My Favorite Mistake(47)

“No, I can do it.” I reached out for his hand, and he pulled me to my feet.

“You don’t always have to do everything yourself,” he said, taking my arm with one hand and carrying his guitar with the other.

I stumbled like I was drunk back to Hunter’s car. I didn’t want him touching me, but then I knew I wouldn’t have gotten back to the car by myself.

Hunter didn’t ask for details as he drove as fast as he could down the windy road back down the mountain.

“Slow down,” I said.

“I’m getting you home.”

“Well, I’d like to get there in one piece.”

“Fine.”

“Did Tawny tell you?”

“No. She said you would. All she told me was that I should get you home and stay there.”

“Nothing else?”

“No. I wished she would have.”

“So I’m guessing you’re waiting on an explanation.” My shock was thawing a little having him there.

“I’ve wanted one ever since I met you. You’ve got secret written all over you. But I’m one to talk about that. I just wish you’d trust me with it. I know it can’t be easy for you to carry.”

“It’s not.” I was not going to cry.

“I’d like to help you. Telling you about my parents made it better, not worse. Outside of family, you’re the only one I’ve ever really told, and it was scary as hell, but it felt good after. The truth will set you free and all that.”

“I’m afraid of what you’ll say.”

“Missy girl, there isn’t anything you could tell me that would make you think any different.”

Oh, but there was. It had the power to change everything. Especially now.

“I wish I could believe that.”

“Then do. Believe it. Believe me.”

I wanted to. More than anything.

I sat back in my seat and tried to calm my racing heart. I turned on The Head and the Heart again. I found the folky, slightly blue-grassy melodies soothing.

“Can you hand me my phone?” he said when we got back to the entrance of the park. He stopped the car, but left it running. I handed him his phone, and he hit the speed dial.

“Hey, Mase. I need a favor. Can you take Dare for the night? I need some time with Taylor. Yes. Uh huh. Thanks, man. Yes, I know I owe you. Thanks. Bye.”

He hit dial on another number.

“Hey, Ne. Can you do me a favor? Taylor and I, um, need another night. Yes. No. I will. Don’t worry. See you tomorrow. Bye.”

He tossed the phone in his cup holder.

“I thought you wouldn’t want a bunch of people around bugging you.” He knew me far too well. “I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

“Okay.” All the fight had gone out of me. My mind was already picturing Travis getting out of jail and then fulfilling the promise he made to me that night.

I didn’t talk for the next half hour as Hunter drove as fast as he could while still driving safely. I kept hearing him counting under his breath.

One, two, three, four, five.

I listened to him, and it lulled me into a weird sort of waking shock. It was like that feeling when you stare off into space. Only it didn’t end.

By the time we got back to the apartment, Renee and Darah were already gone. They’d left us a little surprise in the form of a heart made of cupcakes.

“Look at me,” Hunter said, as we walked in the door. Rationally, I knew that there was no way Travis was there, but my head still went there.

“No one is going to hurt you. You’re not a weak girl. You kicked me in the balls within hours of meeting me. You’re not afraid of anyone,” he said.

I was just afraid of one person.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. Go take a shower and I’ll make some dinner.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Sorry, but Tawny told me to make you eat.” That was something she’d say. She used to force me when we were younger, too.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Okay.”

He went to the fridge and started assembling ingredients.

“I’m going to take a shower.”

“Okay, then.” He smiled and shook his head.

I slowly pushed the door to my bedroom open with my foot. I waited a second before reaching in and turning on the light. I slowly walked in, my heart pounding the whole time. I glanced in every corner before I completely entered the room.

I grabbed my clothes and shower stuff as quickly as I could and rushed to the bathroom. I took a quick shower, jumping at every single noise. I remembered this feeling well. I’d lived years of my life like this, but it had dulled in the last few. Now it was back full-force, and I was twelve again and throwing up out of fear every day. I’d almost given myself an ulcer. That was when the therapy had started.

I came out and Hunter was busy with tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches.

“I made the margherita ones you like, along with the avocado,” he said.

“I’m not hungry.”

“You’re going to eat a damn sandwich and a bowl of soup even if I have to kiss you into submission. Got it?”

“Please don’t touch me.”

“Then eat.”

“I hate you.”

“Nice try. I’m not going anywhere.” He put a sandwich on a plate, cutting it crossways so I could see the mozzarella cheese oozing out. Normally I would have devoured the thing and burned my mouth, but I didn’t want to eat ever again.

He poured a bowl of soup. He’d even added milk to make it creamy.

“Why don’t we have a tray? We need to get a tray,” he muttered.

I had no idea what he was talking about. I finger-combed my hair and waited for him to be done.

“Go sit on the couch.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” I didn’t want him treating me like an invalid. Worse, I didn’t want him treating me like he had to take care of me. That I was some sort of burden. A person he was obligated to take care of.

I went and sat on the recliner instead of the couch and turned the television on, flipping from one channel to the next, not even noticing what was one before I changed it.

“Here we go.” He set a plate and bowl down on the table, pulling it close to the recliner. He handed me a spoon and a napkin.

“I would suggest you eat, but I’m not telling you what to do. Because you don’t want me to,” he said.

“That’s right.”

He got his dinner and sat down on the opposite end of the couch, as far away from me as he could get and still be sitting in the living room.

I found a marathon of romantic comedies, starting with Pretty Woman. Score.

“She has way too many teeth. And no hooker has ever looked like that, I can guarantee you,” Hunter said, sitting back and munching his sandwich.

I ignored him and tried to watch the movie, but I kept jumping at every little sound. My brain had convinced itself that Travis was going to burst through the door any moment. I kind of wished I had a sharp object, but I’d have to settle for my spoon or the remote. Or Hunter. He’d probably do as a weapon in a pinch.

“Can I get you something?” he said. How about a gun? I’d feel a lot better if I had one. Why oh why hadn’t I gone to the shooting range yet? “Taylor?”

“What?”

“Can I get you anything?” he repeated.

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Why don’t you just leave me alone?” I snapped.

“Maybe if you would tell me what has got you like this, I will. Until then, I’m watching you like a hawk.” I didn’t like his intense watching but I also didn’t want to be alone. So I was fifty-fifty on having him there.

“I’m fine.”

“Sure.” He got up to take my bowl, and I flinched away from him.

“Aw, Miss. I wish you’d tell me.”

I shook my head, clamping my lips shut.

“You stubborn, stubborn girl.” He took our dishes to the sink and started washing them, humming the dishes song he’d written. I tried to keep my eyes glued to the movie.

I had a habit of getting really cold when I was freaking out and I started shivering uncontrollably, my teeth chattering. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to keep myself from flying into a million pieces. I’d thought this was over. I never saw the day that he would get out actually coming, but maybe they wouldn’t let him out. Maybe they’d send him back to prison to serve the rest of his time.

But I’d still have to see him. That was what scared me more than anything. That was the thing that I didn’t want to tell anyone. For all my anger and confidence, I was really just a scared twelve-year-old girl inside.

“Here,” Hunter said, coming behind me and putting a blanket over me.

“Don’t touch me.”

“I’m just tucking a blanket in. Get a grip.”

“I said, don’t touch me.”

He came around front, ignoring me and trying to get the blanket all around me.

“Stop it!” I thrashed, but he wouldn’t let go of me. He tried to pick me up, but I was ready for him, landing punches and kicks right and left. His face was blank. Somehow he got me to my feet, and the blanket fell away.

It was like I’d unleashed something dark and violent that had been stirring inside me since that night eight years ago.

“Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!” I pounded on his chest. I slapped his face and I kicked him. I kept going until my lungs were heaving and my arms were sore and a strangled sob had escaped my mouth.