I take a sip from my bottle, forgetting that it’s empty. Hunter catches my eye, and I quickly put the bottle down, starting topush back from the table so I can get another one. Hunter shakes his head, taking a long swig from his cup filled with sweet tea, and passes it over to me.
My hand shakes, but I reach for it anyway. I repeat the words my therapist taught me:I’m okay, nothing is going to hurt me.The words don’t work as well as they should, and the condensation from the glass makes my grip slick when I grab the cup off the table. Hunter gives me an encouraging smile, and I swallow against the nausea building inside of me.
Hunter isn’t going to hurt me, he doesn’t want to hurt me. That’s why he drank it first, to show me it was okay. I lift the glass to my mouth, feeling the cool rim of the cup press against my bottom lip.
I open my mouth, letting the sweet liquid enter my mouth. My throat closes, rejecting the drink, so it just sits on my tongue. I inhale shakily. Hunter nods, and my body relaxes enough to let some of the tea pass down my throat.
I did it. I feel triumphant, facing one of my strongest fears. And the only reason I was able to was because of the man sitting across from me. My smile is grateful, and he reaches for the glass. He takes a drink and passes it back to me. The second time is easier. We keep exchanging it until the glass is empty and our food has disappeared from our plates.
“I’m exhausted,” Kian states, pushing back from the table and massaging his flat belly. He and Trent share a heated look, and I have to turn my head, feeling like I’m intruding on their moment.
“I’m making crêpes for breakfast tomorrow, so you both better be up in time for that or there won’t be any left. Adam is a gremlin when it comes to those,” Hunter says, scooting his chair and standing up while Kian follows him.
Kian walks toward Trent, grabbing his hand and pulling him to stand up. Trent pushes a loose curl back from Kian’s forehead.Then he looks at me, a friendly smile on his mouth, and my lips quirk upward. Who would have thought we would be here, sharing these memories with our boyfriends? Not me, but I don’t regret one minute of it. How can I when get to see Hunter in his element, taking care and enjoying his time with friends? The smile on his face is joyful.
When it’s just me and Hunter in the kitchen, he stands on the other side of the island. His head is cocked to the side while he stares at me. A hot flush breaks out across my skin and my face heats. Hunter’s laugh is happy as he walks over to me, and he maneuvers his way onto my lap, hips moving against mine while he gets comfortable. He lets out a pleased sound when he finally gets situated, his back pressed against the table and his legs on either side of mine.
I lean forward and press a kiss against his top lip, tracing my lips gently against the raised skin of his scar.
I fight back the overwhelming emotions trying to drown me. Love, appreciation, adoration. All for this man sitting in my lap. I’m not sure if he can grasp how much he means to me. Sometimes I struggle with giving him the flowery words he deserves, but if I died tomorrow, I hope he knows that more than anything, he’s the only reason I have ever lived. To love and be loved by him has been my life’s greatest accomplishment.
“I love you,” I tell him softly, tracing his face with my fingers. “So fucking much.” My voice cracks on the last syllable, and Hunter grabs my face in his hands. Cupping my cheeks, he leans in and presses a kiss to my forehead.
“I love you, too, Adam.” I wish he could say it’s always been me. I wish that I wouldn’t have fucked up all those years ago because we could have been together this whole time. But life doesn’t work that way, and I wasn’t deserving of him then.
“I want you to know—” I clear my throat, my heart aching inside my chest. “I want you to know how much I love you. Iwould do anything for you. I would steal the sun for you if that’s what you wanted.”
“Are you about to croak? Is that why you’re acting like this?” His forehead creases in concern. I force out a laugh I don’t feel.
“No, I’m not dying. I just need you to know that I love you.”
“And I love you, and you’re stuck with me whether you like it or not.”
I nuzzle my face into the skin between his neck and collarbone, breathing in his honey and coconut smell.
“You’re my home, Collins. Wherever you go, or whatever you do, I’ll be beside you through it all.”
53
HUNTER
Every previously empty space in my mom’s kitchen is covered with baking dishes with a layer of tinfoil over the top. Somehow, she roped me into baking for a fundraiser the school is doing. So while I’ve been in the hot kitchen working my ass off mixing brownie batter and cookie dough until my arms cramp, Adam has been outside with my dad working on a new bookshelf for the store. From my spot in front of the sink where I’ve been working, I’ve been catching the occasional glimpses of his skin with a fine sheen of sweat over it. The muscles in his forearm flex while he uses the power saw to cut a piece of mahogany to his desired length.
“If you drool in the cookie dough, you’ll have to start over,” my mom pipes up. I jump a little, startled by her sudden appearance out of the corner of my eye. My cheeks flame red, and I avert my attention back to the mixing bowl in front of me, folding in the brown butter with the dry mixture. “And after you wasted all that time browning the butter, it would be a hassle to do it again.”
“For one, it’s not a waste,” I tell her, defending my use of brown butter in cookie dough. There’s an internet sensation chefwho did it, bragging about how much better cookies tasted with the additional step. I’ve started watching his videos, taking in the experiences he has with the foods he creates. It’s definitely because of his take on different meals across the world and not how conveniently attractive he is, with his shoulder-length locs and dark skin. Adam likes watching him, too, so it’s not just me. And so what if when he wears expensive clothes, he pushes the sleeves up higher on his forearms so we can watch his muscles flex.
“Does Adam know you have a crush on Chef AJ?” my mom teases, and Adam chooses that moment to walk in.
“Are you watching his videos without me again? We agreed only together, I can’t have you getting any ideas about a rich chef who will whisk you away and feed you exotic foods to your heart’s desire.” He comes up behind me and kisses the back of my neck, then props his head on my shoulder and watches me as I mix the dough until it has the desired consistency.
“Of course not, love, I would never.” It comes out sarcastic, but it’s true. And if Adam had an issue with me watching Chef AJ, I would stop out of respect for our relationship. But he hasn’t complained once. If anything, when he comes to the bookstore after he gets off, he always asks me if Chef AJ has posted a new video for us to watch.
I hear the back door shut in the distance as my mom goes to check on my dad. Adam steps closer to me, pressing his front against my back. The hard outline of his cock presses against my ass, and I push back just a little bit onto him.
“Do you remember that night here at your parents’ house all those years ago?” My mouth is dry, and feeling his arousal against me is sending my brain haywire. I shake my head no.
“I’ll walk you back through it,” he whispers, nibbling on the soft skin of my neck. “We were on the fold-out couch. I unbuttoned your pants and slipped my hand inside, just likethis.” The battle inside my head ismore, I want more,andwe cannot do this in my parents’ house.But when he pushes his hand into my pants, just like he promised, my mind loses all semblance of reason.
