44. Hunter
44
HUNTER
Six Months to Decision Day
“ T hanks for coming.”
Rae’s appreciation is unnecessary, and I’m about to tell her that when I notice her teeth chattering. We’re standing outside En Pointe, and it’s a little after nine on a chilly December night a few days before Christmas, which means the sun has been down for hours. It also means that Rae should know better than to be standing on the sidewalk in nothing but a long-sleeved leotard, tights, and long socks that come up over her knee.
“Where’s your coat?” I ask, pulling my hoodie over my head and handing it to her before she even has the chance to answer. I don’t like the idea of her being cold, even if she is just walking the short distance from the building to the car.
She swats my hand away, but I glare at her, and she caves, taking the hoodie and slipping on even as she protests. “This is completely unnecessary, and, if you must know, I left my coat at home because I wasn’t planning on being outside for long.”
Her plan changed when she inserted her key into the lock, and it got stuck, making it impossible for her to get into the building. She called me, hoping I could help her free it, and I came running because I never miss an opportunity to be in her presence. Especially on a rare night, like tonight, when neither one of us has Riley in tow. She was supposed to be with me because it’s the weekend, but she opted to take a trip with Dee, Jayla, and Sonia to Disney instead.
“Yeah.” I rub at the back of my neck, catching the bit of shade she’s cast in my direction. “I’m sorry I made the problem worse.”
And by worse I mean snapping the key in half and making it necessary for us to call a locksmith who won’t be able to come out until tomorrow morning.
Rae laughs. “It’s fine.”
We’re moving slowly down the block, walking side by side because an influx of last-minute Christmas shoppers made it impossible for either of us to get a spot close to her building. Rae’s car is all the way down by Lick, and my truck is a few spaces away in front of the little Italian place that just opened up.
“Have you eaten there?” I ask, tipping my chin in the direction of the restaurant. Rae’s eyes follow my gaze and then come back to my face, intrigued.
“No,” she says, fiddling with the hoodie sleeves hanging well past her hands. She looks adorable and happy, swimming in fabric drenched with my scent. “Do you wanna buy me dinner?”
“Always, Sunshine.”
She reaches out, wrapping her fingers around mine and leading me down the sidewalk, only letting go when I move ahead to open the door before she can pass through it. There aren’t many people inside, but it smells divine, so I’m not worried that the small number of patrons—which are primarily couples—is a sign of bad food. We’re seated immediately, placed at the back of the restaurant where the lighting is low, and there’s no one else around.
Rae’s got the menu in her hand, perusing the offerings while I stare at her. “This is nice,” she says, and I nod when she looks up at me, unable to put into words how nice it is to just sit across from her for no other reason than because we wanted to.
“Yeah, it is.”
“I do appreciate you coming out in the cold to help me. I mean, I’m sure I could have called someone else, but?—”
“No.” I cut in, shaking my head. “You don’t need to call anyone else. Ever. I’ll always come when you call.”
“I know that,” she breathes, pressing her lips together. “I know you will.”
Our waitress appears with complimentary bread sticks and water, telling us about the night’s specials while filling our glasses. When she’s done with her introductory spiel, Rae says she already knows what she wants to eat, which leaves me with mere seconds to choose which dish I want. Truthfully, I’m not all that hungry, but I still get the carbonara because it’s Rae’s favorite and for some odd reason, she chose chicken Marsala this time.
“Ohh,” she moans regretfully when the waitress leaves to put in our food. “I love carbonara.”
“I know.”
She plucks a bread stick from the basket and breaks it in half, taking a bite. “Will you share with me?”
“Why didn’t you order it if that’s what you wanted?”
“Because my therapist suggested that I make one small, random choice every day as a way to prove to myself that things can turn out okay even if I don’t try to control every aspect of them.” She shrugs, taking another bite of her bread stick. “Apparently, I have control issues.”
Picking up my glass, I take a sip of water to try and tamp down the vast amount of questions that have just popped in my mind. I want to know everything. Like when she started therapy and how long she’s been going and if, by chance, she’s talked to her therapist about the answer she’s supposed to be giving me in six months. When I trust that none of those things will come out of my mouth, I respond.
“Really?” I ask, arching a brow. “I never would have thought.”
Rae is a lot of things, but flexible isn’t one of them. There’s a reason why ballet—one of the most rigorous dance forms—is her chosen craft, a reason why she keeps Riley on a strict routine and takes the same way home every day when she picks our kid up from school. Growing up loving, and being in love with, an addict means a life of chaos, of ups and downs and highs and lows that you have no way to anticipate or control, so it makes sense to me that her reaction to the unpredictability of life with Will and with me, resulted in a fierce rigidity.
Her jaw drops in surprise and a tiny bit of offense, but she laughs. “Shut up. I’m working on it.”
“Good.” I smile, turning my glass of water around in small circles just to have something to do with my hands. “How’s the support group Nate suggested?”
“It’s nice. Did you know Taurin’s mom is a part of it?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“She shared about him the other day, talking about how she’s looking forward to them spending Christmas together,” Rae says, then she slaps a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide. “Damn. I wasn’t supposed to tell you that, was I? Aren’t these things supposed to be anonymous?”
“I think it’s fine, especially considering that she told me the same thing when I talked to her earlier this week when she came by the gym to try a yoga class.”
Her nose scrunches up. “It wasn’t goat yoga, was it?”
My laughter echoes between us, making our server smile as she appears with our plates. I wait until she leaves us alone again to ask, “What do you and your daughter have against goats?”
“Nothing.” She picks up her fork and knife, cutting into the chicken and taking a bit, nodding her approval before continuing. “I just don’t think they belong in yoga.”
“Don’t knock it until you try it, Sunshine.”
We fall into a comfortable silence, both of us enjoying our meals, only really speaking when we feel it’s necessary. For Rae, that necessity comes in the form of bullying me out of large bites of my carbonara, which is fine because I ordered it for her anyway. Towards the end of the meal, when we’re pretty much the only people in the restaurant, and we’re just sitting at the table because neither of us wants to leave the presence of the other, she turns serious almond eyes on me.
“I owe you an apology.”
My brow furrows. “An apology? For what?”
“For the way I acted when I came back.” She bites her lip. “For not seeing or appreciating the person you are now and using our past to push you away. That wasn’t fair to you, and I’m sorry for that.”
“Hey.” I reach across the table, offering her comfort with an upturned palm, which she takes with a sigh. “You don’t need to apologize. You were trying to protect yourself from being hurt again.”
Since we’ve been back in each other’s lives, we’ve had a lot of conversations. Most of them have been about Riley and what she needs, wants, and deserves from both of us. And while that’s the way it should be, I can’t help but feel like we should have made some time to have this conversation, too.
I rub my thumb over the inside of Rae’s wrist. “I’m sorry too, Sunshine,” I murmur, shaking my head as tears fill her eyes. “For fucking up so badly. For scaring you away. For leaving you alone when you needed me the most.”
“I left you alone,” Rae gasps, tears flowing freely now. “I should have come home when Will was sick. I should have been there to support him and you. I regret staying in New York so much, Hunter. More than you’ll ever know.”
“You think that’s why I relapsed?” I ask, incredulity skating across my features as she nods.
“Of course, it is. I put too much pressure on you, and you broke. I broke you,” she whimpers. “I broke us.”
“Oh, baby. Come here.” I tug on her hand, and she’s up in a second, rounding the table on shaky legs that give out as soon as she’s close enough for me to catch her. I pull her in, helping her get situated on my lap. “You didn’t break me, Rae. I was already broken. Taking care of Will brought up so much shit I hadn’t dealt with around losing my mom.”
“But if I had been there, you wouldn’t have?—”
“Yes, I would have,” I tell her, absolutely certain that’s the truth. “Because even if you were there every single day, I would have still been watching someone I love suffer. You wouldn’t have been able to distract me from that. Watching you suffer through that loss might have made the situation that much more triggering. I was happy to be there for you, to protect you from that pain even if I couldn’t do it forever.” My hand moves up and down her back, trying to soothe her as she cries harder, silent sobs shaking both of us. “But the break was always coming, Sunshine. That’s what happens when you try to walk around on a fracture and don’t give it time to heal.”
My mom was my fracture. Her death was the catalyst for my drug addiction, and losing Will opened up every wound I thought I had sealed up with the love I’d found in the family I’d created with him and Rae.
None of that was her fault, and I can’t believe she’s been walking around for so long thinking it was.
“You have saved me, Sunshine.” I lay a kiss on her temple, allowing us both a bit more comfort from physical touch. “Your love has saved me more times than I can count. It could never break me.”