Chapter 14 Hunter
HUNTER
“I’m sorry,” Zoey says as soon as she closes the door and we’re alone.
“Babe,” I say, patting the couch cushion next to me. “Come sit.”
Her shoulders slump forward, and she walks across the living room like she’s about to be grounded. She’s so damn cute like this, although there isn’t anything cute about the situation. “What?” she asks as soon as she plops down next to me with so much force, my cushion bounces.
I take her hand in mine, wanting and needing her to know a few things. “One, don’t apologize again.”
“But you’re not going to be able to sleep in your bed.”
I shake my head. “My bed is shit. It’s not a hardship.”
The corner of her mouth twitches. “I can be alone. I can protect myself.”
“Again, my bed is shit, and I don’t want to go.”
Her eyebrows rise as her eyes widen. “You really want to stay?”
“I do.”
“Okay,” she whispers.
“Second, I don’t do anything I don’t want to do. I offered to stay because I don’t want you to be alone tonight. You’ll sleep like shit if you’re alone.”
“You’re not wrong,” she mutters as her eyes dip to where our hands are interlocked.
“Third, I have a sister, and if this were happening to her, I’d want someone to be there to make her feel safe.”
“You’re a good guy.”
It’s nice she thinks so. Most of the time, I think I am too, but there have been moments in my life where I’ve doubted it.
I have one more thing I need to say. I don’t want to, but I can’t deny how I’m feeling anymore. I told myself I’d find something wrong or there would be a sign to keep my mouth shut, but it hasn’t happened.
Life is short. I’ve known that for a long time, and every moment I don’t say it is a chance wasted.
“And fourth, I want you to be safe because I like you, Zoey.”
Her eyebrows rise again as her mouth opens and closes repeatedly like she’s glitching. “You…”
“I. Like. You,” I repeat, pausing in between each word so her brain can fully process what I said. “I don’t want anything to happen to you, and I couldn’t go to my place and sleep tonight knowing you were here and panicking. I’m going to stay with you as long as you need until we know you’re safe.”
“I like you too,” she breathes as she gives my hand a squeeze.
A sense of relief washes over me, but my mind instantly slides to the question—now what?
“Now what?” she asks as if she can read my thoughts.
“I don’t know,” I tell her, being completely honest. “We take things slow.”
“I’m good with that. I wasn’t looking to fall for anyone.”
“You fell for me?” I ask her, staring into her beautiful eyes, wondering how I got so lucky to move next door to her.
Zoey averts her gaze as her cheeks turn pink. “A little bit.”
“I fell for you too,” I tell her, wanting her to know she’s not alone and there’s no reason to be embarrassed. “You make it damn hard not to because you’re so…”
“Cute?” she asks playfully.
“Beautiful,” I correct. “Kids are cute. You’re stunning. But more than that, I like your personality.”
“Stop.” She motions for me to keep going.
I laugh and pull her toward me, tucking her into my side. The mood has shifted. Something I’m thankful for since the evening started as a complete shitshow.
She’s more relaxed now. A momentary break in the stress of the flowers and reminders of something that happened to her in the past.
“You ready for bed, or do you want to watch TV?”
“TV,” she says, and the words are quickly followed by a yawn. “I’m not ready to go to sleep.”
“Put on whatever you want.” I shift, getting more comfortable and settling in for the night.
She flips on the television, nestling against me with all her weight. As soon as her head lands on my shoulder, I close my eyes, and before we make it through the starting credits of whatever movie she put on, I drift off to sleep.
“Well, you look like shit,” Tate says as soon as I walk through the front doors of Inked.
“You’re really great with the compliments,” I tell her, shrugging off my coat.
She gives me a sugary smile. “Someone was up late. Did it have anything to do with what happened with my cousin last night?”
“Yep.” There’s no point in lying to her. If she knows something happened to Zoey, she also knows I was there when it happened. “I stayed with her so she wouldn’t be alone.”
Tate studies me as she taps her pen against the desk. “Is that why you stayed?”
I nod. “She was terrified.”
“Mark is an asshole.”
“That’s what I hear.” I stop in front of her, drumming my fingertips against the wood. “Do you think I could have Oliver’s number? I want to make sure I’m in the loop.”
“Of course,” she says, giving me the biggest, most genuine smile. “You need to stay in the loop for sure.” She taps her phone screen a few times, and my phone buzzes in my back pocket. “Sent.”
“Thanks.”
“You like her,” Tate says.
“I do.”
“Tell her yet?”
“I did.”
“Good boy. Kiss yet?”
“None of your business.”
Tate pouts when I don’t give her the answer she wants. “You’re no fun. I’ll have to go straight to the source.”
“No, we didn’t kiss. We’re taking it slow.”
She groans. “The pace you two are going, you’re going to be using a walker by the time you sleep together.”
I give her my middle finger before I stalk off, reaching for my phone. I need to touch base with Oliver. I need to know what Mark looks like and as many details as I can get so I know who I’m looking out for and what he’s capable of.
Me: Hey. It’s Hunter. Can you send me some info on the guy?
It takes less than a minute for him to reply.
Oliver: Here’s everything I have on him. If you see him, let me know right away.
The message is followed by a link. When I click it, a folder opens, filled with files that include photos, along with document after document of information on the guy.
I drop down into my chair and start going through the contents.
My gut twists at the pictures and the descriptions of all the things the guy did to Zoey and Lulu.
I don’t know if I could’ve let Mark keep breathing after what he put the girls through.
All I know is that Oliver’s a better man than me.
Me: What’s the plan?
Oliver: With?
Me: Mark.
Oliver: To put him back in prison.
I raise my eyebrows as I stare at the screen. The man is evolved. Way more than I am, and maybe ever could be.
I spend the next twenty minutes reading over everything Oliver sent. Just when I think it can’t get worse, I open the next file and find out it, in fact, can.
I also realize he isn’t going to stop. A man like him doesn’t send flowers with that message unless he plans to escalate things. We are only at the beginning stages, and hopefully we’ll get enough on him to send him back to prison before things spin out of control.
“What’s wrong?” Timber asks as he walks by.
I glance up from my phone, my mind reeling. “Just doing some reading.”
“I heard about Zoey and that Mark’s out of prison,” he says.
“Does everyone know everything?” I ask him, but I already know the answer.
“In this family and this shop, the answer is yes. There are no secrets.”
I don’t want to argue about the difference between secrecy and privacy.
I feel like I’ve been dropped right into a gossip mill, but everything that’s been said is the truth.
My sister and I share everything too, but we are as far as the details are passed.
The Gallo family and their ethos is bigger than I could’ve comprehended before stepping into their world, but it is finally starting to become clear.
“Are they always this open and honest?”
“Yep, and sometimes it’s too much,” he replies with his face buried in his phone as he sits down at his station across from me. “But you get used to it.”
“Do you, though?” I ask, not believing it for a minute.
“You don’t really have a choice.”
I sit on his answer, letting that hard truth settle deep in my gut. I didn’t dislike it.
“But they’re also not a judgmental bunch either, which makes the sharing all your life details easier to stomach. My family, on the other hand, is vicious. They more resemble a pack of rabid dogs than a sweet and loving group of people.”
“Sucks,” I tell him, but right now, I’d take rabid dogs over dead parents any day of the week. At least they would be alive and breathing.
“Yeah.” He glances up, staring at me. “You into Zoey, or are you sick of Tate bothering you about her?”
“I’m into her,” I tell him honestly, finding it’s the only way to go around all of them.
“Cool,” he mutters. “She’s a good one.”
“I think so,” I tell him, making myself busy.
“Keep her safe. Mark’s a sicko.”
“That’s the plan,” I say, hoping the problem ends before it really has a chance to begin.
“He’s a wackadoodle.”
I chuckle softly. Chicago, man. The words they use are so different from anything I heard in my hometown. Besides in movies, no one in my real life has ever called another human being a wackadoodle before now. “Men like him are cowards.”
“She has to be scared.”
“She’s good at pretending she’s not, but I made sure she was okay before I came here. Lulu stopped over as I was leaving.”
“You stayed with her last night?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
“You staying with her tonight?”
“Yes,” I say without a moment’s hesitation. “I’ll stay as long as I need to for her to feel safe.” Even if that means forever.