Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
HUNTER
The drive to Red Creek feels longer than it should.
Maybe because every mile closer means I have to see Ashley again. I don’t hate her for what she did to me. I hate her for how she treated Wyatt after.
An affair I could live with, but leaving him? I don’t know how she lives with herself.
I pull up outside her townhouse just after eight, engine ticking as it cools. The lights are on inside. Same place she moved into after she left.
I kill the engine and sit there a second, gripping the steering wheel. This is for Wyatt. Just get the presents and leave.
I step out, boots crunching on pavement, and knock. The door opens a few seconds later. Ashley stands there in leggings and an oversized sweater, hair pulled back, looking… smaller somehow. Less polished than the woman who walked out on us.
Grass ain’t always greener. She learned that lesson. And now, looking back at it, I know my own faults. I didn’t put her first. We never truly loved each other. I thought I could maybe be the loving husband one day for her. The doting dad. And run the ranch.
I couldn’t do it all. And she couldn’t choose between the life I was offering or the drink.
It didn’t work. It was toxic. And that’s why I’ve never had a serious relationship since.
“Hey,” she says quietly.
“Hey.”
An awkward pause stretches between us.
“Come in,” she says, stepping aside. “They’re by the couch.”
I step inside, the familiar scent of her place hitting me. Vanilla candles. Clean laundry. My bet is it’s all a lie on the surface.
Wyatt’s presents are stacked near the sofa; the wrapping paper has dinosaurs and superheroes on it.
My chest tightens despite myself. “He’ll like those,” I say.
Her eyes soften. “Is he still obsessed with horses?”
“Yeah. Ain’t grown outta that yet. Any luck, he won’t ever.”
She smiles weakly. “Good.”
I pick up the bags.
“Coffee?” she blurts. “I just made some.”
I hesitate. Say no. Leave.
But Wyatt’s presents are here, and this is still his mom. And hell, she looks sad. I’m not a monster. I felt something for her once. Maybe she is turning a corner.
“Yeah. Alright. One.”
She moves quickly into the kitchen.
I sit stiffly on the couch, scanning the room. Framed photos line the shelves. Her parents. Friends. Her new boyfriend. No pictures of Wyatt.
That stings more than it should.
She comes back, handing me a mug. Our fingers brush, and she pulls back like she’s been burned. I can’t help but notice that tremble in her hand. The same she would have every morning before reaching for a bottle of gin.
“Thanks,” I mutter.
We sit in silence for a moment. I have nothing to say to her. And this coffee tastes like shit. So I set it down on the side.
Then she starts crying. Tiny little sobs like I won’t notice.
Goddammit.
“Ash—”
“I messed up,” she says, wiping at her cheeks. “I know that. You don’t have to say it.”
I stare at my boots. “You didn’t just mess up,” I say finally. “You left your kid.”
Her face crumples. “I was scared, Hunter. Everything felt… stuck. Like my whole life was already decided. That you didn’t really want me. You just wanted our son.”
I huff quietly. “Welcome to adulthood.”
She shakes her head. “No. You loved it. The ranch. The routine. I felt like I was drowning.”
Silence settles again.
“I miss you both.” She whispers.
That lands heavier than I want it to.
“Wyatt would love to have a mom,” I say, and it makes my chest hurt.
I’m not oblivious to the fact that my little boy needs a woman in his life. Just like I needed my mom as a kid.
But he needs a mom. Not Ashley. He needs reliability. He needs love and laughter. Not living on eggshells to see when she’s going to smash another bottle against a wall.
Fresh tears spill down her cheeks. “Does he hate me?”
I shake my head. “He’s nearly six. He just wants his mom around.”
She nods, swallowing hard. “Are you still drinking, Ashley?” I ask quietly.
The crux of her demons. The booze. The reason the courts gave me full custody.
“A little,” she says.
I try not to roll my eyes. I even paid for two stints in rehab. I’ve done what I can, but she keeps going back. And I have to keep Wyatt safe. And if that means keeping her at a distance, then so be it. Whatever is best for my boy. Until she can prove she’s changed, she’s staying here.
“I’ll do better,” she croaks. “I promise.”
I’ve heard promises before. But still.
I nod once. “Good.”
The moment stretches awkwardly.
I stand, grabbing the gift bags in one hand, my mug in the other, taking it out to the kitchen and putting it on the side. “I should go. He’s asleep, but he’ll be up early tomorrow. Call in the morning if you want.”
I give her that olive branch. See if she bites.
She walks me to the door, arms wrapped around herself. “Thank you for coming,” she says quietly.
I nod. “It’s his birthday.”
She hesitates. “Drive safe.”
I step outside, cool air hitting my face, relief loosening the tight knot in my chest. I load the presents into the truck bed, climb in, and pull away. I don’t look back. I never do. Because that chapter of my life is done with. And my little boy comes first over everything.