until my back hits the wood of the stall door behind me. I have nowhere to go, and I hate feeling trapped. My eyes scan my surroundings, trying to find my escape route. I just need a fucking way to escape.
“Theo, I’m not going to hurt you.” He sounds upset that I’d even think he might. Well, fuck him. He moves back until he’s far enough away that I have breathing room. Until he’s far enough away that he’s no longer blocking my exit.
“Did you see it?” I ask again. He had to have. Maybe my shirt rode up, or I wasn’t careful enough. It’s not exactly fucking easy to hide a scar that runs the entire length of your torso. “In bed? Is that how?”
He exhales a slow breath. “No. I didn’t see it.” Relief makes my knees weak. At least until he drops his gaze and says, “Not in bed, anyway.”
It takes a second for the words to register. “What the fuck does that mean?”
Hunter hangs his head, his eyes glued to the dirt in front of him. “I saw it in your file.”
My file? My file.
My blood freezes, and a high-pitched ringing starts in my ears as I sway on my feet. For a terrifying moment when my stomach lurches, I’m sure I’m going to throw up.
“How did you see my file?” I rasp out, my throat threatening to close up. “It was supposed to be confidential.”
His head snaps up. “It was, but I had to look at it. I had to review your case.”
I stare at him.
Blink.
Blink again.
My heart splinters in my chest. I’m almost sure I can hear it. Can he? Can the horses? Is the whole fucking world privy to the state of my fucking life? To the abuse I suffered? To the way I almost lost my fucking life trying to get away from Damien?
“What do you mean you had to review the case?” He opens his mouth to speak, but I barrel on, not letting him. “You work on a farm. You shovel shit. You feed animals. In what fucking world are you ‘reviewing a case’?”
Hunter’s jaw tightens, his hands flexing at his sides, but he doesn’t say anything.
“Answer me!” I practically demand. “How does a shit-shoveling, horse-riding country boy get their hands on confidential case files?”
I’m losing it. I know I am, but I can’t stop it.
“I didn’t always work here,” Hunter says slowly. Carefully. Like he’s trying not to scare me. “Not until after my dad died.” His throat bobs heavily with a swallow, his eyes anywhere but on me. “Before that, I was a deputy at the sheriff’s office.”
My world tilts on its axis, all the things I thought I knew and understood about Hunter burning away before my very eyes. “What?” The word barely makes it past my throat.
“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, like that somehow makes this better. Like it somehow fixes anything.
“You’re sorry? You…” My voice cracks, and tears well up in my eyes. “You knew? You saw it? Those photos of me? You saw them?”
He nods. Short and concise.
The nod hurts. I don’t even know why, not in any real way. But it feels like a gunshot detonating between us, splintering me with shrapnel.
“You saw those photos… You—you saw me… like that.”
To his credit, he doesn’t deny it. “Yes.”
My chest caves in. “The whole time? When you met me, when I got here, you already knew about me? You knew why I was coming to visit Luca?”
He nods again.
“I—” I lean over, bracing my hands on my knees as my breath punches from my lungs. “I kissed you. I slept in your bed. I told you things about myself. About Damien. About my depression. And you…” I choke on my next inhale, my throat closing up. “You knew,” I gasp. “The whole time.”
“Yes,” he whispers.
I force myself to stand. “I don’t understand.”
And I don’t. None of this makes sense to me. Not a single bit of it. My eyes are burning, and Hunter is blurry.
“I told you things,” I repeat. “I trusted you. And you—”
His bottom lip quivers, and that hurts too. Everything about this fucking hurts. “I’m sorry, Theo. I wanted to give you the chance to tell me on your own.”
I laugh. It’s broken and loud and all wrong. Nothing like the carefree laughs that spilled from me as I rode Molls. “But you already knew. You already knew the most awful, worst thing I’ve ever lived through! You fucking knew, and you lied to me.”
He shakes his head. “I didn’t lie to you, Theo. I just wanted you to have the space to tell me on your own.”
“That’s worse. You see how that’s worse? I trusted you. You made me trust you. I don’t fucking trust people. It’s a fucking trauma response. You know, from when my fucking husband tried to murder me in cold fucking blood.”
My voice breaks, rage and humiliation fighting for control of me. I can’t even tell which one hurts more.
“You let me trust you. Was it fun? Was it fun for you to get little pieces of me? Was it fun watching me feel safe while you knew the whole time? Did you have a good time making me feel normal for five goddamn minutes before everything came crashing down around me?”
His jaw drops open, his eyes flashing with hurt. “Of course not,” he whispers, his voice raw. “Do you really think that?”
I shake my head. Then nod. My eyes are burning, but I refuse to cry, and especially not in front of him. Bile crawls up the back of my throat as I lose the battle, and the tears building in my eyes finally spill over. “I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what to believe.”
He takes a step toward me, but I’m already as far away as I can be, so I hold my hand up, hoping and fucking praying that he doesn’t come closer.
“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “I thought if I told you that I already knew, you’d feel exposed. Like I’d taken something from you.”
A sob rips its way out of my throat. “But you did, Hunter. You did take something from me. Don’t you see that? How can you not see that?”
He stills, his eyes losing all their light.
Somehow, even that hurts, and when he whispers a choked-off, “I’m so sorry, Theo. I was trying to protect you,” it goes from hurt to full-blown agony.
“I have to leave. I have to go home.”
He shakes his head, his eyes welling with tears. “No. Please don’t leave. You’re upset right now. You shouldn’t be driving like this.”
Rage fills all the spots inside me that my agony isn’t already taking up. “Don’t you think you’ve already decided enough fucking things for me?”
I don’t even give him a chance to answer. I dart past him, my heart in my throat. Making a wide path so he can’t grab me, I rush from the barn. I stumble through the grass, everything in front of me dancing and waving as the unrelenting tears pouring from my eyes threaten my vision.
When I push open the door, Millie calls out our names, but I ignore her and sprint up the stairs. In my rented bedroom, I throw all my belongings into my suitcase, zipping it up quickly with shaking fingers.