Chapter Fifteen
Lucas
Me: I’m sorry.
My text from Sunday night has gone unanswered.
I spent the last two Tuesdays with Hunter, and I’ve already gotten used to it, so this one feels heavy and lonely, which pisses me off.
Why the fuck did I let myself do any of this?
Spend time with Hunter, get wrapped up in him so quickly.
I’m not a fucking kid anymore. It’s time to stop wanting someone I’ll never be able to have.
So, I get on an app, call someone over, and fuck their brains out as if that’ll magically make Hunter leave mine.
It doesn’t work, just like it never worked before, and all it does is make me angrier at myself.
This is getting out of control. It’s been out of control for a long time.
We hung out a few times, then blew each other, and now it’s over.
It doesn’t need to be something either of us obsesses over…
Only, I know he is. As angry at myself as I am for letting this happen, I know he is too.
That Hunter is torturing himself because of me, because of who I am to him, and I knew that would happen, yet I hooked up with him anyway.
I head to the gallery, determined to get some work done there since it seems to be impossible to do at home.
There are a few people inside. Isla is talking to a man and a woman, but the second she sees me, concern creases her brow. Because of course she would take one look at me and know something is going on.
I give her a quick up-nod, then head to the office I share with her at the back of the gallery.
I can access the photos I’m working on from anywhere, so I pull them up on the office computer.
It’s a spread for a men’s magazine, an up-and-coming actor whose name is on everyone’s tongue right now, and I’m the one who got the shoot.
The photos are fucking fabulous. We’d gone out to Orange County to shoot in a beach house and in the water there.
This is so much easier than dealing with people in real life. I’d rather look at them through the lens of my camera, where everyone is a whole lot simpler.
I’m not surprised when the door opens a few minutes later and Isla comes in. She sits on the edge of the desk. “Those are gorgeous, babe.”
“I know,” I reply, and she chuckles.
“Of course you do. Behind the camera is one place you never doubt yourself, even if you do everywhere else.”
“Fuck off. I don’t doubt myself in bed…or on the floor, against a wall…” But then, that’s not really true, is it? I doubted myself with Hunter.
She rolls her eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Liar.”
Maybe it’s wrong of me. Maybe I should keep this to myself.
Hunter’s business should be kept private, but I need to let this out.
Maybe if I tell her, she’ll talk some sense into me, and I’ll stop obsessing about Hunter fucking King.
I trust Isla more than anyone in this world, and I know she won’t ever tell anyone.
“I hooked up with Hunter.”
The room is silent for a moment.
“As in…”
“Yes. My brother’s boyfriend. Former boyfriend? They never broke up. Ellis died.”
“I hate it when you do that.”
“Blow my brother’s boyfriend?”
“No. Act like you don’t care, whether it’s about Hunter or Ellis. When you’re hurting, you play everything off with a joke.”
“In my defense, I do that whether I’m hurting or not.”
Isla sighs, getting frustrated with me. Can’t say I blame her. “We’ve been hanging out. And it just happened. It was just sex. A means to get off.”
“Can it be ‘just sex’ when you’ve been in love with him most of your life?” She quirks a brow.
“I wouldn’t say I’m in love with him. More like infatuated. I probably only want him because he’s Ellis’s.”
“That’s not true and you know it. You’re always doing that, always finding a way to put yourself down and make yourself the bad guy. You wouldn’t only want Hunter because he used to date your brother. God, your fucking father did a number on you.”
My spine stiffens. “This has nothing to do with him.”
“Everything has everything to do with him, but I don’t want to talk about your dad right now. If I could commit murder with no chance of going to prison, I would kill your dad.”
I squeeze her hand. “What are best friends for?”
“Aww, you called me your best friend. Usually, you pretend not to have feelings.”
“Except apparently with the man you think I’m in love with.”
“The man I know you’re in love with. What happened?”
“Well, first we were sitting on the couch and he started touching my hand, and then I straddled him and—”
Isla laughs. “Not the fucking hookup, you asshole. Afterward.”
I absolutely knew what she was asking, but it’s a whole lot easier to talk about the sex than the aftermath. “He got up, said, ‘I can’t do this with you, Lucas, not you,’ got dressed, and left.” I rest my elbows on the desk, rubbing a hand over my face.
“You know that wasn’t personal, right?”
“It felt pretty fucking personal. He stressed the not you.”
“Because he was in a relationship with your brother, and because he’s close with your asshole father, and because it’s probably a very weird and scary situation for him. That wasn’t about you.”
It’s really hard to see that when it’s someone I’ve been infatuated with basically forever.
“Anyway, that was Sunday. I haven’t talked to him since.”
“It’s only been a couple of days. I’m sure he’s feeling a lot of conflicting emotions too.”
I huff at the too. “That’s the thing. I’m not. I mean, I am. I realize I’m a complete dickhead for wanting him, but I would do it again, Isla. What the fuck does that say about me?”
“That you’re human. That you’ve watched him be with your brother and it tore you up inside, and then your brother died, and Hunter is still here. And he can’t stay single forever.”
“Still not the same as fucking your boyfriend’s brother.”
“Babe.” She grabs my hand. “He’s not Ellis’s boyfriend. Ellis has been dead for three years.”
“That doesn’t mean what I did wasn’t wrong.”
“What you both did. You weren’t there alone. Hunter is an adult, and he was there too. Both of you made the decision to do what you did, and you’re allowed.”
Then why did he walk out? And why hasn’t he answered my text?
“I can’t pretend to understand what you’re going through, but I know none of this is easy for you, and it’s not a black-and-white situation.
If you’re struggling with what happened, he must be too.
Give him some time, and then you can try to talk to him, and if he won’t, then that’s on him.
It’s his problem, not yours. He can’t blame you for something you both did. ”
But he can stop talking to me, and I’m not ready for that. “It’s very easy to blame me for everything. Just ask my father.”
“Fuck your father,” she counters, then gives me a mischievous smile. “Was it good?”
My toes curl in my damn shoes. “So fucking good.” I bend over and bang my forehead against the desk.
“I’m so fucked.” What is it about Hunter King that I can’t shake?
Why has he been plaguing my thoughts in one way or another since the first time he climbed into my mom’s SUV? Why can’t I make that shit go away?
“You’ll be okay,” Isla promises, rubbing my back.
I will be okay. I’m always okay. But when will I ever have the chance to be good? Or great? Sometimes, okay isn’t enough.