Chapter 39
Chapter
Thirty-Nine
Sarah: It kills me I can’t be there. Any updates?
Natalie: Things are the same. No new answers.
“Hunter, oh my god!”
I can’t believe he’s here—how is it possible? Rushing to his side, I throw my arms around him and inhale the scent of his cologne and clean laundry. It’s the first time I’ve been able to breathe deeply in hours, and it calms my racing heart.
“I brought provisions.” Holding up a drink carrier and a brown paper Starbucks bag, he smiles at my mom behind me. “I thought you might need some sustenance.”
My mom blinks. “That’s so thoughtful of you.”
“I didn’t know what you liked, Mrs. Rios, so I just got a latte. I hope that’s okay.”
Wrapping her hands around the white cup, my mom’s tired eyes light up. “I can’t remember the last time I had a fancy cup of coffee. Thank you so much for the treat.”
She gazes at Hunter like the sun is shining out of his pores—she has it bad for him. Although I have to admit, as he rattles the Starbucks bag and tells us there are chocolate croissants in there, my heart lurches.
I have it bad, too. He showed up here for me. He can’t even drive, I have no idea how he juggled his crutches and the food he’s holding, but he came. He brought me breakfast. Tears spring to my eyes as he gives me a mocha.
Setting down the croissants, he moves to my mom’s side. “Mrs. Rios, if you want, you can go home and get some rest. Natalie and I can stay for a bit.”
Now it’s my mom’s turn to cry.“Are you sure?”
She looks at me and bites her lip, hopeful and uncertain.
I nod.“They just got him settled in his room, I bet he’ll be okay. If you take the bus home and leave me the car, we can trade off.”
Blubbering, she gives me a hug and then embraces Hunter. “I’ll go check on him and then take your offer.”
Grabbing her purse and a croissant, she waves on her way out of the waiting area. I sink into a hard upholstered chair and let Hunter bring me a breakfast sandwich. He sets his crutches down and sits next to me.
“Well, that solidifies it. You’ll forever be her favorite.” I keep my tone light, still fighting to talk around the lump in my throat.
Grabbing a scarred wooden end table for our food, I drag it closer with my foot. It screeches across the floor, making Hunter wince.
He takes a sip of his coffee.“I guess you’ll have to keep me around, then.”
His crystal blue eyes twinkle over the rim of his cup, and even though I’m so tired my vision is blurring, a twinge of desire flashes through me.
“Coffee and croissants? You know I will.”
Opening the takeout bag, he hands me a wrapped sandwich and takes one for himself. Unwrapping it, he digs in. The scent of eggs and bacon hit me and my stomach rumbles. The croissant is flaky and perfect and I’m too hungry to stop and talk so we eat in silence. I wash it down with a sip of hot coffee, the right blend of bitter and sweet.
Then I sit back in my chair and sigh. “Thank you for that. I’m not sure I’ve ever enjoyed breakfast so much in my life.”
“You’re welcome. I like taking care of you for a change.” After balling up his napkin and tossing it in the trash can, Hunter grabs my hand, playing with my fingers. “So. How are you doing?”
“Trying not to think about it, I guess?” I bite my lip and shrug. “But there’s lots of things to be thankful for, lots of good news and silver linings. There’s a chance they can adjust his dialysis regimen without too much damage to his other organs. And while it’s terrible, it actually moves him up on the transplant list. And—”
“Natalie, can I ask you a question?” Shifting closer, he interrupts me, his gaze cautious.
“Uh, okay.” Where is this going?
“Why are you always so positive?” Hunter raises his brows. He looks curious to hear my answer, not like he’s judging me. So I think about it.
Am I naturally an optimist? Probably. Do I want to be surrounded by constant complaints? Definitely not. Is it a coping mechanism? Maybe.
“I’m not sure,” I say out loud. “I try to see the good in hard things.”
Hunter gives me a soft smile. “It drove me crazy at first, but now I appreciate that about you. However, I think sometimes it’s okay to admit that things suck.”
I huff a laugh. “You’re one to talk, Oscar the Grouch.”
Hunter shakes his head, his dimple popping out with his wide grin. “It’s true, and there are times I can’t get out of my trash can. But you need to know—you don’t have to put on a happy face for me. You can be real.”
A lump forms in my throat again and my chest burns. “I don’t want to be pitied, to be a burden. So yeah, there are probably times when I force myself to be positive when I’m not feeling it.”
“That’s okay. I just—it was when I saw you get frustrated with me and drop the sunshine act that I was first attracted to you.”
“Really?”
“You, being all feisty and not letting me walk all over you? So hot.” He clears his throat, glancing at the linoleum floor and then back up to meet my gaze. “But also, I want you to know—it’s okay if you’re not always okay. You can admit things are hard and you’re stressed or anxious. You won’t scare me off if you’re real about that.”
Relief that I didn’t know was missing fills me up. He’s right. I’ve always worried that if I was genuine with people—if I was anything less than pleasant, helpful, and productive, then they wouldn’t stick around. If I let my blog followers see the real me, they’d unsubscribe. If I complained to my classmates, they wouldn’t invite me to study. If I wasn’t a model employee, I’d get fired. And that proved to be true, didn’t it? Javier pulled away when my dad didn’t get better. It was easier for him to stay in Bloomington than deal with me and my issues. Friends from church responded the same way. Once we became a burden, they were done. So I have to always stay positive and jump into help. If I’m a problem, people will leave.
But Hunter hasn’t left yet. Instead of sending useless flowers to the hospital, he came. He brought me food and took care of my mom. Maybe he’s the real deal—and maybe I can be real with him, too.
I sit my coffee on the table and get up, then settle myself down on his lap. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I rest my head on his shoulder.
“That’s maybe the nicest thing anyone has ever told me. Thank you, Hunter.”
“I love you,” he says, words muffled against the top of my head. Then he shifts, digging his phone out of his pocket. “I downloaded Notting Hill the other day. Wanna watch it with me?”
“You randomly downloaded my favorite movie?” I tease, snuggling closer. My chest might explode, thanks to the fireworks he’s setting off inside me.
“No, it’s clearly because I love Hugh Grant. Now, shut up so I can hear it.”
He presses play, and I stay there until I fall asleep, letting him hold me.