Chapter 15 Adaline #2
He stands near a stall buying kettle corn, perfectly dressed, casual, but still screams money.
His hair is styled. His smile is already forming, polished and practiced like he’s stepping into a photo shoot.
I can't believe I used to find him attractive.
I am also beginning to doubt my ability ever to have thought that I would spend my entire life with him.
My heart slams against my ribs.
What is he doing here?
My first instinct is to turn and disappear into the crowd. But he has already spotted me, and I don't want to show him I am afraid because I am not. Besides, Rose Hills is small, and this festival is smaller. If I run, I’ll look guilty.
So I lift my chin and walk forward like I’m not rattled. Connor’s eyes stay on me, and his smile widens.
“Adaline,” he says, as if I’m an old friend he just happened to bump into. “There you are.”
There you are.
Like I’m something he misplaced.
I force politeness into my face. “Connor.”
He steps closer. “I’ve been looking for you.”
My stomach twists. He lowers his voice, just enough that it feels intimate and dangerous.
“I’m here with colleagues,” he says smoothly. “We’re running a medical camp in the next town over. Thought we’d stop by. Small-town charm and all that.”
Maybe it’s true. Maybe it’s the world’s worst coincidence.
Or maybe he tracked me down like he tracks everything, quietly, efficiently, with a smile that makes it look harmless.
I hold his gaze. “That’s… nice.”
His eyes flick over me, assessing. “You look… different.”
“Less engaged?” I offer, too sweet, too sharp.
His smile tightens for a fraction of a second, and then he steps closer again, crowd noise swallowing us just enough. And his voice drops into something that isn’t charming anymore.
“You’re going to come back,” he says softly, like he’s reminding me of something we both agreed on.
My blood turns to ice.
“And if you don’t,” he continues, still calm, “I’ll make sure the hospital hears your name in that dosage investigation.”
My breath catches.
He tilts his head, eyes bright with the kind of power he thinks he owns.
“I’d hate for people to get the wrong idea about you,” he says. “You know how these things go, headlines, careers ruined.”
The festival lights blur at the edges of my vision, Connor’s smile returns, perfect and poisonous.
“Come back, Addie,” he murmurs. “Or I’ll drag you into the spotlight whether you like it or not.”
And suddenly, I feel like I can't breathe. I’m already scanning the crowd for an exit when the sound hits.
A motorcycle.
Low. Violent. Unmistakable roar of the engine.
It cuts through the music and chatter, and something in my chest snaps tight. People turn, heads lift. Conversations stall mid-sentence.
And then I see him.
Hunter.
He pulls up at the edge of the square and claims the space without a word.
Dark leather jacket, helmet under his arm, eyes sharp and focused the second they land on me. Relief hits so hard my knees nearly give out.
The crowd parts instinctively as he walks straight toward us, conversations dimming in his wake.
He doesn’t acknowledge Connor at all, not even a glance.
“Adaline.” His voice is firm. Unarguable.
“You’re coming home with me. Now.”
Connor stiffens. “Excuse me—”
Hunter cuts him off without looking. “There’s been an emergency,” he says. “Aunt Jane isn’t well.”
My heart drops.
“What?” I breathe.
Hunter’s gaze never leaves mine. “She fainted. Mrs. Lane called me.”
That’s all it takes.
I don’t question him. I don’t look at Connor again. There is no hesitation.
I step away like there was never a choice to make.
“Okay,” I say. “Okay.”
Hunter turns, already heading back to the bike. I follow.
When we reach his motorcycle, Hunter steps closer and presses a helmet into my hands.
“For you,” he says, low and firm, like there was never any question I’d leave with him.
Connor’s voice trails after me, sharp and warning, and then the engine roars to life, swallowing him whole.
I swing onto the bike behind him, suddenly aware of the crowd.
Hunter shifts his weight just enough to hold me in place, his body a solid anchor before I even touch him.
As he pulls away from the square, my hands find his jacket, and I hold on like it’s the only solid thing left in the world. The lights blur, the wind tears at my thoughts, and then nothing at all.
Just us.
I think of the first time I rode with him, my car broken down, rain crashing from the sky, my heart in my throat.
There’s no storm tonight.
But my chest feels just as wild.
As we near the mansion, he slows the bike. His hand slides from the handlebar to my wrist, guiding my palm forward and pressing it flat against the tank—firm, protective, just like the first time.
The deceleration still sends me gently into his back, my body fitting too easily against his.
When the bike stops, he cuts the engine and doesn’t look at me.
For half a second, I wait—stupidly, for him to say my name.
He doesn’t. He swings off, removes his helmet, and strides toward the house, shoulders rigid, jaw locked, every line of him pulling away.
And the warmth I clung to on the ride is gone.
I expect him to glance back.
To reach for me the way he did minutes ago.
He doesn’t.
I trail behind him, my worry about Aunt Jane already tangling with a new, sinking dread.
I meet Mrs. Lane outside Aunt Jane’s bedroom. “Adaline dear, I am so glad you are back. Don't worry, Jane had a fainting spell. Low blood sugar, but she’s stable now, resting.”
Relief nearly buckles my knees. I step into Aunt Jane’s bedroom quietly, my breath caught somewhere between panic and prayer. She’s propped up against pillows, color already returning to her cheeks. Just seeing her like this makes my eyes sting.
“Aunt Jane,” I whisper, rushing to her side. I take her hand gently. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have left. Are you okay?”
She squeezes my fingers. “Oh, sweetheart, it was nothing. Just a little dizzy spell. I’m perfectly fine now.”
“I should’ve been here,” I say, guilt spilling out of me. “I’m so sorry.”
She gives me a look, soft but firm. “I told you to go. I wanted you to go. This isn’t on you.”
I swallow hard, nodding, when Hunter’s voice slices through the moment.
“I trusted you with her,” he snaps. “You walked away.” He is furious, his words cut sharp.
“I didn’t—”
Aunt Jane speaks up, voice firm despite her weakness. “I told her to go. I forced her.”
Hunter’s jaw tightens. “She took advantage of your kindness.”
The words land like a slap.
I don’t even defend myself. He storms out.
Back in my room, the world finally caves in. Connor has found me. He’s threatening my career.
I can’t lose this job. I can’t lose this life I was just beginning to imagine. Saving money, buying a house, staying here, studying for my critical care exam, and finally building something for myself.
And the worst part?
I didn’t even want to go to the festival. I went to prove something.
To Hunter. To myself. I went to spite Hunter Rexon.
My phone feels heavy in my hand as I open HeartLines.
Wind: Things feel worse than before.
Wind: Every time I think I’m standing firmly, the ground shifts.
My fingers hesitate. Then I type the words anyway.
Wind: The town where I moved for my new job had a fall festival. I took your advice and stood up for myself but I messed up.
I hit send and drop the phone onto the bed, exhaling shakily. It feels good to say it out loud. Not to solve it. Just to set it down somewhere safe for a moment.
I don’t need to know what North will think. I have no idea what tomorrow will bring.
All I know is that tonight, everything feels tangled beyond repair, and I’m too exhausted to keep pulling at the knots.