Chapter 32
Theo
Taking the brush from Hunter, I step closer to Molls so I can brush her coat. We had a perfect afternoon riding.
The last few days have really drained me, but I figure that’s par for the course with a new job. It’s fun, though, and I’m truly enjoying working with Luca. Surprisingly, I’m also enjoying my time with Arlo.
Luca tends to work more in the kitchen, but I’m on the floor with Arlo a lot. He’s a spitfire, and young too. Younger than Luca, Austin, and Hunter. He seems weary, though. Exhausted by life and trying his best to act like he’s not.
No one else seems to notice it, but I do. Whatever secrets he’s carrying are wearing him down.
“What are you thinking about over there?” Hunter asks, distracting me from my task.
“Huh?” I ask, looking up to find him brushing Lucky.
He nods toward me. “You’ve got that little crease between your eyebrows.”
“I get a crease between my eyebrows?”
Humming, he smiles. “Sure do. Especially when you’re thinking real hard.”
I go back to brushing Molls. “I’m just thinking about the diner and Luca and Arlo.”
“I’m glad you’re enjoying working there.”
“Me too.”
The truth is, Silverpine feels like home to me. And each time I find something new for myself here—Hunter, Luca and Arlo, the diner—something new inside of me slots into place.
Sure, it’s full of small-town charm, and all the people I’ve met have been incredibly kind, but it’s also just…
I feel more like me when I’m here. I haven’t really felt like me in a long time.
Sometimes I’m not even sure I know who I am.
Not outside of Damien and depression. The last time I remember feeling like myself was when I was a teenager, and now.
.. Now, I feel like I’m finally starting to figure out who I am.
Kinda pathetic, really, but here we are anyway.
“Do you wanna go to dinner with me?”
I look at Hunter to find him watching me with a hopeful smile on his lips. “Dinner?”
He nods. “Tonight. We could dress up a little fancy and go into the city and eat together.”
A smile tugs at my lips. “The city?”
Hunter grins. “The next town over. Believe it or not, they have a really nice steakhouse over there. They even have a wine menu.”
My stomach drops out. Alcohol—wine in particular—is such a trigger for me. I don’t think Hunter would ever hurt me, but I’ve also never seen him drink.
“Whoa, hey,” Hunter says, setting down the brush he’s holding as he steps toward me. Warm fingers touch my face, and it takes me too long to realize I’m nearly hyperventilating. “Breathe, sweetheart. We don’t have to go out.”
I shake my head, trying to regulate my emotions. “It’s not that.”
His thumbs ghost over my cheekbones, and I inhale deeply.
The scent of hay and dirt is clinging to his hands, and, by all accounts, it should be gross, but more than anything, it’s grounding.
So I close my eyes and breathe in deeper.
Finally, after focusing hard on the smells around me and the soft brushing of Hunter’s fingers on my face, my breathing returns to normal.
I open my eyes to find Hunter watching me with concern. “You okay?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
“Like I said,” Hunter says carefully. “We don’t have to go out.”
“I want to,” I rush to say. “But… I don’t want to drink.” I stop just short of telling him I don’t want him to, either.
I think he picks up on it all on his own, though, because his eyes soften with understanding and he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. “I won’t, either.”
Between one breath and the next, I’m wrapped in his arms. I sink my face into his throat and breathe him in. He smells so good that it’s nearly intoxicating.
“Damien drank a lot. Wine, specifically. My scar…”
Memories rush through me. Telling Damien I wanted a divorce. Him drinking wine the whole time. More and more wine. The bottle being slammed against the counter. Broken glass spraying all over the floor, mixing with the red of my blood and the wine.
The way the glass felt when he…
The pain. The searing, all-consuming pain. The numbness.
“Breathe, sweetheart,” Hunter says again, his hand making circles on my back. “There you go. Good. In and out.”
“It was a wine bottle,” I somehow manage to choke out. “My scar. I told him…” I pause, breathing in another deep noseful of Hunter’s scent. “I told him I wanted a divorce.”
Hunter doesn’t talk; he just tightens his grip on my waist with one arm and keeps gently rubbing my back with the other.
“It was fine. I thought it was fine.” I squeeze my eyes closed. “It wasn’t. He was calm when I told him. Too calm. I should have known. As soon as I was done talking, he…”
Running his fingertips up my spine, Hunter slips his fingers into my hair, holding me against him. I’m shaking, I think. Damn near trembling like a leaf in his arms. He doesn’t waver; he just holds me, strong and steady as the day is long.
I follow the even rise and fall of his chest with my own breathing. In and out. In and out.
“You don’t have to tell me,” Hunter says, his voice low and soothing in my ear.
“I know. I want to… Is that okay?”
“Anything you want is okay.”
I nod. “Alright.”
For a while, I’m quiet, and he just holds me. I find strength in his arms. Strength to go on, to tell this awful story.
“I was already fucked up and bruised. I had three broken ribs. That’s why I wanted to leave him…
I was just… so fucking tired of it.” Hunter sways us lightly back and forth, his fingers putting gentle pressure on my scalp.
“I told him over dinner. He was drinking wine. He always did. He listened; he seemed receptive. Told me he understood, and then as soon as I—I started to clean up after dinner, and he… He broke the bottle on the counter. Came after me. The glass hurt. It hurt so bad.”
My voice is shaking, and I don’t think I can keep talking or it’s going to ruin my entire day. I don’t want Damien to ruin my day. He took too many of my days away from me. I won’t let him take this one too.
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” Hunter whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re so fucking strong.”
I didn’t feel very strong. Not back then. But now? Now, I think maybe he’s right. I fought my ass off to stay alive. Fought with everything I had. I still lost. At least in the moment. Hunter was right, though. In the end, I won.
Sniffling, I pull away from him. Just far enough to look into his eyes. The warm hazel is glassy, tears clinging to his lower lashes. For the first time ever, I reach up, brushing his tears away.
He lets out a wet laugh, then catches my hand in his and brings it to his lips to press a lingering kiss on my knuckles.
When he pulls it from his mouth, my stomach flutters. “I’m sorry for dragging the mood down, but I’d very much like to go out tonight if you still want to.”
A breathtaking smile spreads across his face. “I’d love to.”
He draws me into him for a kiss, his fingers still buried in my hair, and I sigh against his mouth, sinking into his warmth.
Hunter looks incredible. His hair is swept back, the normally fluffy waves styled and smooth. His dark wash jeans are tight around his thigh muscles, and I’d have to be blind to not notice the way they cup his dick. It’s unreal how attractive he is.
I fixed my hair without looking in the mirror. Staring at myself isn’t fun for me, and especially not after all the unpacking I did earlier. It felt necessary, though, and talking to Hunter about it did seem to lighten the weight a bit.
But all that and then looking at myself in the mirror? Hard pass.
“You look gorgeous,” Hunter says, his eyes slowly perusing me from head to toe. “I love the length of your hair.”
When I first came here months ago, it was short.
Now, it’s longer, and my natural waves are coming out, curling over my forehead and nearly touching my collar in the back.
Given the way Hunter likes to bury his hands in it when he kisses me?
I don’t think I’m cutting it anytime soon. At least not as short as it was before.
“Thank you. You look pretty good too.”
His lips curve into a smirk. “You ready to go?”
The drive to the restaurant is nice. I sit in the middle, resting my head on Hunter’s shoulder while he lays his hand palm up on my thigh so I can run my fingers over it.
When we pull into the parking lot of the restaurant, Hunter puts the truck in park, and we sit together in silence for a second before he turns slightly in his seat. I sit up so I can look at him, and he searches my eyes for a long moment before leaning in and kissing me.
I can’t remember a time in recent years when things felt this easy for me. When happiness was this close to the surface. When it felt this real. This tangible. It’s been so long since I’ve been able to taste it on my tongue. To feel it under my fingertips. To hold it in my heart.
Placing a hand on Hunter’s upper thigh, I lean closer, nearly draping myself over his lap as I kiss him deeper.
I can feel his smile against my lips. The way his chest rises and falls against mine. I can taste the joy in our kiss.
Hunter pulls back with a small breath. “Are you ready to go inside?”
“Definitely.”
After we get out of the truck, we walk hand in hand into the restaurant. It’s not overly busy, and we get taken to a small, dimly lit booth in the far back corner right away.
“This is nice,” I say, sliding into the booth across from Hunter.
“They have really good baked potatoes. And steak.”
I raise my eyebrows, a smile tugging on my lips. “How am I not surprised my country boy is all about them meat and taters?”
He lets out a laugh. “Did you just say taters? Are you making fun of my accent, sweetheart?”
“Not a chance. I love your accent.”
“Is that right?” Hunter says, and I repeat his “right” in his accent. He grins. “Is that what I sound like?”
“You haven’t listened to yourself before?”