“You have pepper spray and that whistle. I can order you a Taser online right now.”
“No, no. I’m fine.”
“You’re not, but that’s okay. Do you think you could eat a little?”
We’d had pasta for dinner, but I couldn’t stomach any of it.
I shook my head.
“Maybe tomorrow. I kind of wish I could just get wasted right now so I wouldn’t have to think about it.”
“Then don’t think about it.”
“Easy for you to say.” I’d been increasingly snappy with him, but he didn’t seem to care.
“I could help you forget.” There was that cocky smile.
“I’m not feeling very sexy right now.”
He got off his bed and put his hand on the chair to stop it spinning. “You’re always sexy. And swell.”
“I don’t feel swell either. How am I going to do this?”
“You will. Easy as that.” He gave me a quick kiss.
“I wish you could be there with me.”
“If you’d let me take you to the town courthouse, we could have been married by now.”
When Hunter had heard that only direct family could be in the courtroom, he’d immediately asked if I wanted to hop down to the courthouse and get a marriage license. I’d thought he’d lost his mind, or he was joking.
“You were not serious about that.”
“Maybe I was.”
“We’re not getting married. My mother would have a coronary.”
“Hope probably would, too. You know she’s already planning our wedding, right?”
“What?!”
“It’s this thing she does. She likes to plan. Almost as much as Christmas and pie.”
“How about a Christmas wedding with pie as the wedding cake?”
“That would blow her mind.”
“Hunter.”
“Yes, baby?”
“I can’t do it.”
“Yes, you can. Just count to five.”
“Like you do when you’re nervous?”
“Just like that. It’s a technique my therapist taught me.”
“How come you got all the good ones?” I said.
He shrugged. “Who needs therapy when you’ve got me?” That made me smile, and he pulled me into his arms, humming and rocking us back and forth. “You ready for bed?”
“Dude, it’s only ten,” I said.
“I know, but you need your sleep.”
“I’m not tired.”
“Take off your shirt.”
“Uh, no. I don’t think that’s going to help.”
“I don’t want to make whoopee with you. I’m just going to give you a massage.”
Well, that sounded lovely. He certainly had talented hands. Thinking about them rubbing all over my bare back gave me goose bumps.
I flopped onto my stomach and pulled my shirt over my head. He grabbed my favorite cinnamon lotion (because it smelled like him) and gave me a mind-blowing massage. My body turned into putty in his hands, and I made some sounds that I normally only made when we were doing other kinds of intimate things.
“Why are you good at everything?” I mumbled.
“Not everything. I’m terrible at crossword puzzles. And I have never been able to keep a goldfish alive to save my life. And… um… Oh! I had a speech problem until I was seven. I couldn’t say the letter L.”
“I don’t think we can be together anymore. You’re a loser.”
“I’d rather be your loser than some other girl’s winner.”
“You know I was being sarcastic.”
“Yes, I do.” He gave my shoulder a kiss.
“Now, now.”
“I know. But your skin is just so irresistible. My lips are drawn to it. Do you want to go over your letter again?” He knew what the answer to that was.
“No. Just keep massaging.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He kept going until my muscles let go of their tension and my eyes closed. I drifted off and only awoke when Hunter climbed in beside me and pulled me into his bare chest.
Twenty-Eight
I woke abruptly the next morning at five. Hunter was sacked out beside me and grumbled in his sleep when I moved. I had a moment of not being able to breathe, like something was pressing against me.
I’d expected a panic attack. I’d had more than I could count in my lifetime. I knew I had some anti-anxiety meds somewhere, but they weren’t going to do any good at this point, since they took a while to build up in your system. Anything else I could have taken would have made me looped out. So I just stayed where I was, focusing on Hunter’s arms and the fact that no, I was not, in fact, dying.
I stared at Hunter. His eyes jumped behind his eyelids. For a guy, he had really thick eyelashes. He looked so sweet when he slept, as long as he wasn’t having a nightmare. Every now and then, if he was sleeping really deeply, he’d snore a little.
My love for him settled over me like a blanket fresh from the dryer on a chilly winter night. The tight feeling went away as I stepped into our bubble. It was harder this time, but I somehow got there. Hunter frowned in his sleep and muttered something.
I kissed his nose and lay back down, turning my head so I could look at him. He was pretty damn swell.
I started freaking out again when Hunter tried to make me eat some dry toast and ginger ale.
“I’m not going to force you, but you’re going to regret it if you don’t.” I’d never seen him so stern, so I munched a few bites of toast and drank some of the ginger ale. Darah, Mase and Renee all hugged me and wished me well as they went off to their classes and such for the day. Paul had a cold, so he’d stayed at his place for the night, but he texted me and so did Megan.
If I wouldn’t have been so stressed, my heart would have warmed at all the people who were supporting me.
I’d lost the battle to drive, so Hunter was also skipping classes to drive me. I hadn’t fought hard on that one. The parole board might make their decision right after the hearing, so I probably wouldn’t be in any shape to drive back to campus in any case.
The hearing was scheduled for ten, but I was ready to go at eight-thirty. Hunter got out his guitar and let me make requests, switching from one song to the other, even in the middle. It was a weird mash-up, kind of like flipping radio stations. It amused me for some of the time, but when my legs started twitching so much I couldn’t sit down, Hunter grabbed our coats and pushed me outside for a walk across campus. He’d also suggested doing some more blow paintings, but I couldn’t sit still long enough to even get the stuff set up. I’d probably just end up using all black and making a huge mess anyway.
The leaves were starting to blush from green to orange and red and yellow. I loved campus in the fall. Even the air tasted better in the fall. We walked slowly, and he kept kicking pinecones in my way so I could crunch them under my feet.
Hunter was uncharacteristically silent during our walk, which was both helpful and not helpful. On the one hand, he wasn’t chattering at me like some people would have, trying to fill my head with crap so I wouldn’t think about other crap, but on the other, I could only focus on the bad crap without his voice distracting me.
We passed other students on their way to and from class and dorms and work and sports practices. Their lives seemed so simple. Not for the first time, I wished I could jump into someone else’s life. Or maybe at least I could have multiple personalities, so at least I could pretend I was having another life.
“What are you thinking about?” I asked Hunter.
“You.”
“What about me?”
“Specifically? That look on your face when you wake up in the morning and see that I’m next to you. It’s my second favorite after that look when I make you come.”
“Hunter!” I smacked him and glanced around to make sure no one had overheard.
“Baby, no one is paying attention to anyone but themselves. I could throw you down right here right now and most people would just walk right by. You wanna give it a shot? I can prove it to you.” He gave me that smirk that I hadn’t seen in several hours. It made me feel warm inside.
“I don’t want to get arrested for public fornication, thank you very much. I’ve had too much time in a courtroom to last me a lifetime.”
“I’m sorry. I was trying to avoid making you think about that.”
“Hunter, everything makes me think about that.”
“You wouldn’t be thinking about it if we were hay rolling, I bet.”
“Probably not. I don’t really think about much of anything when we’re doing that.”
“That is my goal.”
“You’re very good at it.”
“Why thank you, Missy.”
We walked some more until we had to turn back.
“Do you have everything?” Hunter said as I packed my purse. I had my statement, along with at least five copies stashed in various pockets so I’d have a back-up. Hunter also had several copies stashed in his pockets. He’d picked out the pencil skirt and cappuccino-colored sweater and boots I was wearing. He dressed nice as well — a show of solidarity.
“Here,” he said, handing me his iPod when we got into his car. “Go to Missy’s playlist.” I plugged the player into his speakers and hit play.
Honey, Come Home filled the car, but it wasn’t The Head and the Heart singing. It was Hunter. The sound quality wasn’t great, but I didn’t care. I sat still and silent as I heard his voice cradle the song. When it ended, he paused the playlist.