17. CHARLOTTE
17
I hate these days but today is a lot more bearable with Hunter by my side.
Holding Mama’s arm, I help her down the porch steps while Hunter parks his truck in the driveway. My belly flutters when he shoots me a wink in greeting as he rounds the truck to hold the door open for her. She waggles closer, her frame looking more fragile with every step. Chemo hit her hard this time.
Last week, she barely came out of bed, her muscles too weak to hold up her head, and she’s only halfway through the treatment.
Hunter has been here every night. He says it’s because he has nothing better to do, but I know it’s because he’s keeping an eye on me. Making sure I’m okay.
I am when he’s around.
“Good morning, ma’am.” Hunter gives her a formal nod, and I let out a chuckle at his overly polite behavior while stealing a glance at his bruised knuckles from his latest fight. I know it’s genuine, but it’s also a trait he doesn’t bring out for everyone, and I love that he does so for my mother.
“Morning, Hunter.” She lets go of my arm, waving her pale hand in the air. “I can go in the backseat, it’s okay.”
“No, ma’am. The best seat we save for the best girl.” A boyish grin splits his face that makes that damn flutter slice through my stomach again, the twinkle in his eyes not helping matters .
“You heard him, Charlotte. Get in.” She attempts to shove me toward the passenger seat, but I plant my feet in the grass, shaking my head.
“He doesn’t mean me , Mama. I’m pretty sure he means you.”
“She’s right. This girl wouldn’t be here without you, so you automatically triumph over her.” Any other girl might have been offended, but for me, it’s the opposite. It only swells my heart to epic proportions. I fold my arms in front of my body, nodding my head in agreement while her face moves back and forth between the both of us.
“I’m too tired for this discussion.” She shoots us an amused glare, then gets herself into the truck. Hunter gives me a questioning look while we watch her struggle, but I softly shake my head. It’s a big effort for her to climb into the damn thing, her lack of energy being as heavy as a ball of chain, but I get into the backseat without helping her, knowing she wants to do it by herself.
Following my lead, Hunter climbs behind the wheel.
“Thank you for taking us, Hunter.” Mama pats his hand when we are on our way to the hospital, while I watch the conversation unfold between the both of them from the backseat.
“My pleasure, ma’am.”
“Please, call me Liz,” she tells him, but he reluctantly shakes his head.
“I don’t know, ma’am. My mom might not be doing a superb job at parenting right now, but my dad taught me some common rules, and he would turn around in his grave if I start calling you by your first name after such a short time.”
“I think he’d make an exception when he knows how important you are to my daughter, won’t he? Practically makes you family.”
Hunter turns his face toward her with a look I can’t really decipher, then quickly glances over his shoulder. Pinning brown eyes collide with mine, my pulse a jackhammer for no more than two beats, before he twists his head back.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good. Then from now on, it’s Liz.” There’s a smug tone in Mama’s voice, letting us know this is the end of the conversation, and I stifle a laugh.
Mama likes Hunter. She doesn’t say a lot about him, and she barely asks. But its in her eyes, in the way she talks to him, and the fact that she treats him like he belongs with us, no matter what time of day it is. She makes him feel welcome, and it means the world. To him and to me.
It takes us no longer than ten minutes before we arrive at the oncology department of the hospital, and I help my mom settle in while Hunter quietly looks around him. The room holds four armchairs, each with an IV stand, even though only one is occupied. He’s never gone with us before.
Normally, he just drops us off or waits for me back at the house while I take his truck. But this time, he insisted on coming. Said that he wanted to be there for me through the good and the bad. I was thrilled he offered, thinking he’d be a welcoming distraction from all the dreadful faces that roam around the hospital, but taking one glance at his troubled expression makes me wonder if that was a mistake.
“You okay?” I mouth to him when he flicks his gaze up to mine, and he replies with a nod. The silence is taken away when the only woman in the room dramatically clears her throat.
“Morning, Mrs. Parker.” My lips curl as I look at the old lady shamelessly eyeing Hunter. She’s the epitome of a southern older woman, looking fabulous, her gray hair styled without even a strand out of place, and the same amount of sass still running through her body as when she was sixteen, so I’ve heard. She’s seventy-five, and even though this is the third time she’ s going through chemo, she refuses to die. She makes these visits a little less depressing.
“Good morning, Charlotte. Is he yours?” An approving look appears, her pearls tugged between her red-painted fingers, while Hunter gives her a wink before I can reply.
Cocky asshole.
“Something like that,” he replies. His discomfort has suddenly evaporated when he saunters toward her with the grace of a fucking prince, then offers his hand.
“Name is Hunter, ma’am. Hunter Hansen. Pleasure.”
She jerks his arm a little closer, holding it a tad longer than necessary, as she shamelessly lets her other hand stroke his toned bicep. I can barely cut back a chuckle, watching how he’s completely getting manhandled while I help my mother into the chair.
“Fiona Parker. The pleasure is all mine, Hunter. You’re a bad boy, aren’t you?”
“No, ma’am.” He shakes his head with a snicker.
“Then why do you have knuckles like they run into a wall on a daily?”
“I fight for some extra cash, ma’am.”
Her eyes lower to slits, her eyebrows pulled together. “Why do you need the extra cash?”
Hunter clears his throat, briefly locking his gaze with me before flicking his attention back to Fiona. “To give myself a better life after graduation.” He shrugs, his cockiness suddenly leaving the room for a brief moment. “Take care of those who matter.” His eyes meet mine for a split second, my heart stuttering.
The air crackles under Fiona’s silence, her features changing as if she’s trying to form an opinion. “Bless your heart, boy. If that’s your attitude, you’ll get there. Work hard and stay true to the people you love. Including yourself. You’re a good boy.”
He awkwardly pushes out a smile. “Thank you, ma’am. ”
She lets go of his arm, putting her focus on me. “You did good, Charlotte.”
“We’re just friends,” I explain.
“Who told you that bullshit ?” Fiona blurts, pulling a little gasp from my throat.
“They both did,” Mama counters.
“Hey! It’s not me!” Hunter scoffs with a playful glint haunting his expression.
“Oh, God. What is it with kids these days? What is it y’all are calling it? Playing hard to get? Let me tell you something, life is too short for that bogus. You gotta grab that girl and kiss her.” She raises her arm with a balled fist, roaring the words as she frowns at Hunter.
Hunter studies Fiona as if he’s weighing out the pros and cons in his head, then he shrugs. “I can do that.”
Without hesitation, he aims his frame at me, coming my way with a stroll that lifts his cheeks more with every step he takes. I freeze, my lashes frantically feathering my cheeks until he’s almost in front of me, with a dark film falling over his eyes.
“Stop flirting with me!” I yelp.
He presses a smile between his lips, then raises his arms up in a placating way before he flops down in the vacant armchair beside me. “See? It’s not me.”
“Oh, it’s your daughter who’s being a pain, Liz,” Fiona concludes.
“Hunter, shut your pie hole,” I hiss, rolling my eyes.
“Nah, it’s really both of them.” Mama chuckles while I hand her a magazine, closing my eyes to ignore their ridiculous comments. “But that’s okay. They still have time. I’m sure one of them will get their head out of their ass soon enough. Preferably, before I die.”
“Okay, no one is going to die,” I wail, with a tone to end the conversation. “Hunt and I are going to see if there are any snacks, so you two can talk about us without giving me the unwanted pleasure of hearing whatever y’all have to say about it.”
I grab Hunter’s arm, dragging him up before anyone can say anything else, and shove him into the hallway. “You know I’m never going to hear the end of this now, right?”
“Come on, Charls.” He swings his arm around my shoulder as we walk down the hall to the cafeteria, that same smug grin still on his face. “You gotta give that woman something to talk about. We could go back and give them even more by showing them our first kiss? I’m down if you’re down.”
I slap his arm. “Stop flirting with me, jackass.”
“Fine,” he growls, a chuckle seeping through the deepness of his voice.
When we arrive at the cafeteria, he buys us both some ice cream, even though it’s only noon, and we take a seat at one of the tables near the window.
Leaning back against the chair, slightly slouching, I watch Hunter’s tongue move out of his mouth over and over again to lick the chocolate off his Magnum. A wave of heat makes me blush, while a tingling feeling forms between my legs, my mind wandering to a place it shouldn’t go.
Would his tongue feel as good as I imagine it would on my body? Would it feel scorching on my neck? Would it be earth shattering to have him wrap his full lips over my center?
I keep my eyes fixated, unable to look away, slowly taking bites of my orange popsicle. He’s looking out of the window, unaware of my mild form of voyeurism, while his tongue keeps twirling around the chocolate. Long intended strokes, switching between just the tip of his tongue to dragging the whole thing over the surface. I swallow hard, parting my lips, and accidentally let out a ragged moan when he sinks his teeth into the chocolate, taking a bite from the top. The sound snaps his head to mine, and his eyebrows move up when he notices the flushed look on my face.
“You okay there?”
Not-fucking-at-all.
“Hmm,” I muse, putting my focus back on my popsicle, releasing a groan when I stick my teeth in the cold surface to literally cool myself down.
“You sure?” There’s a hunger in his eyes that I know matches mine, and a smirk on his lips that tells me he knows exactly where my dirty head is. God, I’m so busted. His tongue darts out as he slowly licks his lips and shoots me a wink. And I automatically reply by rolling my eyes to the back of my head.
Asshole.
“Perfect.”
“Okay.” His shoulder jerks up, his eyes still filled with an amused glare, and I avert my gaze, lowering to his damaged knuckles.
“Will you ever stop fighting?”
“Why? Scared I’ll get hurt?”
“Only your bloated ego.” I stick out my tongue.
He sighs, dropping his focus to the table before it snaps back up to me. “Only if I have a good reason to quit.”
“Like what?”
He’s quiet for a moment before he says, “Like finding something that’s more important.”
My heart cracks . I hope he finds it. I hope one day, he’ll find something he loves to do that doesn’t involve him getting hurt all the time.
“What happened with Demi last night?” I ask, trying to change the subject.
He lets out a chuckle while shaking his head. “Not much. She saw me talking to Kayla and apparently wanted my undivided attention. Got pissed, threw a fit, and went home.” The words roll off his tongue, as if it was nothing, when really, it was a full on theater show. Very entertaining as well, if I have to believe Julie.
“You know what I don’t get?” I lean my elbows on the table, and he nudges his chin in question. “It’s common knowledge in this town that you sleep around, trading girls like they’re baseball cards, yet they still want your attention. How?” I point my popsicle at him, shooting him an incredulous look. I don’t miss the sharp edge of my tone, and I inwardly curse myself for letting my jealousy creep through.
But regardless, it’s true. I can’t even keep up with the number of girls he allegedly sleeps with, yet it doesn’t seem to stop any of them from throwing themselves at him whenever they get the chance. I get bored hearing about whatever chick is desperate for his attention this week, yet they keep swarming him like bees to honey.
It makes no sense.
“I don’t trade you like a baseball card.”
I blink at his answer, not sure what to make of that. “I’m different.”
“Yeah.” He lets out a sigh before the corner of his mouth curls in a sweet smile, a hint of pain ghosting his hazel eyes. “You are.”
“But we’re not talking about me. We are friends .” An invisible chord forms between us, made out of paper-thin steel. Solid, strong, but still able to snap within the blink of a second. I silently dare him to argue with me. To question our friendship.
“Right.” But he never does. Instead, he mimics my stance, dropping the intensity that grows between us while he leans his elbows on the surface.
“I don’t know, babe. I guess sometimes you have to pray that karma is on your side, and gives you a second chance.” He playfully cocks his head with a smug look on his face, and I can’t resist reaching over the table, softly slapping his head. “Ouch. ”
“You’re an arrogant asshole.” I plop back in my chair. “How you treat those girls shouldn’t be giving you good karma, because you let them follow you around, giving them just a sprinkle of fairy dust of attention, even though you know you’re not serious with them.” I scowl. “It’s like a fucking puppy farm.”
“True.” He leans back, slouching in his chair, licking his lower lip, then takes another bite of his Magnum. “But it’s really more like a beehive.”
My frown is deep and mocking. “How so?”
“Well, in a beehive, there are a shit ton of workers.” He pauses, his expression darkening a bit. “But there’s only one queen. The rest of them don't matter.”
Pressing my tongue into my cheek, I take in his words. Yet, I’m scared to fully process them. He licks his lips with hooded eyes, then lowers his voice while a lump forms into my throat. “There’s one girl I treat like a queen,” he continues, his eyes locked on mine, “and I’m pretty sure that’s where all my good karma comes from.”
Fucking hell.
I narrow my eyes at him, pursing my lips, swallowing away the dryness in my mouth while his haze never deviates.
Like I’m all he sees.
Like I’m the only one who matters.
Fuck, I want to believe him so badly.
He’s been sleeping around with a bunch of girls since we became friends, but not once did he give me the feeling I don’t matter. I’m the one he puts everything aside for, making sure he can accommodate my every need. It makes me wonder if maybe I’m not crazy. If only I had enough balls to give in to the one need that aches the most.
“Tell me I’m wrong, Charls.” The challenge is clear in his squinted gaze.
I shake my head. “You’re not wrong, Hunt. ”
“One of these days, Charls,” he says, his voice deep and husky, his words filled with promise, stopping my heart for a beat. “One of these days, I won’t be able to hold back anymore.”
A breath is stolen from my chest, and I almost drop my popsicle, before forcing myself to get it together.
“Stop flirting with me,” I whisper, not being able to say it with as much vigor as I intend to because of the fluttering feeling in my core that wants to jump him.
He doesn’t move a fucking muscle. Our eyes stay connected as the tension fills the air between us. I notice his Adam’s apple bob when he swallows hard, and unintentionally, I part my lips.
“Fine.” He glares before a boyish grin is conjured on his face. “Come on, let’s go check on your mom.”
The tension disappears in the blink of an eye when we get up, like it does every time we have these moments.
“One day, I won’t be able to hold back anymore.”
But what if I don’t want him to?