18. Hunter
18
HUNTER
Now
R iley’s first-place trophy sits in the center of the table, gleaming under the dim lights in the restaurant and upstaging the dry excuse for bread sticks Aaron ordered when we sat down.
He doesn’t want me here.
That much is clear from the way he glares at me every time Rae and I share a laugh over my interaction with Pierre. We’re laughing about it right now, and while I’m tuned into the way Rae’s lips curve every time she smiles, I’m also painfully aware of the daggers he’s sending me from across the table.
“I don’t think there’s anything funny about threatening someone else’s child,” he says, plucking a bread stick from the basket and breaking a piece off. “You know Riley could get kicked out of school for the stunt you pulled.”
Rae’s smile falters. I watch her hide the crack in her joy behind a sip of water and find myself wondering for the millionth time why she’s with this guy. I don’t think I’ve seen them share a genuine moment of affection since we sat down at the table, and everything about Rae’s posture suggests that they’re not quite as solid as Aaron’s arm draped over the back of her chair makes them seem.
“Don’t say that, Aaron,” she says through clenched teeth with her eyes on Riley to see if she heard what was said. Luckily, she’s too caught up in solving the word search on the back of her kid’s menu to notice.
“It’s true,” Aaron insists, unaware or unconcerned with the growing tension in Rae’s shoulders. “All that kid would have to do is tell his parents about Hunter’s brutish behavior, and they’d go to the headmaster?—”
“Mistress,” I correct.
The veins in both of his temples bulge at the same time. “Either way, all the parents would have to do is file a complaint, and then that’d be the end of that. They don’t give refunds on tuition either, so in addition to the embarrassment of being dismissed from the school, we’d be out tens of thousands of dollars.”
“That won’t happen, Aaron.”
“And what are you going to do if it does, Hunter? March up to the school and threaten the headmistress until she agrees to let Riley stay?”
One day, very, very soon, I’m going to give in to my urge to punch this asshole in the face, but today I settle for the satisfaction of blowing his mind by showing him that I have more than strength and good looks on my side.
“No, I’d probably just call up my good friend, Sorel Hartwick, and explain the situation, making sure she’s aware that I was acting from a place of pure concern for my daughter. Since her name is on the door, and she sits on the Board of Directors for the school, I’m sure she’d be able to smooth over any bumps in the road my brutish approach might have caused.”
“You know a Hartwick?” Rae asks, impressed even though she doesn’t want to be.
“Sorel was a friend of Legacy’s,” I say, toying with my napkin. “We’ve stayed in touch over the years. She comes to the gym sometimes for goat yoga.”
At the mention of Legacy, Rae’s features soften. She holds my gaze and that thing that happens every time we look at each other in the eye for too long starts to happen. Threads of fate unravel between us. One end of each string is attached to my heart while the other roots around, trying to find a home in hers. Seconds pass in the form of memories only we can see, moving so slowly they create a new path for time. One where only Rae and I exist.
“Goat yoga?!” Riley exclaims, pulling us out of our bubble. “Who would want to do yoga with goats?”
Riley is the only person I’d never resent for interrupting a moment with Rae, so I turn an indulgent smile on her. “A lot of people.”
“You?” she asks, brows furrowed together.
“I tried it once,” I admit, which makes Riley and her mom laugh. “I had to see what it was about.”
Even though I’ve managed to lighten the mood, Aaron seems determined to make it turn dim again. He doesn’t share in our laughter, which causes Rae to pull back, too. She tries to make her fading humor look natural, so Riley or I don’t notice.
But I do notice, and it pisses me the fuck off.
“Maybe you could ask her to give us a friend’s and family discount on the outrageous tuition the next time you two are doing downward facing dog with a goat on your back,” Aaron says, infusing false levity into his voice to make it sound like a joke even though every adult at the table knows it’s not.
“ Aaron. ”
Rae is at her wit’s end, so her tone is lethal and unforgiving. While she processes her feelings, I take the opportunity to jump on a topic I’ve been meaning to broach for a while now.
“A discount won’t be necessary because I’ll be taking over Riley’s tuition payments.”
I’m not asking, mainly because it doesn’t sit right with me to have another man paying for anything that has to do with my daughter when I’m more than capable of doing so myself, but Rae still shakes her head and says, “No, I can’t let you do that,” while Aaron sits there like a slack jawed fool.
“You’re not letting me do anything, Rae. She’s my daughter, and it’s my job to provide for her.” I look at Riley, relieved to see that she’s once again tuned us out. “I’ve missed out on nearly ten years of birthdays, Christmases, sports, and special interests, so I’ve got a lot of making up to do. Let me start with this.”
I don’t mention that taking over tuition payments is also the first step in my plan to help make Rae’s ballet school a reality because I don’t want to mention it in front of Aaron, and I’m still waiting for the other, most important, part of all of this to come together.
“Hunter, I?—”
“Just say yes, Rae.”
I don’t mean for it to come out as an order, but it does, and heat flashes in her eyes as the authoritative growl unearths memories of a time when she never hesitated to say yes to me because she trusted me to take care of her mentally, emotionally, and physically.
“We’ll consider it,” Aaron says, placing his hand over Rae’s.
My first instinct is to tell him to fuck off because I wasn’t talking to him, but I think I’ve threatened enough little boys for today, so I nod like I don’t plan to push Rae for an answer the next time we’re alone and focus my attention on the menu.
The rest of our dinner passes by in an uneventful blur that’s only tolerable because I get to sit next to Riley for the entirety of it. I get to watch her devour an entire plate of plain spaghetti noodles with nothing but grated Parmesan on top and decline Rae’s offer to try her carbonara dish several times. Then I get to see Rae pout about how unfair it is that she takes a bite of my lasagna as soon as I offer it. Aaron stays quiet during all of these exchanges, spending most of his time slugging down the bottle of red wine he ordered—which made it necessary for me to explain to my nine-year-old what it means to be sober—and typing on his phone under the table.
Rae does the best she can to ignore his petulant behavior, but by the time we’re making our way to our separate vehicles, she looks ready to explode. I don’t feel all that comfortable with leaving Riley to ride with them when I can tell by how hard Rae is grasping the keys that she’s going to lay into Aaron on the way home, but the curse of being a former absentee father is that you don’t get a lot of say in situations like this. You get to pick one battle per day, and today, I chose tuition, which means I can’t voice my opinions on the car ride or offer any kind of solution.
“Daddy, can you take me home?” Riley asks as we walk hand in hand to Aaron’s car.
“Oh. I don’t know, Ri, you’d have to ask your mom.”
“Mommy! Can Daddy take me home?”
Nothing but a weary sigh proceeds Rae’s response. “If he doesn’t mind, baby.”
“I don’t mind.”
I’d actually prefer to put them both in my car and take them far away from the human embodiment of misery that is Aaron Scott, but I know that’s not an option right now. Rae flashes me a tight smile, and my heart aches as the desire to fix everything that’s wrong in her life comes rushing to the surface, refusing to be held at bay any longer.
“Thanks,” she says, unlocking the car doors. “You can just follow me. It’s like a five-minute drive.”
“Sounds good.” I scoop Ri up, placing her on my back while she clutches her trophy tight. “Let’s go, Nugget.”
By the time I get Riley settled in my backseat and pull out of my parking spot, Rae is already waiting for us at the exit with her right blinker flashing. I put my blinker on, too, then flash my lights at her to let her know I’m ready to go. She whips the car onto the road and accelerates. From the back seat, Riley says, “Mommy drives fast when she’s mad.”
I don’t laugh even though I want to, even though I remember the one time I let Rae get behind the wheel of my car when she was mad at me, and she flew through a stop sign and got upset with me when the other vehicles in the intersection blew their horns at her.
“How do you feel about winning first place at the science fair?” I ask, changing the subject to a safer topic.
“Good! I feel even better that you stopped Pierre and his friends from being mean to me. I can’t wait to tell Scarlett all about it.” From the rearview, I can see her wide smile as she looks out the window.
“Where was Scarlett tonight anyway? I was looking forward to meeting your new best friend.”
Most of our post-school calls are filled with the Adventures of Riley and Scarlett. I was looking forward to meeting the little spitfire who has quickly become the Deanna to Riley’s Rae.
“She was sick,” Riley says. “She threw up in class, and Ms. Ryder made her mom come and get her.”
Rae switches lanes, and I follow her lead, watching as she gestures wildly with one hand through the back window of the car. The evidence of her outrage illuminated by my headlights. Aaron is slumped down in his seat, probably too far gone on wine to engage or defend himself.
“Oh, that’s too bad. I’m sure she was sad to miss your big win.”
“Mommy took pictures. She said she’ll send them to Scarlett’s mom so she doesn’t feel like she missed anything.”
“That’s cool. You have a pretty awesome mom, don’t you?”
Riley nods enthusiastically, which makes my chest go warm. Watching Rae be a mother is one of the many things I thought I’d lost forever to my battle with addiction, so every time I get to see her and Riley together or just talk about how amazing she is with our kid, I feel a surge of pride.
“You’re pretty awesome too, Daddy,” she tells me, shredding my heart with the well-placed compliment. Emotion clogs my throat, making it hard for me to respond, but somehow, I manage to push the words out.
“Thanks, Nugget. You’re not too bad yourself.”
“Do you have a daddy?”
I should have seen this coming. Riley is one of those kids who notices everything, even if she doesn’t comment on it right away. I should have known that she’d eventually bring up why I’m the only new person in her life. Dads usually come with a whole host of people in tow, grandparents, uncles, aunts, maybe even cousins, but all Riley’s gotten out of the deal is me and an uncle who lives eight hours away and isn’t yet aware of her existence because even though our relationship has improved the longer I’ve been clean, we still don’t talk much.
“Uh, I had a dad, yeah, but he and my mom died before I met your mommy.”
“Oh. That sucks.”
I huff out a short laugh. “Yeah, it does. They would have spoiled you rotten.”
“Marcy says being spoiled isn’t a good thing.”
I frown. “Who’s Marcy?”
“Aaron’s mom. She lives with us at our house.”
Suddenly, everything about Aaron’s fucked up personality makes sense to me. Of course, he’s a little bitch boy with a buzzkill for a mother. I bet together, the two of them suck all the joy out of that house.
“Oh, well, I don’t know why Marcy would say that, but there’s nothing wrong with being spoiled unless, of course, you’re a piece of fruit.”
I’ve been a dad for all of two seconds, and I’m already making dad jokes. I shake my head, hating myself just a little but not caring because the joke serves its purpose. Riley giggles and forgets all about the misery awaiting her at home, and I join in, too, cracking more jokes to make her laugh and distract myself from the fact that at the end of this car ride, I’ll have to let her go.
By the time we arrive at Rae’s house, my face hurts from smiling so much. Rae parks Aaron’s luxury vehicle next to the car I see her in all the time, and I pull up behind her, noting that she hasn’t cut the engine yet. I wait for a moment to see if they’re going to get out, but Riley gets impatient, unhooking her seat belt and grabbing her trophy, which leaves me with no choice but to hop out of my truck and help her down. When I decided to take the truck instead of the car, I didn’t think she’d be riding home with me. I had no reason to since I’ve never driven her anywhere before, but that still doesn’t stop me from feeling like an idiot for not choosing the vehicle that would have been easier for her to maneuver in and out of. To make myself feel better, and to put one last smile on Riley’s face for the night, I scoop her up off her seat and sling her around until she’s on my back for the second time tonight.
Her giggles of delight fill my ear as I bounce her all the way to the front door, only sparing the car where Aaron and Rae still are a passing glance. When we get to the door, I crouch down to make it easier for Riley to slide off, and she plants a kiss on my forehead.
I look up at her, fighting back the very real urge to cry at how precious she is. “What was that for?”
She shrugs her little shoulders, squeezing the base of the trophy tight. “Just because.”
“Can I have a just-because hug too?” I ask, opening my arms wide.
“Sure.” She wraps her arms around my neck and squeezes, allowing me just a second to squeeze her back.
“I love you, Nugget,” I remind her, the way I have every time we’ve said goodbye since we’ve known each other. She’s never said it back, but that’s okay. I don’t want her to give her love freely, to dispense it just because we share DNA. I want her to be stingy with it, discerning about who she gives it to. That way, it’ll be so much sweeter when she chooses to give it to me.
When I let her go, she’s smiling again, basking in the glow of a bond we’ve only just established. I watch that smile fall when the front door opens, the light from the entryway cutting a harsh line across Riley’s face as an older woman steps onto the porch with us.
“Riley! What are you doing out here?” The woman, who I can only assume is Marcy, asks, literally clutching her pearls as she watches me straighten to my full height. “And who are you?”
I extend my hand, offering her a courteous smile. “I’m Hunter Drake, ma’am, Riley’s father.”
“Oh, hello.” She doesn’t take my hand; she just puts the one not at her neck on Riley’s shoulder and guides her inside. “Where are Aaron and Rae?”
“They’re in the car,” Riley says, inside the house now but still lingering on the threshold because we haven’t said a proper goodbye yet.
Marcy peeks her head out the door like she’s looking for proof that the statement is true. When she sees the running car in the driveway in front of my truck, she sighs in relief.
“Okay, well, let’s get you inside, Riley.” She glances at me, judgment and disdain all in her eyes. “Thanks for bringing her to the door.”
“No problem.”
“Goodnight, Daddy,” Riley says in a sing-song voice that makes me smile.
“Goodnight, Daughter.” Marcy gives us both an odd look, so I tack on. “Goodnight, Mrs. Scott,” just because I know it’ll freak her the fuck out to know that I know her last name. Years of being my size and looking the way that I do have taught me that some people will go out of their way to find a reason to be afraid of me.
Aaron has probably told her all about my history of addiction and all the tattoos. He’s probably made me out to be some caveman who grunts and resorts to violence at every turn, doing everything he can to paint an image of me his mother will go out of her way to uphold in an effort to support her son. Tonight, me standing on her doorstep with knowledge of her last name is that proof and it doesn’t matter that I got the information from Rae or that there was nothing sinister in my tone when I said it. She chooses to be afraid because any alternative would be a direct affront to the narrative she and her son have crafted.
As expected, her eyes go wide, and she steps back even though I haven’t advanced on her at all. “Good night,” she says, rushing to close the door. I hear the deadbolt engage and laugh to myself as I walk down the steps. Meeting Marcy explains so much about Aaron, but it does nothing to help me understand how Rae can stomach the two of them every day.
When I reach the end of the short walkway that leads from the driveway to the door, I pause, battling with myself about whether I should check in on Rae before I go or just leave well enough alone. Leaving would be the proper thing to do, but I don’t like Aaron when he’s sober, and I don’t trust him when he’s drunk, so that option doesn’t sit right with me. I walk up to the car and rap on his window, gesturing for him to roll it down when he scowls at me through the glass.
“What do you?—”
I hold a hand up, cutting him off so I can address the only person in the car I give a fuck about. “You good, Rae?”
She’s not good. I can tell by the way her eyes are shining with unshed tears. I know from first-hand experience that those are tears of fury, not sadness, which means Aaron is in danger of losing his head if he doesn’t tread carefully.
“I’m fine, Hunter. Thanks for getting Ri in the house and for being here tonight. It meant a lot to her.”
“Of course, anything for my girls.”
Rae was intentional about not saying my presence meant a lot to her, too, so I’m just as intentional about reminding her that Riley might be my first priority, but she’s my second. I know she catches my meaning when her eyes take on that dazed look. Aaron fumes between us, but he doesn’t say anything, which is preferable but also surprising. I knew he was weak, but I didn’t think he was that weak. I mean sitting there pouting while another man reminds the woman you both love that she’s his has to be a new low, even for him.
Satisfied that Rae is fine, I tap the top of the car. “Goodnight, Sunshine.”
Coming home to all the lights in the house on and the sound of the TV blasting is something I haven’t experienced since I shared my home with Rae over ten years ago, so it’s taken some getting used to. And by getting used to, I mean pretending not to be annoyed every time I come home to it because I don’t want Taurin to feel like he has to walk on eggshells around me.
We’ve been living together for almost a month now, and he’s comfortable here. Given that his parents have turned down every request to meet—despite him having close two months of sobriety under his belt, getting back in school and doing well, and working at the gym for me—his comfort here is a good thing, a necessary thing, the only thing that will keep him off the streets and on a path to the life he would have had if a basketball injury hadn’t led him to a pain pill prescription that jump-started his opioid addiction.
Our arrangement isn’t traditional by any means, but it’s been working for us, and I hope it stays that way, even if he is the messiest housemate I’ve ever had.
“T!” I yell out as I enter through the backdoor and get slapped in the face with a pile of dishes in the sink and an open box of cereal on the counter. He comes running from the living room with a bowl of cereal in hand, sloshing milk around.
“Yeah?” I wave a hand in the general direction of the mess and give him a ‘what the fuck’ look. He shoves a spoonful of cereal into his mouth and nods. “I got you, man. Let me finish this bowl, and then I’ll take care of it.”
I cross my arms and stare at him, and he starts to chew faster, washing down his last bite with noisy slurps of his milk before making his way over to the sink.
“Strict as hell around here,” he mutters under his breath.
“Gotta be when I’m dealing with gremlins like you.”
“Speaking of gremlins, how’s your kid?”
Taurin and I have spent a lot of time outside of meetings expanding on the things we’ve shared inside them. I’ve learned about the friends he grew up playing ball with, the girlfriend who’s a cheerleader and a year older than him, the subjects he struggles with in school, and the bond he has with his little brother, Terrance. In return, I’ve shared details of my burgeoning bond with Riley, expressing some doubts about being good enough for her but still trying my best while he assured me that was enough.
“She’s great. She won first place in the science fair.”
“Cool. What’d she do?”
“Water filtration system,” I tell him, pulling out my phone and walking over to the sink to show him pictures of Riley and her whole setup.
“Damn. That’s like seventh-grade-level stuff. Isn’t she just in third grade?”
“Fourth.”
“Same grade as my little brother,” he says, turning back to the dishes to hide the fact that his happy, open expression has morphed into one of sadness.
“You miss him a lot, huh?”
Taurin nods, running a soapy dishcloth over a plate that he’s already washed. “Yeah, but I messed up, so I don’t deserve to see him again.”
Something about the statement pulls on my heartstrings because I know it’s hard for addicts to feel worthy of second chances. Hell, I’m still trying to feel worthy of the one I’ve been given, but I don’t want Taurin to be like me—doing the work but still holding the past against himself.
“Taurin.” I place a hand on his shoulder. “That’s not true. Whether or not you get it, you do deserve a second chance. The work you’re doing to improve yourself is proof that you deserve one, so just keep doing the work, okay?”
“Okay.”
Even though I’m tired, I stash my phone in my pocket and help Taurin finish cleaning the kitchen. Between the two of us, we have the place spotless in record time. Once we’re done, I head up to bed, making sure to tell him to turn in soon since it’s a school night. After my shower, I collapse into bed with every intention of falling asleep but find myself looking through the pictures of Riley on my phone. Most of them feature Rae in some way. She’s always around, holding Riley’s hand and walking down the sidewalk or running her fingers over Riley’s hair when a trip down the slide has caused her wild curls to break away from the puff she occasionally wears.
There is one photo that’s just of Rae, though. I took it one day when we were at the park by the gym, not noticing that Riley was out of frame. Rae is wearing a soft pink t-shirt and some light-washed jeans, a pair of crisp white Converses on her feet, and her head is thrown back as she laughs at something Riley has just said. Sunlight filters through the ends of her hair, kissing the tip of every curl. She looks happy and carefree, nothing like the tense and exasperated person she is when Aaron is around.
I liked the picture so much I made it her contact photo, so I could see it every time she reaches out. It’s on my screen right now, accompanied by the vibrations that announce an incoming call that I answer immediately.
“Rae, what’s wrong? Are you okay? Is Riley okay?”
My feet are already on the ground. My body refusing to wait for her voice to start making my way to her, to them.
“I’m fine, Hunter. Everything is fine,” she says softly.
“Why are you whispering?”
“Because everyone is asleep, and I—” she pauses, the shuffling on the other end of the line telling me she’s walking somewhere. While I wait for her to continue, I analyze her breathing, listening for any signs of distress, deflating into a heap of relief when I hear none. “—I needed to talk to you,” she says, finally finishing her thought.
I relax back into my mattress. “About what?”
Rae is quiet, and I hear a door open and close, then she’s back, talking at a normal volume. “I wanted to say thank you.”
“You already thanked me once, Rae. You don’t need to do it again. You didn’t need to do it the first time.”
“I know, but I just—” The line goes quiet again, and I wait patiently for her to finish her thought. “You’re really good at this, Hunter,” she breathes. “And I shouldn’t be surprised. I’m not surprised because at one point in my life, I pictured you as a father on the daily, but then?—”
“But then I messed it all up,” I finish for her. “And you walked away because you didn’t trust that I could be good for Riley.”
Or for you.
I think the words, but I don’t say them because they don’t need to be said.
“I was wrong.”
Regret coats those three words in heavy layers that drip remorse, and even though it would be so easy to agree, so easy to let Rae think she made a mistake back then, I can’t.
“No, you weren’t, Sunshine. The man you left, the one you walked away from, he wasn’t any good for you, and he was no good for our daughter. You knew that, and you made the only decision you could. You left, and it was the wake-up call I needed. You left, and I became the best version of myself, and now you’re back, and I get to be that man every day for Riley.”
For you.
Again, I don’t speak the words, but I know she senses them in the silence of the omission. She takes a shaky, gasping breath, and I close my eyes, praying to God she’s not crying. I hate when Rae cries; it makes me want to murder someone.
“She loves you, you know?”
I picture our daughter’s face, recalling her scent and smile. “I know. I love her too, so much. You’ve done an amazing job raising her for the most part.”
“ For the most part ?” I can hear sass all in her tone, and I smile, happy my playful jab is bringing her out of whatever mood she was in when she called. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”
I turn over on my side, letting the phone rest on my face. “It means you did an amazing job keeping her safe, making her smart and well-mannered, but you dropped the ball when it comes to shit-talking. Our girl definitely shouldn’t have been bested by a little asshole who couldn’t come up with something better than ‘Unisex Riley.’”
“Oh my, God.” Rae snorts, and there’s humor laced all the way through it, and I smile, proud to be responsible for such a beautiful sound. “Why was I thinking the same thing?”