2. Hunter #2
But almost has always felt safer than risking losing her altogether.
“How did you know—”
“Oh, please.” She smiles. “Everyone knows. This town’s been abuzz with the rumor of Sutton and Hunter for years.”
“Great. I’m sure she’d love to know the status of us is part of the town’s gossip.”
“She loves you too. Anyone who’s around you both can see it clear as day.”
I tuck my hands into the front pockets of my jeans, rocking back on my heels. “Yeah, well, I’m not sure if Sutton will ever actually let me love her.”
“The Hunter Michaels I’ve gotten to know would never give up that easily.” She purses her lips, attempting to keep her laughter tucked inside.
“I’ve tried telling her, Rachel, but she’s always kept her emotions regarding me locked away in that heart of hers.”
“Sounds like you better find a key,” Rachel says, as if it were that simple. She gives me a shooing motion toward the bar.
I gesture at the dishes on the table. “If I let you keep my cheeseburger too, will this settle our bet?”
Rachel laughs and nods.
As I walk toward Sutton, I pass Easton on his way out.
“Everything okay?” I tuck my hands back into my pockets.
“With me? Everything is fine. With Sutton? I think you know the answer to that. I’m going to head out, but she assured me that you’ll take care of her.” His eyebrow reaches toward his hairline, and I can see the questions he’s dying to ask me.
I shake my head back and forth. Tonight is not the night to rehash the history that is me and Sutton. “I’ve got her, man,” I say. “Thank you for keeping her company.”
“I understand it now.” He slips his black jacket on.
“Understand what?”
Now he really does roll his eyes. “Understand why in college you couldn’t go five minutes without talking about her. I’ve only just met the woman and can see how amazing she is.”
“Yes, she is.” I rub my hands over my beard and then smooth them over my long hair.
“Catch you around, Hunter.” Easton steps around me and exits the building.
For a Friday night, Big Joe’s is pretty tame.
Most people must be holding out for next weekend’s karaoke night.
The lights are dim, and a few couples sway to a slow country song playing from the jukebox.
Sutton is sitting in the same spot, her head no longer buried in her arms. She’s staring off into nowhere, spinning her glass in circles.
I slide into the high-top table right behind her. I want to sit close enough that she knows I’m here, but at the same time, I want to give her the space she needs to go through whatever it is she is going through. It doesn’t appear she’s ready to leave yet, and I’ve got all the time in the world.
She was right when she told Easton I’d take care of her.
I always have and always will.
As I settle into my seat and place my cowboy hat on the table, her shoulders lower. Maybe she can finally relax, now that I’m here with her.
Joe places a cold glass of water onto my table. “Your girl’s in a real pit tonight.”
“How much has she had?” I’m not here to police her, but I’d like to know just how sick she might be in the morning.
“Not too much. I stopped her after three shots. She was pretty pissed when the last one was water, but she didn’t say nothin’.” Joe chuckles, placing his hand on my shoulder and squeezing tight.
Of course she didn’t say anything, Sutton isn’t one to rock anyone’s boat.
Minutes tick by and, still, Sutton sits on that barstool, probably lost in the hurricane of her thoughts. Some people would barge right up to her, demand to know what was wrong, and offer advice. But that’s not how Sutton works.
We’ve spent our whole lives orbiting each other like this. Sutton needing support, and me stepping in without question. Close enough to look like something more. Careful enough to never test it. It’s hard to imagine there was ever a time I didn’t know I was in love with Sutton.
Sutton: 15 years old. Hunter: 18 years old.
Luke wades into the lake, casting his fly rod back and forth. I’m focused on prepping my line for a new fly when Sutton sits cross-legged next to me. She lets out a long, exasperated breath.
Luke peers over his shoulder, his concerned-brother face out in full-force. I give him a look, letting him know I’ll find out what’s wrong with her.
Sutton’s been Luke’s and my shadow since the first day we met at T-ball practice nearly a decade ago. Neither of us really cares, even though she’s three years younger than us. I don’t have any siblings. So getting a best friend with a built-in sister? Sign me up.
“What’re you doing?” Sutton grabs an orange-hued fly out of my tackle box, fiddles with it for a moment, then puts it back.
“Tying on a new fly,” I say. My hand hovers back and forth over the tackle box as I try to decide which one to use next.
Sutton looks at me, to my hand, and back to me. Her eyes narrow, a tiny crease forming between her brows and then grabs my hand in hers.
I jolt at the unexpected physical contact, but a warmth spreads up my fingers and through my arm. She must’ve thought I was reaching for her hand. I gesture with my chin toward the box of flies. “I was reaching for those.”
Her cheeks flush and she drops my hand. My hand instantly feels cold.
A rumbled groan sounds deep in her chest. “Um . . .” She pushes a wayward curl behind her ear. “Sorry about that.”
“Pick a fly,” I say, gesturing to the tackle box. I wait patiently while she thumbs through the selection. The sun starts to dip under the horizon. It’s almost time for magic hour.
After a minute, she hands me the orange fly that originally caught her eye.
“Want to tell me what’s wrong?” I tie the fly onto my line.
She looks toward Luke. I can only assume she’s trying to make sure he isn’t listening.
“It’s about a boy.”
“I figured that. Do I need to kick his ass?”
Her giggle bursts out, floating around the solitude of the pond. “Don’t you dare, Hunter James.”
“I can’t promise that, Sutton Joy. Now, tell me what happened.”
Her eyes narrow in annoyance. She always hates it when I use her middle name.
“You know that new guy, Brent?”
I nod as she fidgets with a plant growing on the shore.
“Well, I might have asked him to the Sadie Hawkins dance.”
“And?”
She rolls her eyes clear to the back of her head. “I don’t want to tell you.”
“Uh-huh, Sut, them’s the rules with us, right? We shoot each other straight.”
“I know,” she says. “I’m just embarrassed, okay?”
“Why would you be embarrassed?”
“Because you’re Mr. Hotshot at school, and all the girls love you. You’ve never been turned down by a girl.”
“I’ve been turned down plenty. Comes with the territory of growing up.” I cast my line into the lake. “So, he said no?”
“Okay, well, technically, he said he had a girlfriend.”
It’s my turn to roll my eyes at her. “So, he didn’t flat turn you down? Call you a troll? Say you’re the worst person ever in the whole world and he never wants to see your face again?”
“No.”
“That’s what I thought. What did he say then?”
She takes a long breath and turns her gaze to mine. Her green eyes stand out against the curls surrounding her face, and for some reason, I notice it more than I ever have.
“He said I was beautiful and nice, but he’s in a relationship and wishes the timing was different because he would have loved to get to know me better.”
“Damn, and here I was hoping I’d get to kick his ass, but it sounds like he knows a good thing when it’s right in front of him.”
A welcoming breeze washes through our sheltered cove, causing her hair to blow in every direction.
Her eyes are brighter somehow, and her smile stretches from ear to ear as she wrangles her hair into a bun.
“You don’t understand, Hunt. I’ve never asked a boy to a dance before, only to be turned down. It was so embarrassing.”
“I get it, Sutton. But I can promise you that it won’t be your last awkward moment with someone. I’m proud of you for being brave enough to ask him, because you’d have regretted it if you didn’t.”
She nods along with everything I say.
“You’re an amazing person, and any guy who doesn’t see that is an idiot. Now, grab your pole, and let’s fish.”
“I can barely fish with a regular pole. You sure you wanna keep tempting fate by teaching me to fly fish?”
“Positive. Get moving.”
She slips into a pair of my borrowed gators that are a few sizes too big. She steps in close to me and waits patiently as I tighten her shoulder straps. Her smile makes me smile, and soon we’re both laughing about nothing at all.
“You two fishing or what?” Luke hollers from down the river.
I reach forward and buckle the fishing basket around her waist. I definitely don’t miss her sudden intake of breath. What is going on in her head? Maybe it has something to do with her grabbing my hand earlier. I’ll have to save those questions for another time.
“You ready?” I step back and offer her my hand.
She stares at it like it’s a hot frying pan but eventually slips hers in mine.
“Don’t let me fall.”
“I’ll never let you fall, Sutton.”
“Hunter?” Sutton calls from her barstool. She’s got her back toward me still.
“Yeah?”
“Can we go now?”
My chair screeches as I stand quickly and step up behind her. Her black blazer is still hanging over the barstool, so I grab it, providing her one sleeve at a time. She slips her delicate arms into each sleeve and spins around to face me.
I offer her my hand, and she takes it immediately.
I grab my hat and guide her outside to my old Ford truck.
The door sticks, but I manage to wrench it open and help her inside.
She’s already in the middle of the bench seat by the time I walk around the truck bed and get in.
It rumbles to life at the same moment she lays her head on my shoulder.
“Long night?” I reach forward to crank down the window, knowing she’ll need fresh air on her face.
“Yeah, but can we not right now?”
“Okay, Sut.” I pull onto Old County Road, turning left toward our neighborhoods. “Your house or mine?”
A few beats of silence pass, and her breathing levels out. Has she fallen asleep already?