Always You (Always & Forever #1)

PROLOGUE

CHARLOTTE

P RESENT DAY

“You wanna talk about it?” Julie’s amber brown eyes bore into the side of my face.

I shrug. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

I stare into the goldish depts on my glass, then take a sip. The sweet notes of the whiskey are not numbing my turmoil as I had hoped. In fact, it’s only making me crumble more, taunting me with thoughts of what could’ve been alternated with the painful aches of what should’ve been.

Today life stared me in the eye and said fuck you . Again.

Getting shitfaced at the local bar is my fuck you back, but so far I have a feeling I’m on my way to a hangover without the buzz I’m supposed to be paying for. I shift on the leather barstool, my back sore from crying on my bathroom floor half the morning.

“Am I a bad person?” I ask.

“What? No! Why would you even say that?” Her blonde hair swings over her shoulder when she turns her face to me.

“Because part of me is relieved it happened?”

“That doesn’t make you a bad person, Charlie. That just–” Her attention darts to the entrance of the bar before her gaze grows big and she swallows her words.

Focusing on her glass, she puts the straw in her mouth and takes a big sip with her eyes bulging from their sockets like they are about to fall out .

I adjust my position to look over my shoulder, but she rapidly grabs my arm.

“ Breathe .”

My brows knit together, my lips parting to ask her what the hell is going on but a shift of energy behind me quickly shuts me up. The hairs on the back of my neck trail up, just like they always do when he’s watching me.

No.

I smell him before I hear him. A potent mix of a citrus, woodsy cologne that penetrates through the stuffy, alcoholic scent of the bar. A scent that’s forever imprinted in my soul, even though I’ve tried to scratch it off with force.

I swallow roughly, while my heart races, afraid of the seconds to come.

“Hey, babe.” His voice is deep, warming every inch of my body in a way it shouldn’t.

My instinct tells me I should tell him to fuck off . To pick another day, any day, but not today. But my heart has taken control over my muscles, turning under protest of my brain before it stops all together when I look into his eyes.

My favorite eyes in the entire world.

I could pretend that’s not the case, but while his hazel-brown eyes peer down at me, I just can’t. I wish it wasn’t the truth, but it is. His eyes are still the most mesmerizing thing I’ve ever seen, with copper swirls dancing around his irises, capable of letting me make stupid decisions and do things I’d never do without him.

In short, I’m still fucked.

“What the fuck?” I hold his gaze like a warrior, even though I know it will become harder with each passing second.

Hunter Hansen has that ability over me. A 6’2” frame with a devastating smirk and eyes that speak louder than words. He can make me crumble with one single look .

I hoped that if we’d ever stand face to face again, I’d be immune to his energy that effortlessly sucks me into his space. But it’s not surprising that I’m out of luck today.

Like an unavoidable vortex, I barely stand a chance.

“What’s up, Julie?” He averts his gaze from my eyes, giving my friend a nod over my head.

Momentarily relieved from the intensity of his vision on mine, my attention lowers to his lips as he licks them before his eyes snap back to me. His lips curve, noticing where my focus is, sinking his teeth into the soft cushion in response.

“What’s up, asshole?” Julie replies with not nearly enough aggravation, as if this is the most normal thing ever.

It’s not.

He’s supposed to be on the other side of the country, living his jet-set life while we are nothing more than a distant memory. Going to clubs, hanging out with his celebrity friends but definitely not crashing my fucking girls’ night on the worst day of my life, reminding me I have no clue what I’m doing with a single look.

“How are you?” He flashes me his famous boyish grin, dropping his burning eyes to mine. Even though he’s twenty-five now and all-man, his shoulders look even broader than the last time I saw him.

“Fine.” I avert my gaze to settle my thumping heart down.

There is no way I’ll be able to keep things distant and acquainted if he keeps looking at me like that. I mean, I have a boyfriend; I love Ben.

So, we’ve hit a bump in the road. Or a mountain, whatever . We will get through it together. But I admitted to myself a long time ago that I have a never-ending weakness for Hunter Hansen, and him staring at me like I’m about to be his dinner makes me forget loving another man real fast.

It's freaking hard to resist his superpowers.

I mean, I’m only human.

“You here to visit your mom?” I already know the answer, but my nerves have me chickening out to ask the real question burning on my tongue.

I bring my drink to my lips, just keeping busy to settle the tingling in my stomach.

The asshole takes the stool next to me, making himself comfortable, as he turns his body toward my side. His eyes burn a hole through my skin, making it hard for me to breathe, and I swallow my nerves—hoping, praying, wondering if I can drown the feelings I apparently still have before they come floating to the surface.

“Nah, I’m moving back.”

“You’re what?!” I snap my head to his, my eyes as wide as a deer in headlights. “Why?”

I glance at his muscled arms, covered by a red flannel shirt. His sleeves are rolled up, and I resist the urge to run my fingers over the tattoos covering his skin, pushing away the need for him to wrap his arms around me.

Damn you, Charlotte. Keep it together.

“Because I have unfinished business in this town.” He boldly grabs my glass of vodka and lime from my hand, his fingers brushing mine for longer than necessary. An electrifying jolt ripples through my arm at his simple touch. His eyes fill with an amused spark, pinning me down from under his signature black snapback.

Jackass.

I watch how he casually wets his lips, then takes a sip of my drink.

He can’t treat me like I’m his for the taking, giving me this flirtatious look and igniting something in my body that I’ve hidden away with diligent effort. I resist the urge to slap the drink from his fingers, scolding him for being an arrogant dick. But instead, I let him, watching his Adam’s apple softly bob as he slugs the liquor down his throat.

“You better be talking about your mom, Hunter Hansen.” I shoot him a reprimanding look, even though I already know she would be the last reason for him to move back to Braedon. In reality, he doesn’t have anyone left in this town.

Except…..

“She’s the reason I left.” He pauses, and I send up a quick prayer. Please, don’t say it. Please, God, don’t let him say it. “You are the reason I’m back.”

Of course he said it. Fuck.

His hand takes residence on my thigh, bringing back the familiarity I need to end right now, while his other hand places my glass back in front of me.

“No, I am not.” I shake my head, closing my eyes for a brief moment and trying to put up an unaffected front. I choose to ignore his hand on my body, and the feeling it’s giving me. But the heat that crawls up to my neck is a clear indication I’m failing this test like a sinking ship.

“I know it took me a while, but I’m back.” The sincerity in his voice causes a raging battle between what I feel and what I know as he leans in. As his breath fans my cheek, telling me he’s at least two inches too close, my brain to shocked to tell him to fuck off.

“Good for you,” I manage to snarl instead, staring into my glass while Julie stifles a chuckle.

“I want another shot.” His voice is all husky and needy, trickling goosebumps down my body. Ouch. I waited for this kind of truth for so long, but now all it does is hurt like hell. It would be so easy to fall back under his spell, especially today. To let myself slip into his comfortable arms, to be safe for just a moment.

But I can’t handle heartbreak anymore. I’ve lost too much .

“At what?” I ask, my curiosity holding back from saying nothing at all.

“Your heart.”

Fuck me.

“I have a boyfriend.” I scoff, finding the nerve to glare at his hooded eyes.

“We both know he doesn’t mean shit.” He takes another sip of my drink, as if claiming my glass means claiming me. There is a confidence in his eyes that’s pissing me off, reminding me of the cocky son of the bitch in the fighting cage.

Ready to play dirty for as long as it takes to come out as the winner.

Refusing to ever lose.

I used to admire it, but right now, it just feels like a threat to my already torn-up heart.

“You don’t mean shit,” I counter in a lame attempt to insult him, before an arrogant grin washes his face.

“And your pretty eyes tell me that’s a lie.”

“Stop flirting with me.”

“Never.” He winks.

He fucking winks, creating a stutter in my chest.

He keeps staring at me with an intensity that has me nailed to my seat, the corner of his mouth curled up in a small grin. I hold his gaze, hoping he will cower. Hoping I can keep up a strong, determined front, but after a few heated heartbeats, I release a deep sigh.

“What do you want, Hunter?” I roll my eyes and put my focus on my drink in front of me. Then casually swirl the contents through the glass while faking an indifference I sure as fuck am not feeling, but knowing it’s all I’ve got. It’s all I can do to not let him thunder back into my world and fuck up my life some more.

The mess I’m in is big enough, thank you very much .

“Eight dates. One for every year that I should’ve made you mine and didn’t, and then one extra for the years we’ll have in the future.”

For a brief moment, my lashes fall and my heart cries. It’s like he plants a knife right into my chest with his words, and part of me wants to let it sit there and let the excruciating pain linger, before I find the strength to straighten the features on my face.

“What? No! I have a boyfriend,” I emphasize, throwing him an incredulous look to hide how my heart really aches for him.

“Who cares?” Hunter dramatically throws his head back as he drags out the words.

“I do.” I pinch my thumb in my chest. “And I bet he does, too.”

“I’m not going anywhere, babe.” The statement is clear.

It shouldn’t mean anything, yet it means everything coming from his mouth. A year ago, I’d be out that door with him in a heartbeat, not even thinking about the consequences. Hunter Hansen being home is the equivalent of trouble. Trouble I have a hard time staying away from as soon as I look into those piercing eyes.

But he destroyed too much. He shattered my heart into too many pieces. Him coming home doesn’t mean anything. I have my own life now. He didn’t want to be a part of it, and I’m going to hold him up to that decision for self-preservation.

“You can’t do this. You can’t just barge back into my life like that. Expecting everything to be all good.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, hearing Julie sarcastically snicker next to me. My jaw clenches at the sound of it, and I volley her a death stare with my green eyes.

Thanks for the backup, girlfriend .

“I know, but I’m fucking doing it, anyway.”

I should just keep my eyes on my glass, avoiding eye contact at all costs, because one look too many, and I’ll be hooked again .

Like a druggie, trying to resist a shot of heroin, free of charge, ready to fuck up your life for a high you know you can’t resist. But still, my head slowly but surely twists to find his determined gaze filled with regret. Hurt laces his expression while he’s holding up this bad boy front. Acting as if everything is well in the world.

It’s like looking into a fucking mirror, and I hate how I still want him to be happy, more than I want it for myself.

“Eight dates, Charls. Eight dates to convince you to give me another shot. If you still want me to leave after those eight dates, I’ll be gone. I promise.”

Hearing him call me Charls warms my body in a way no one ever can. It rolls off his tongue so effortlessly, sounding like music to my ears, a tune only allowed from his lips.

I let my thoughts bounce around in my brain like a tennis match, weighing out the pros and cons, even though I already know what the outcome will be. Temptation drags me under to at least find out if we can somewhat resolve what he threw in the trash.

If maybe there’s a tiny chance we can be friends again.

“No dates.” I firmly shake my head. I can’t give him that much, because I might as well give him my heart so he can toss it through a shredder.

“Babe,” he pleads, but I’m not giving him even an inch more.

“That ship has sailed, Hunter.” I firmly tell him. “But I’ll give you eight days to convince me you’re still my friend.” I let out my breath, regretting the words as soon as they left my mouth.

This is the worst idea ever.

But I can’t help myself.

When we first crossed that line all those years ago, I knew one thing. I wanted to keep my friend, more than anything. And when I look past all the heartbreak, I still want that. I still want our nights at the creek and hanging out in his car .

I still miss my friend.

“ Bes t friend.”

“Let’s just start with friends, okay?” I scold.

“Fine, but we are calling them dates. And I want eight full days, morning until evening.”

Cocky son of a bitch, always has to push his luck.

“Oh God, what the fuck will I tell Ben?” I mutter to no one in particular, throwing my hands up in the air.

“Tell him your best friend is back in town.”

“You’re not my best friend until you’ve proven yourself.” My head wags as I realize how I don’t even fully understand what that means anymore.

Firmly, he trails his arm around my waist while he presses his body against my side. His lips press flush to my ear, his touch making me gasp for air. I close my eyes to not fall apart in his arms when his husky voice rumbles in my ear.

“Before those eight dates are over, I will have proven to be so much more than your best friend, babe.” He places a quick peck on my hair. “I’ll see you soon.”

Faster than I want, he lets go of my body, annoyance rippling from my body by the loss of his touch. Anger grows in my chest, cursing myself at how quickly my senses are sparked alive by him.

“You’re an asshole.”

He backs away with a cocky grin on his face and shoots me another wink.

“I am. But I’m your asshole,” he agrees, then turns around, walking out of the bar like he owns the goddamn place. I stare at him with my pulse pounding in my ears, until he’s moving through the door and out of my sight.

What the fuck just happened?

I fill my lungs, trying to control my racing heart. Burying my face in my hands, a grunt erupts from my throat .

He’s back.

Hunter fucking Hansen is back.

They say you don’t get more on your plate than you can handle. Yeah, well I’d like to speak to the manager, because my plate is fucking full. It’s overflowing, falling from the sides and I want a new plate.

My lips roll to a thin line before I find Julie’s judgy look.

Her heart-shaped face rests in her palm, and I detect a hint of amusement in her gaze.

“You could’ve backed me up there, bitch. You were ready to hire a hitman for him eleven months ago.” I frown at my soon-to-bo-ex best friend, a little frustrated with her lack of reaction after the infamous ghost of my past came strolling into the bar and ruined my night some more. Little traitor.

She shrugs. “I still am. But let’s be honest, it’s not going to change the outcome now that he’s back. You two–”

“Don’t you dare say it!” I cut her off, not even remotely curious about what was about to roll off her tongue, and I pin her with a stern expression.

Her hands move up in the air, but I catch the parting of her lips quick enough.

“Shut up,” I bark before she can say anything.

She just chuckles beside me, bringing her drink to her mouth. “You’re so fucked, girl.”

“No, I’m not.” My tone is resolute, and I mean it.

Because Hunter and I will never cross that line.

I won’t allow it again.

Ever .