His to Hunt

Chapter 1

Taryn

I’m annoyed.

Not mildly annoyed. Not the kind of annoyed that a salted caramel coffee can fix or a hot shower can rinse away. I’m frustrated, restless, and irritated by absolutely nothing and everything at the same time.

I can’t point to any one thing that has put me in this mood. That might be the worst part. I’m just irritated by life in general. My life, mostly.

And today is supposed to be a good day. It’s my birthday.

I’m waiting on my best friends to arrive.

Madison and Shana. We’ve been best friends since Madison and I saved Shana from a bully on the playground in elementary school.

Who knew that punching Cassandra Clark in the nose would create a ripple effect that made us friends for life?

I wonder what would have happened if I’d punched her a few more times for good measure.

Then again, I don’t believe in stuff like that.

Butterfly effects. Ripples. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction across the universe itself.

Fate. Destiny. Karma. My grandmother was the one who believed in that kind of nonsense.

If any of that is real, then I must have really pissed off the universe.

“Taryn!” a voice calls out from the top of the stairs. “Madison’s here!”

“Thanks, Melinda! You can send her down!” I yell back.

I live in Shana’s basement like I’m some sort of forgotten gremlin.

Shana suggested I take her room after she left for college, but I didn’t get a good vibe about it when she mentioned it in front of her parents.

I think they were hoping I’d move out after Shana left, not make myself a more permanent resident.

But it’s been almost four years, and I’m still here.

I can hear Madison catching up with Shana’s parents before she comes down to the basement. We hug and say all the things people say when they haven’t seen each other in too long.

I tell her how much I’ve missed her. She claims to have missed me even more. Then she tells me how much I’d love Amherst University, especially all the hot guys. It just makes me feel slightly more depressed about how close to rock bottom my life is.

“Let’s have a drink,” I say, filling two shot glasses with cranberry vodka.

“You don’t want to wait on Shana?” Madison asks hesitantly.

“She can catch up when she gets here,” I say, holding up my glass. “It’s my birthday party. If I want to start early, I can.”

“True,” Madison says, raising her glass. “Happy birthday!”

“Thanks.” I nod and down my shot, wincing a little when I feel the burn, but the cranberry makes it a little smoother.

Madison downs her shot and smiles, then looks around. “You’ve really fixed this place up since the last time I was here.”

“Not much,” I mutter. “I just covered the water stains with posters and… oh, Frank got me a couch from Goodwill.”

“Better than sitting on the floor,” Madison says, plopping down on the couch. “I see Frank has also moved most of the junk out of here.”

“Yeah, last summer,” I say, glancing at the empty space that used to be filled with furniture, tools, and Shana’s childhood toys. “The basement flooded after Hurricane Lucy. Thankfully, none of my stuff got ruined. Guess it helps that I don’t have much.”

That’s an understatement. I’ve got a bed, some clothes, a few mementos, and a box of stuff I kept when my grandmother died. Oh, and a couch, but I’m not sure if I own that or if he just put it down here for me to use.

“Are you still working at Frank’s diner?” Madison asks.

“I am,” I sigh. “I think that’s why they haven’t asked me to leave yet. He knows he doesn’t pay me enough to afford my own place. Not that he can. The diner barely turns a profit.”

“Good thing Melinda is a lawyer,” Madison laughs. “He can fuck around in the kitchen all day while she brings in the big bucks.”

“And I bring in the scraps,” I mutter under my breath.

“What did you say?” she asks, glancing over at me.

“Another shot?” I smile and reach for the bottle.

“It’s your birthday party.” She shrugs and slides her glass closer.

I’m turning twenty-two today. Birthdays are supposed to be exciting, but I haven’t been excited about one in years. Nothing exciting is happening tonight. I’m just drinking cheap vodka in someone else’s basement.

Suddenly, there’s a squeal of excitement upstairs.

“Shana must be here,” Madison says, glancing toward the stairs.

“She’s already two drinks behind,” I remark, tilting the bottle and filling two shot glasses. “That will catch her up.”

Shana stays upstairs longer than Madison did. Her parents always act like they haven’t seen her in years when she comes home from college. I wish someone got that excited to see me. My grandmother used to, but her enthusiasm faded as she got older and time took its toll.

“Where are my bitches at?” Shana calls out as she walks downstairs.

“We’re down here!” Madison yells.

“Yep,” I mutter. “Where else would I be?”

Shana’s as excited to share her updates about college as Madison was. After we hug, I get an earful about Smyrna University, her nightmare roommate, her favorite bar, and the guy from her psychology class who apparently has abs worth writing poetry about.

Seems like there are hot guys everywhere, and I’d be dating them all if I wasn’t a loser who lives in someone else’s basement.

The last time I told a guy that on our first date, he couldn’t find an excuse to bail fast enough.

I’m sure his little sister is lovely. I hope she didn’t really get attacked by a mountain lion.

“We started without you, so you’re already behind,” I say, gesturing to the shots.

“I’m not doing two on my own,” she says. “You guys can join me.”

“If we join you, then you’ll be even further behind,” Madison laughs.

“Fine, I’ll have these two and then we’ll have another,” Shana says, walking to the table.

“I like that compromise,” I say, reaching for the bottle.

This is all I really want tonight. Drinks with my best friends. Just enough for the veil to slip and for it to feel like it used to when we were foolish, happy kids. Before all our lives got complicated and mine fell apart.

“Alright, Taryn. Spill the tea,” Shana says after she’s caught up. “Dating anyone new? My dad said there’s a new busboy at the restaurant who has a thing for you.”

“Shana, he’s like sixty years old!” I groan, shaking my head. “He’s not a busboy. He’s an old man who got out of prison last year. Your dad really said he’s got a thing for me?”

“Maybe he meant someone else,” she says apprehensively.

“He’s the only one who works there other than your dad, so…” I roll my eyes and pour another round. “God, Shana. Your parents must really want me gone.”

Shana’s smile falters. “Taryn, no. They don’t want you gone.”

“Your dad wants to set me up with a felon old enough to be my grandfather,” I mutter.

“Okay, when you say it like that, it sounds bad,” she sighs, her voice getting fainter. “But I’m sure he means well.”

It isn’t the first time Shana’s dad has tried to pawn me off on the nearest guy with a pulse. There was a regular who asked for my number a few times and Shana’s dad was pretty insistent that I should give him a chance. I finally gave in and it went as horribly as I imagined it would.

“No, they’d never kick you out. Besides, my mom is baking you a cake. Do you think she’d bake you a birthday cake if she wanted you to leave?” Shana asks. “Maybe my dad was confused.”

“Yeah, maybe,” I mutter, holding up my glass.

“After this shot, you should open your presents,” Shana says, removing a wrapped box from her purse and placing it in front of me. “Mine will put you in the mood for cake. Lots of cake.”

“Open mine first,” Madison insists.

“You guys really didn’t have to bring presents,” I sigh, reaching for the gift from Madison. “You came home for my birthday weekend. That’s all I wanted.”

“We’d be terrible friends if we didn’t bring gifts,” Madison laughs. “Now open it.”

I rip the wrapping paper off and tear up when I see the gift.

It’s a framed picture of us sitting in this basement when we were in high school.

It was taken by Shana’s mother, if memory serves.

We’re all cross-legged on the floor, looking agitated that someone has violated our sanctuary, which is what the basement felt like back then.

The bottom of the frame says, “Best friends forever, no matter what,” which was our slogan. I guess it still is, since it’s the name of our group chat.

“What were we even doing?” I sigh, looking at the photograph, noticing we all look like emo goths. “This was during our witchcraft phase, wasn’t it?”

“The Covington Coven!” Madison says proudly. “If you fuck with us, we’ll put a curse on you!”

I look away when she says curse. It’s a stupid word. A childish word. The kind of word we used to throw around when we were bored girls wearing too much eyeliner.

My grandmother believed in those as much as she believed in the rest of the nonsense. Supposedly, one was cast on my family by a witch long ago. If I believed like she did, I could blame all my troubles on that, instead of accepting that the universe hates me.

“Thank you, Madison. This brings back some good memories,” I say, smiling weakly as I put the photograph on the shelf by the table.

“Okay, open mine!” Shana says excitedly, moving her gift closer.

I pick up the present and tear the paper off. Underneath the birthday wrapping is a stained matchbox, which makes me raise a brow. I slide it open and my eyes widen a little. It’s a joint.

“You bought me drugs?” I ask, a little confused. “Your parents will kill you if they find out you brought drugs into their house.”

“It’s just weed,” she sighs. “Besides, it’s legal where I go to school, so I didn’t technically break any laws. It’s not like I went to some shady drug dealer.”

“They’d still be pissed,” I say.

“Then we better burn the evidence before they find out? Right?” Shana laughs. “I told you it would put you in the mood for cake.”