Chapter Fourteen
Hunter
Her laugh was still caught in my shirt when I finally eased back, brushing one last kiss to her lips before we headed toward the truck. She slipped her hand into mine without question, her fingers small but certain, her warmth anchoring me with every step.
The whole walk to the truck, I kept sneaking glances at her. Memorizing the curve of her smile, soft and secret, like she was still replaying the kiss in her head. Hell, maybe I was, too.
When we reached the truck, I opened the passenger door with a mock formality, bowing slightly. “Your chariot awaits.”
She arched a brow, clearly amused. “Pretty sure a chariot doesn’t come with oversize tires and a lift.”
“Only the best for you,” I said, smirking, enjoying her laugh as she climbed in.
By the time we hit the road, she was already fiddling with the radio, scrolling through my presets until she found one of my playlists. The beat that filled the cab was hard and fast, bass thrumming through the seats. She gasped, clutching her chest in fake horror. “Is this… EDM?”
I side-eyed her, one hand steady on the wheel. “What’s wrong with that?”
“Five minutes ago, you were humming along to Florida Georgia Line. Now it’s…whatever this is. Explain yourself,” she teased, grinning.
“It’s called music, Cami.” I deadpanned.
She laughed, the sound bubbling out in a way she couldn’t stop. “Music? This is a war crime. One second, it’s cowboy hats and heartbreak, the next, it’s bass drops and club lights. Who are you?”
“The best of both worlds,” I deadpanned.
She snorted, leaning back in her seat. “You’re like if Spotify had an identity crisis.”
“Jealous?” I muttered, tapping the wheel in time with the beat.
“Of what? Your chaotic playlists? Please.” She crossed her arms, a smirk tugging at her lips. “This just confirms what I already suspected. There are so many layers to you, Hunter Bennett. What are you going to tell me next? You’re secretly a cowboy who dreams of break dancing.”
I barked out a laugh, shaking my head. “Don’t tempt me, Camille Brooks. I’ve got some moves.” Emphasizing her name in response to her using mine.
“Oh, I bet you do,” she teased, eyes sparkling. “Do I get to see them?”
“Not a chance,” I said quickly, though I couldn’t help the grin spreading across my face. “The world isn’t ready for all of that.”
She leaned her head back against the window, still smiling. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Ridiculously charming,” I corrected.
“More like ridiculously confident.”
“Same thing,” I shot back, and her laugh filled the cab again, warm and bright in a way that made me want to keep her talking just to hear it.
I shook my head, biting back a smile. Her laugh tumbled out, unguarded, the kind that made the heaviness I carried feel lighter for a moment.
And as the miles slipped by, the banter slowed, making way for a more intimate moment.
She stretched her legs, bare knees brushing the dashboard, her head leaning lightly against the window.
“You know,” she said quietly, her fingers tracing invisible patterns on the purse in her lap, voice almost lost under the hum of tires on asphalt, “I feel… different with you.” It was as if the quietness of the cab allowed her thoughts to surface, ones she’d been hesitant to voice.
There was a warmth that flooded through me at her admission, a mixture of relief and vulnerability.
Her fingers stilled for a moment, a subtle pause that seemed to carry words left unspoken.
“Like I can breathe. Like, I don’t have to be everything all at once. ”
For a moment, words wouldn’t come. She had seen right through to the part of me I kept hidden, the part that had learned to survive on silence and solitude.
I thought about telling her how much I needed this, needed her, even when fear had its hand around my throat.
The ache wasn’t just about comfort; it was the kind that made it clear I wasn’t here to drift—I was here to stay.
So I just reached over, laying my hand over hers on the center console. Not pushing. Not holding her tight. Just letting her know I was there. She turned her palm up, threading her fingers through mine like it was the easiest choice in the world.
The rest of the drive, she alternated between roasting my playlist choices and humming along when I caught her knowing the words. Every time she laughed, the cab of the truck felt a little more like home.
By the time I pulled up to her place, I knew one thing for sure: I was already in too deep. She shifted in the seat, suddenly quiet, her fingers playing with the strap of her purse. I tried to find the right words, something clear enough to make her believe I wasn’t leaving, but they wouldn’t come.
So instead, I killed the engine and turned toward her.
“Thanks for tonight,” she said, voice low but controlled as she smiled softly, eyes searching mine, telling me she wanted to ask what I wasn’t saying. But she didn’t push. She just leaned in and brushed her lips across my cheek, quick and light, a promise she wasn’t ready to put into words.
I cleared my throat, forcing myself to let go of her hand. “Goodnight, Beautiful.” Pressing a kiss to her lips, I felt her smile. As I pulled away, her smile widened, “Goodnight, Hunter.”
Then I watched her walk up the path to her apartment, every part of me wanted to call her back, kiss her one more time, hold onto this night a little longer.