Never Been Kissed(91)

I’m disgusted with her, with him for listening. I’m disgusted with myself for coming down here and subjecting myself to this. Sadistic much? Hot shame replaces what little moment of euphoria I had – I’m ruining his life by being with him. He could have all the money in the world, send Matty to the best schools, buy him the best clothes, move out and get a nice, swankier place.

I want to make Hunt feel good, too, but I’m not sure I know how.

Maybe I can take this pressure off of him, though, maybe I should tell him it’s okay to go and be with Aly, to marry her, and get all the money he needs to take care of Matty. I’m not important here, the kid is. And maybe Hunt will let me visit some days, or allow me to take him a few hours on the weekends to read to him, to see how he’s doing.

Squaring my shoulders, I walk towards the pair, lost in my misery to hear his answer to her begging. It doesn’t matter, anyway. I’ve made up my mind.

“Hunt, let’s go upstairs.” My voice is sure and strong when everything inside of me is shrivelling up and dying. I found my slice of happiness, and it’s been exhausted, used up, and that’s okay. I got a chance at something I thought I would never have, and I have Hunter MacLaine to thank for that.

When his blue eyes hit mine, I almost crumple, the light in them, the intensity is almost my undoing. Some raw pain slices through his features. I get a glimpse of true pain, pain I can’t even imagine how to deal with. I’m not strong enough for that, I know I’m not, but maybe Aly can take care of him.

He lumbers over to me, completely ignoring Red, gait unsure and coming in jolts instead of smooth. His sugar, probably, or Aly unearthed so much emotional garbage he can’t control his body right.

I want to scream as he gets closer to me, holding his hands out, almost begging me to bring him in closer. He’s a hurt wolf, past the crazed point of pain, wanting a soothing touch one last time.

Hunter sighs when his hands meet at the small of my back, and his big body bows over my smaller frame, effectively blocking out any threats, and using his body as a shield. He’s so beautiful, so fraking beautiful I want to cry. I feel his chin resting at the top of my head, and his breathing evens out as he holds me.

I beckon him with small movements, with a calm voice to come closer to the elevator, and once I hit the button he wait for it to come down. He shakes in my arms, not the kind of shakes of low blood sugar, but the kind of tremors a body has when it holds onto the pain and guilt right before they can rip a body apart.

I somehow don’t cry, even though my eyes sting and burn. I can’t speak for the life of me, my throat hurts, and that painful lump just sits there, refusing to go away.

I usher us into the elevator, giving him my back so I won’t have to look at him. His hands stay locked on me, so when I turn, they’re sitting at my lower belly, his cheek resting now against my ear, closer than he was before. As the doors close, we ignore Aly’s screaming, her outraged howls echoing in the space between the outer and inner doors as she calls me every variation of the word fat ever created.

Whatever.

We’re quiet the whole ride up.

I unlock his door and settle him on the couch. He makes a noise when I unwind his arms from around me and maneuver him to sit, but he just lets me do what I want. I check on Matty, relieved to find he’s okay, then I move into the kitchen and grab Hunt a cold bottle of water from the fridge.

I hold it out to him, but instead he grabs me and settles me on his lap. I would normally protest this and say that I’m too heavy to be on him like this, but I let myself have the feeling of his touch. To remember it. To memorize it.

Only when Hunter leans in to kiss me do I find my voice.

“Wipe her off of you,” I say, voice cracking. Hunter’s neck locks and he stops moving, his eyes roving over my face in the semi-darkness. My stomach twists and turns, and I’m starting to shake like you do before vomiting, and my heart is just a throbbing mass of pain.

Hunter does what I say, using a bit of water in his hand from the bottle to swipe at his lips. He then uses his shirt to wipe the liquid off.

“You said you wouldn’t give up on me, Sera.” His arms wind tighter around my hips, and I know it’s going to be a struggle to try to get out of his grip. Especially when I still want to be here, so so badly.

The tears come. I just let them fall; I want him to see my pain. A sledgehammer to my chest would hurt less than this.

“I’m not giving up on you, Hunt. I’m giving up on us,” I whisper, like my body’s physically unable to push the words out.

Hunter shakes his head in the dim lighting, staring down at his feet while I stand over him. It would hurt less if his voice was gruff, or even pinched with hurt. He sounds the same, strong and perfect, like I’m not hurting him at all with the truth. He’s invincible in the face of it while I crumble to pieces.