73. CHARLOTTE
73
I ’ve been sitting on the porch steps for ten minutes, replaying the last hour in my head, when Hunter parks his truck in my driveway. I knew he would. I wish he would respect my desire to be alone almost as much as I want him to be here. Because as much as I’ll never be ready for this conversation, it’s as inevitable as the moon appearing within the next few hours to announce the nightfall.
Giving me a blank look, he gets out of the truck, running a hand through his hair.
He slowly walks toward me with tentative steps, and I reach up my hand to make him stop, knowing I will break if he comes any closer. I will cave before I say everything I need to say. He gives me a troubled look, tucking his hands in the pockets of his jeans.
“At first, I thought losing you was the worst day of my life.” He swallows, his lips in a flat line. “Then I thought it was Mama dying. Then I flew out to LA, and literally felt my heart pulled from my body when I said goodbye to you, again. ” I shake my head, my voice cracking as my eyes well up. “But I was wrong, because the day you came home was the worst day of my life.”
Uneasiness painting his face, though I’m sure not for the reason I have in my head. “Why, babe? ”
I wet my lips, pressing them tightly together while I close my eyes to prevent the tears from running down my cheeks. Not yet. Not until I’ve said it all.
“Hey, talk to me.” He squats in front of me, too close for me to stay indifferent, grabbing my knees with a desperate look on his face.
“I can’t.”
“You can always talk to me,” he says with a choking voice, squeezing my knees in encouragement.
His words make me remember how I used to tell him everything, feeling completely comfortable with him. I’ve confessed I loved him multiple times, and he never said it back until it was too late. He never told me how he felt, not even when I needed it the most. Can I believe him now?
Can I trust him like I once did?
Can we ever grow from the pain and chaos we created?
I want to be brave once more, thinking I have nothing left to lose, but I don’t know if I can handle it again.
“I’m scared,” I confess, a tear staining my cheek. “Scared that if I give you all my secrets, you won’t stop until you have my heart. And I can’t lose that again.”
He nods, but there’s fear in his rapidly blinking eyes, his shoulders tightening.
“I know, Charls. I know.” He pushes a strand of hair behind my ear. “And I’m not going to pretend I’m here for anything else but your heart. But I’ll be working every day for the rest of my life to show you I will protect it with everything I got from this day forward. On your terms. Your pace. You don’t have to tell me anything until you’re ready.”
“What if I’ll never be ready?” I whisper.
He looks up at me, the determination in his eyes mixed with sincerity, that wraps a blanket around my heart. “I’ll still be here waiting. ”
The muscles in his neck tighten, his jaw ticking. He’s prepared to fight. To wait, wait until the end of time if he has to.
“I had a miscarriage.” Speaking the words out loud hurts, a physical pain going through my chest when I think about the life I’ve lost. But it feels liberating at the same time, setting me free as I release the secret I’ve kept to myself, even though I’ve been dying to tell him.
“What?” His eyebrows squish together, as he runs a hand through his hair in confusion.
“The day you came home, and found me in the bar. I was eight weeks pregnant. Or I was, up until that morning.”
He gets up, looking at the sky, curling his arms above his head as if breathing is too hard of a task, then locks his gaze with mine.
“I’m so sorry.” His voice cracks with emotion.
I shake my head with a bitter smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. “That wasn’t the worst part,” I confess, staring at the grass of my front yard.
I wish that was the worst part .
Normally, I enjoy the smell of fresh grass and the roses in front of my porch, but right now, my senses seem to be numb. Not registering anything other than the pain inside burning around my organs.
“It was the part where I was relieved,” I continue, not being able to control my tears any longer. “Thanking God on my bare knees for saving me, but feeling like fucking trash for thinking it. Grateful that I didn’t have to carry that burden for the rest of my life, but loathing myself at the same time.”
“What burden?”
My eyes lock with his, wanting to make sure he hears every word I’m saying. To feel the gravity of my confession, hoping he now realizes exactly how much I’ve always loved this troubled boy .
“Looking into my child’s eyes, wishing they were yours.” His face turns as white as snow as he pulls his hair in frustration, sucking in a sharp breath.
“Charls.”
When I know he’s heard me, really heard me, I keep going, knowing I have to push through now. There’s no back-peddling from this.
“For four weeks, I cried my eyes out, telling people it was hormones, when really, I couldn’t bear the thought of carrying a child that wasn’t yours. And then when I lost it, I felt emptier than ever, feeling like my life wasn’t even worth living.” The tone in my voice becomes more frantic and angry with every word, yelling everything I have left to say. “Because I wondered if I killed my own child by wishing I wasn’t pregnant! But then, when my prayers were answered, I regretted every second of it. And I hate you for it. Because that should’ve been you. That should’ve been our baby!” I shout, pointing my finger at him in agony. “And now it’s too late.”
I bring my hands up, covering my face.
“It’s too late, Hunter.”
“It’s never too late, Charls,” he counters.
“How can you say that?” I bellow with frustration, my ass still firmly planted on the wood of the steps, not sure I can stay on my feet if I get up.
“Because sometimes you realize you’re too late, but you pray life is on your side, giving you another shot.”
“This is not high school, Hunter!” I give him an incredulous look, staring at his pained expression when he brings up his hands in despair.
“I know. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I had to lose you before I realized I can’t live a fucking day without you. It’s not that I don’t want to. I do. I want to let you go so bad, knowing I will never be good enough for you. But I can’t. My heart stops beating when I’m not around you. My life is nothing more than an empty vessel without you in it. I know I should’ve stayed. I’m a fucking idiot. And now I’m here trying to hold on, when you have already let go.” I keep staring at him, while my shoulders shake from the tears that come down in bucketloads. “Ever since you walked out that day, leaving me completely lost on the sidewalk, I’ve realized you’ve been my lighthouse since day one. Preventing me from crashing into the fucking rocks that life keeps throwing me. But I get it now, I see it now.” He nods.
“See what ?” I push out.
“I have to crash through the rocks to get to you. I’ve been holding on to you like a life jacket, treasuring you as my beacon in the dark, when really, I want to hold your hand and walk in broad daylight for the rest of our fucking lives. It’s you. It’s always been you.”
I shake my head, my heart aching, hearing him, but still hesitant to fully open the door.
“If it’s not you, it’s not anyone. I’ve always wanted the world, fighting anyone who dared to get into that cage with me to get there, but when I got it, I lost you.” His eyes are reddened with emotion, showing me that lost boy I met all those years ago. Pretending to have figured it all out, but really, he’s just desperate to be held.
To be cherished.
To be loved.
“You once asked me what my dream was, and I told you I didn’t know. That was the only lie I ever told you, because from the moment my eyes met your green eyes that day at the creek, it was you. It has always been you .” His footsteps getting closer sound terrifying, holding a tight grip on my heart when he falls to his knees, placing himself between my legs while softly peeling my hands off my face. I sob when he looks me in the eye with a pleading stare, holding my hand in his palm. “Ask me what my dream is, babe.”
I shake my head, diverting my gaze, scared as fuck to do as he said. “Ask me what my dream is. Please.” He cups my face, pressing his forehead against mine. “Charls. Ask me.”
“What is your dream?” I whisper breathlessly.
He lets out a relieved sigh. “My dream is a house with a white picket fence and a big porch, where my wife can write all the stories that are stuck in her head while the kids are in school. I will forget our anniversaries, but she will forgive me because I make up for it the rest of the year. After the accident, I thought my dream was to be free. That all I ever wanted to be was the best fighter in the world. But now I know that all I ever wanted was to be yours. I love you, Charlotte Roux. I love you, and I’m going to keep telling you for the rest of my life, whether you want to hear it or not. I don’t give a shit about Ben, or whoever wants to steal you away from me. I will fight for you . I will fight for us . You are mine and you know it.”
And with that, it’s gone. My heart is slipping out of my chest and into his hands, forever at his mercy until the day I die.
There is no way back.
This is final.
This is it .
Hunter Hansen is it, and there is no use denying it. I’ve been trying to deny it for years, but I never stood a chance. He’s melted so deeply into my core that his soul is merged with mine. Two kids with our hearts on fire and nothing that can stop us from burning together.
I rest my hands on his neck, my painful tears being replaced by tears of relief. The extra weight that I’ve been carrying lifts off my chest when I finally nod.
“Do you hear me, Charlotte Roux? You. Are. Mine,” he growls against my lips .
Does he deserve another shot?
No.
But it doesn’t matter. I’m his. I could never be anyone else’s.
“I’m yours.” I press my lips against his as hard as I can, feeling how the darkness finally escapes my body when his arms wrap around me. With his mouth covering mine, I finally find what I’ve been looking for all those years.
He finally gives me everything no one else will ever be able to.
He picks me up, wrapping my legs around his body while we explore every inch of each other’s mouths. Walking us back into the house, his hand fists my hair so he can deepen our kiss in a demanding way.
The bulge in his jeans presses against my center, and I moan, thinking about how I want him to stretch me as wide as possible. How I’ve been longing for that day for years. His cold hands snake under my shirt, and everything seems to blur around me the longer I hold on to him. I’ve waited for this day since the last time I felt his lips on mine. Telling myself I was done with my obsession with Hunter Hansen, no longer in need of his blistering touch. But I’m an addict when it comes to him, never being able to resist anything he’s willing to give me, and I now know he feels the same. The urgency in his soft kisses, the tenderness in his touches, all tell me what I knew a long time ago—Hunter Hansen needs me as much as I need him. I need him like the air I breathe and the water I drink.
With big strides, he walks us to my bedroom before throwing me on the bed, erupting a squeal out of my body.
The craving in his eyes tells me he’s starving to get his new shot of utter bliss we seem to only be able to find with each other, and I eagerly take off my shirt, settling on my knees on the bed, my hands reaching out to take off his jeans .
He cups my face, looking down at me with a yearning sparkle in his eyes as he wipes away the leftover tears from my cheeks.
“I’m sorry it took me so long, babe.”
“Ssh, you’re here now.” Without giving him time to reply, I pull his boxers down, wrapping my lips around his hard shaft.
“ Fuck! ” he cries out, as my gaze locks with his from underneath my lashes.
His lips part with hooded eyes, staring at me in awe, while his hand caresses my cheek.
Moving my lips up and down his cock, I massage his balls, getting more excited by every moan that leaves his lips. I’ve been dying to taste him, to make him come undone with my lips like he did when we were still a couple of kids in high school. My eyes water when he hits the back of my throat, doing my best to keep going while his face turns more concentrated with every thrust. My lips suck on his head like it’s my favorite lollipop, a popping sound echoing through the room every time I let it escape my lips.
“Na-ah,” he groans, running his hand through my sweaty hair. “I don’t want to come in your mouth.”
Pushing me off of him, I look up at him with a pout, a grin appearing on his face. Taking off the rest of his clothes, I bite my lip, admiring his strong body. The tattoos on his arm show off his big muscles and his Adonis belt makes me wetter just from staring at it. The boy I’ve known since high school is completely replaced by a man who exceeds my wildest desires.
“Take everything off, babe,” he orders with that boyish grin on his face that instantly makes butterflies flutter through my stomach. I do what he says, teasingly throwing my panties at his chest. He catches them with ease, before bringing them to his nose, breathing in like a madman, stealing the air from my lungs.
“I’ve missed this.” He saunters toward me, his eyes hungry like he’s ready to devour me. A finger runs along my cheek as he walks past me, then gets on the bed, settling against the headboard. His hard dick is throbbing against his belly, and I stare at it in awe, eager to feel him inside of me.
“Come here, babe.”
Biting my lip, I crawl toward him, placing a leg on each side so I’m straddling him. He grabs his head, gently rubbing it through my slit in long strokes, and I throw my head back at the soft touch on my core.
With my lips pressed together, I let out a muffled moan, enjoying every second of his warm head gliding through my wetness.
“You’re so wet.”
Without warning, he grabs my hips, yanking me over his cock like his life depends on it, and I suck in a deep breath when he harshly fills me up.
“ Fuck. Hunter. Condom.” I huff, resting my forehead against his.
“No way, babe. I’m done taking things slow. I want you, Charls. I want it all. My last name on your passport. A bunch of kids. A dog , yeah?”
His words bring a smile to my face, feeling them in my core, and I nod, pressing a kiss against his lips.
“Promise me.” A slight fear etches through his voice, and I now realize how hard this is for him. To open up to the person he loves, knowing one day they might leave him. But if there is one thing life taught me so far, it’s that you can’t walk away when it’s real. When love is real, when love is true, it will consume you until the day you die, making it impossible to truly be happy without it. Not everyone is lucky to find it, not everyone is lucky enough to keep it, but once it reaches your heart, there is no going back.
You can run from love, trying to cross the finish line before it catches up with you, but you can never hide .
I tried.
He tried.
But even though we both agreed to friends from the get-go, it was useless.
Love caught up with us quicker than we were ready. But I understand now.
We were never friends.
We have always been more than that.
We have always been in love.
“I promise,” I say, as I start to ride him, his chest tight against mine with our arms wrapped around each other. We hold on for dear life until we explode together, completely melted as one.