Heart splintering down the middle, I wave bye to Matty, and launch out the door, keys already in hand to get into my place. I ignore the phone calls and let them go to voicemail. Ditto on the texts.
God, I’m so sick of being yelled at, of being told I do everything wrong. All I wanted to do was do something nice for a kid I love. Was that so wrong? No, no it fraking wasn’t.
I bum around my apartment, watching TV without seeing it, and not even Dean Winchester’s ‘son of a bitch!’ can get me laughing.
I don’t want to call Katie, since it feels like failure. My heart hurts, and I don’t know what happened. Maybe I should go over there and ask what’s up his ass, but I won’t out of principle. I’m not going to let him get away with getting pissed at me for no fraking reason.
And if he does, well then, I’m moving in with Katie and that’s that. I didn’t leave behind my family to live next door to my first love who’s also going to treat me like I’m garbage. Fuck that.
Pounding on the door two hours later; I ignore it, too. Ditto the simultaneous phone calls to the pounding on the door, and even the texts that soon come after. I need to stew in it, and think clearly.
I leave a half hour early for work the next morning so I don’t even see a glimpse of that asshole who I love, Hunter MacLaine and his son, Matty MacLaine. Jesus, that name is badass, and it’s not fair. Too bad he’s an asshole!
A sexy asshole. A sweet asshole when he wants to be.
I turn off my cell phone and refuse to even stare at it (for more than ten seconds) and refuse to allow myself to ponder what the voicemails could hold, and what the texts say for no more than ten seconds at a time.
Picking up the phone as per usual and taking a swig of leftover coffee from the morning, I end up choking it back up and spitting it out into my cup.
“Don’t hang up on me, I’ve been spent all morning trying to find your extension.” Hunter says.
My spine goes ramrod, and I stifle a gasp.“I don’t want to talk to you, hence the not answering your calls or texts.”
“Don’t talk to me like I’m stupid, Sera. I had a reason for being pissed last night.”
Aware that I’m at work and personal phone calls are frowned upon, I try and keep my voice down and calm. “I don’t fraking care that you had a reason. You didn’t have to shout at me, and I won’t let you do it again,” I force the last words out as my throat has closed up. I’m going to need a bathroom break to recover some of my dignity.
“No one’s ever taken care of us,” he whispers into the phone, and I can just see him on the other side of the line, head down, staring at his feet, shoulders hunched forward.
There. There it is. Tears bathe my eyes in warmth and I’m sure they’ve fallen to my cheeks by now. My chest aches, and I’d rather take a stab wound to the ribcage compared to this pain.
My breath whistles into the mic of the phone, cradling it as I am between my shoulder and neck, trying to get my paperwork in order. My hands and fingers won’t move, as I’m paralyzed at his words.
“No one’s ever gotten us anything as a gift, baby. You’re the first. And I was so fucking mad that you did it, like it was charity-”
I’m about to burst in some logic but I don’t make it in time. I want to hear what he has to say.
“Like you felt sorry for us. I thought you noticed the clothes I have to buy Matty since my salary isn’t what I’ve come from. I try my best, you have to believe me. I do the best I can by him, and sometimes it’s not enough.”
I let my tears fall. My strong, brave Hunter sounds absolutely wrecked, desolate. I wish he was here right now, with me, so I can try and take some of it away.
“His jeans and shoes and shirts aren’t custom made. I can’t afford to spend money on brands and shit because we have to eat, and my car constantly has fucking problems with it, and I-” his voice cracks. “I started taking it out on you, like you were shoving it in my face, that I wasn’t good enough.”
I swallow the lump in my throat, still not ready to speak. Hunter keeps going.
“I’m a fucking asshole, Sera. I tried to stay away from you, to keep you away from the hell my life is, what it’s become. You need a man who can take care of you, who can afford to let you stay at home with a house full of kids and you can do whatever you want. A man who can buy you all the nerdy shirts the internet has to offer.” He sighs, that bone-weary tone coming to his voice again. “I’m so tired of my life,” he admits, and I let out a hurt sound that he hears over the phone.
“I’m such a tool. Are you crying because of me? I’m sorry, Sera, Christ, I’m sorry. I won’t call you again.” Hunter disconnects. I rush to the bathroom in the middle of phones ringing and the fax beeping every two seconds to swipe away the tears and make sure my mascara hasn’t gone and died on me. I blow my nose, and take deep breaths.