39. Bi would’ve been fine #2
He glanced over his shoulder and caught Colby kind of stutter-step at the sight of Mr. Law standing in the kitchen.
Mr. Law is how Colby insisted on addressing Hunter’s dad even though Hunter’s dad said he could call him Greg.
He had thrown on more clothes too, wearing a plain white T-shirt and a pair of joggers.
“Slept okay. Really wish I didn’t have to fly home tonight. ”
“I’m shocked Ford let you come at all,” Hunter said as he watched the espresso drip into the mug he’d brought down from the cupboard earlier for this reason. “I’m grateful.”
“He didn’t. He was furious when I called him from the airport and explained I needed time off,” Colby replied, and Hunter wasn’t even shocked.
Ford would always be Ford. But it felt nice that Colby prioritized Hunter and stood up to him this time.
Colby must have noted Hunter’s dad’s lack of understanding, so he added, “Ford is my band’s manager.
My manager. And we’re in the middle of recording our second album, so he’s… stressed.”
“And just generally an asshole on a good day,” Hunter muttered, and Colby just quirked his lips up in a bit of a smile.
“Well, thank you for making the trip,” Greg said with a genuine smile. “I’m going to go shower.”
As his dad left the room, Hunter finished making Colby the perfect coffee. He crossed the small room and handed the mug to Colby. Their fingers brushed slowly and with purpose as they exchanged the steamy homemade latte topped with cinnamon.
“Thanks, baby,” Colby whispered so quietly it was almost more like he mouthed the words. And then his gray-blue eyes fell to Hunter’s shirt and his dimple woke up for the day. “Nice shirt.”
“My favorite band,” Hunter said with a shrug. “I saw them recently in Spain, and they’re fire.”
“You were in Spain?” Colby blinked. “At our concert?”
“Yeah. We were filming a couple hours away from San Sebastián, and my day off aligned.” Hunter leaned back against the island and watched Colby take a sip. “And before you ask, you know why I didn’t tell you.”
“Yeah. I know.” Colby sounded so fucking sad.
He took another, bigger sip of the latte and came away with a foam mustache.
Hunter pushed himself off the counter and slowly, gently cupped the side of Colby’s face and used his thumb to wipe it away.
Colby’s eyelids fluttered, inadvertently mimicking the butterflies in Hunter’s belly.
“You’re not worried your dad will walk back in? ”
“He knows.” Colby’s whole body tensed and his face went ashy. Hunter sucked the foam off his finger and cupped Colby’s face again, tingling everywhere at the feel of his unshaven face against his palm. “He’s okay. Like, didn’t even blink.”
“Oh.” Hunter knew the sadness drifting over Colby’s features was about his family dynamic, not Hunter’s. “I’m glad, Hunter. He’s great, and you deserve great.”
“So do you, so I’m really just lucky, and I’m also sorry you weren’t lucky with your dad,” Hunter said and reached up to brush Colby’s bed head off his forehead. The scar from the van incident was still visible, but only because Hunter knew where to look. To think that was years ago.
And now they were both millionaires doing what they’d dreamed of back then…
and Hunter was motherless. Colby’s phone buzzed from the pocket of his joggers.
Hunter’s dark eyes dropped to the screen as Colby pulled it out, rolled his eyes, and walked back to the island.
“Speak of the asshole, and he shall appear.”
Colby answered the call. “Hey Fo—”
“Get the fuck back here!” Ford wasn’t on speaker, but he was yelling so loudly Hunter could hear him like he was.
“Don’t scream at me,” Colby replied, his voice terse but level. “I’m on a flight tonight. I know we have studio time tomorrow afternoon.”
“Trevor is MIA. He’s not answering his phone! If he’s at your house, he’s not letting us in!” Ford was still screeching. “You have to get back here and let us the fuck in!”
“It’s Trev, he’s probably passed out.”
“Marley OD’d.”
Hunter’s spine stiffened, and he strode back over to Colby, who was frozen with his mouth hanging open. “Wh—”
“Did he say someone OD’d? Who is Marley?” Hunter whispered.
Colby brought the phone away from his ear and hit the speaker button. Ford’s voice was so loud it bounced off the kitchen walls. “I don’t know if she’s gonna fucking live, Colby. And Trevor is missing. He was with her, but he left her at the club, and now he’s fucking missing. Get fucking home!”
“I am. Tonight. Look, the garage door is on an app. I can open it from my phone,” Colby explained. “Are you at my place?”
“No. But I can get there.”
“Fine. Go now, then call me and I’ll open the door,” Colby said.
He was about to hang up when Ford added, “The press is already getting wind of this shit show, and they’ll be looking for you and Kenner and obviously Trevor to comment.
So unless you want them to know why you ghosted your band and left Trevor all this free time to get fucked up with Marley, then I suggest you pay your respects to Hunter and get the fuck back here.
Or pay your respects to your career. Because the media will wreck you over this, not to mention the fans. Hunter will be Yoko fucking Ono.”
The line went dead, and Colby exhaled loudly. “I didn’t fucking do anything.”
“You didn’t, but we both know that doesn’t fucking matter.” Hudson sighed. “You shower, and I’ll look to see if there’s an earlier flight.”
After he showered, Colby fielded calls from the label’s PR guy and then from Ford again when he got to Colby’s house. Colby opened the garage door from his phone, and they both sat on Hunter’s bed and listened as Ford marched through the house yelling Trevor’s name. He wasn’t home.
“Where is Romaine?” Colby asked. Hunter had no idea who that was.
“He was with them at the club, but when Marley started seizing and foaming at the fucking mouth in the VIP area, he got distracted, and Trevor slipped him,” Ford explained. “I gotta go. Get home.”
The line went dead again. Colby finished dressing and packing and explained that Romaine was the therapist and drug counselor hired by the label to clandestinely treat Trevor so they could keep making the album. Hunter’s eyebrows raised at that. “They’re trusting a dude named after lettuce?”
Colby smiled despite everything because, of course, that was Hunter’s first thought. Half an hour later, Colby’s flight had been bumped up, and he was standing on the curb outside Hunter’s apartment waiting for an Uber. Hunter stood beside him.
“I wish I could stay.”
“Me too.”
Colby tilted his head. He had sunglasses on under his baseball cap, so Hunter couldn’t be sure, but he guessed he was scanning the area to make sure they didn’t have too many onlookers.
There were two ten-year-olds at the other end of the street playing road hockey and an elderly woman watering plants.
Colby reached out and let his fingers brush his band’s logo across Hunter’s chest. He paused to press his fingers just left of Hunter’s sternum, over his heart, and then he pulled away.
Hunter ignored the warmth that spread throughout his body from the simple touch. “You still take Uber? Brave.”
“Yeah. They’re usually pretty cool if they recognize me. I’ve only had one driver beg for a selfie, and one make me record a video singing happy birthday to her cousin,” Colby explained. “And here, in a foreign country, I’m less likely to get noticed.”
Hunter scoffed. “Dude, it’s Canada, not Liechtenstein.”
Colby grinned, bringing sunshine to the overcast day. “You never showed me the beaver they assigned you at birth. Did Zeus eat him?”
They both laughed as the Uber pulled up to the curb. Colby stepped toward Hunter, eyes soft, arms lifting to pull him into a hug, but then the driver spoke. “Holy shit… are you… Hunter Law?”
Right. Fuck. Hunter hadn’t worn a hat or sunglasses or anything.
He turned to meet the driver’s eye. He was maybe five years older than Hunter and Colby.
He had lowered the passenger window and was peering through it with an excited smile.
“I heard you were from Montreal, but I had no idea you still lived here.”
“I don’t. I had a thing…” Hunter mumbled but smiled at the guy. Colby walked over, opened the back door, and tossed in his only bag, a duffle-style leather carry-on. “Take care and thank you again.”
“Always. And you, too. Take care.”
“Can I get a selfie, dude?” the driver asked, still not recognizing Colby. “My girlfriend loved your Planet movie, and I can’t wait for your new one. The one with those kick-ass Byrne brothers. Have you filmed that yet? How cool is it to work with those guys?”
“Yeah, it’s done filming. You’re gonna love it.”
“So, selfie?” he pushed. Colby frowned but said nothing because he was still incognito and he, like Hunter, knew it was best he stay that way.
Hunter would rather go back to bartending at Range than take a selfie the day after his mother’s funeral, but there was no way to explain it to this guy without sharing his loss with a stranger and also risking him being offended.
So he just nodded. After the dude got out of the car and took a selfie with Hunter, who probably looked like he was grimacing, not smiling, he pulled away from the curb.
Hunter watched Colby disappear, not knowing when he’d see him again.