I love you, Britt.His words, said in his melty deep voice and with so much sincerity that she almost couldn’t breathe, echoed in her mind. Her heart went ice cold. “No, Mom,” she said, turning to leave. “We weren’t serious at all.”
***
After a long, sleepless night, Hunter found himself right back at his parents’. He sat on his bike, looking at the grand house again. All night he’d grappled with what to do. Call Britt and try to talk to her again? No. She’d made it clear she didn’t want to see him. Even now as he stared at the abundant tulips that lined the circular drive—something he hadn’t noticed last night—his chest felt like a brick had been dropped on it. What he’d feared would happen had come true. She could forgive her father and overlook his past.But she can’t forgive me.
He did call someone else, though. Andrew, his sponsor. After he left Maude’s, he called an Uber to pick him up at the end of the block, then had the driver drop him off at one of the bars he used to frequent before his last illegal escapade. He didn’t know the bartender, or anyone else in the place. He wasn’t focused on that either. There was only one thing he wanted, other than Britt.
“Gin and tonic,” Hunter said as he sat on a stool. The place was off the beaten path, and even though it was Saturday night, there were only a few people there. “Hold the tonic.”
The gruff bartender nodded and poured him two shots of gin, then walked away.
Hunter picked up the glass and stared at the transparent liquid. Sniffed it. All he had to do was down it in one gulp.Justtodull the pain...
He set down the drink. Threw some money on the bar and walked outside. His hands shook as he dialed Andrew’s number.
He answered it on the first ring. “Hey, Hunter,” Andrew said. “Haven’t heard from you in a while. How are things going?”
Gravel crunched under his expensive rental shoes as he paced. “Not good. Can you come get me?”
For the next two hours, he and Andrew talked over coffee at a twenty-four-hour pancake house, and by the time Andrew haddropped him off at his apartment, Hunter was set to rights. He still craved a drink, but he’d made too much progress to slide backward now.
Andrew had also reminded him of one of his steps—making amends. Something he hadn’t done yet with his parents.
He yanked off his helmet and hung it over one of the handlebars. No one around here would steal his helmet or his old bike. They probably wouldn’t be caught dead with either one. He got off the bike and headed to the door. His parents were usually home on Sunday afternoons, and he had to apologize for last night.
He shoved his hand through his uncombed hair and rang the doorbell. He probably should have showered and shaved before he left his apartment, but once he’d made the decision to apologize, he didn’t want to put it off. When he didn’t get an answer, he rang it again.
Finally, the door opened. Sue, his parents’ live-in cook, looked at him with surprise then blanked her features to neutral. As always, she was wearing her chef’s uniform—a grayish-blue short-sleeved top with offset black buttons and black pants. Their regular housekeeper must be off today.
She peered at him over silver-rimmed glasses. “Can I help you?”
While her expression was detached, he could sense her disapproval. “Are Mother and Father home?”
“Are they expecting you?”
“No.”
She glanced over her shoulder, then looked at him again. “I have strict orders not to let you in.”
He grimaced. “I was here last night for Father’s party.”
“I didn’t see you.”
“I didn’t go into the kitchen,” he said. “And I was only here for a short while.”
After she studied him for a moment, undoubtedly trying to gauge whether he was lying to her or not, her rigid demeanor eased a little and she opened the door all the way. “I’ll tell them you’re here.”
“Thanks.” Hunter followed her inside but stopped in the foyer as she continued farther into the house. He didn’t see a single indication that there had been a huge party the night before. Everything was spotless and pristine, like his parents’ houses always were. He could remember living in a very modest house when he was little, but it was just as immaculate. Kirk and Payne had always been neat and organized, while Hunter had been grounded numerous times for being messy. He continued to be, up until his arrest. Being in jail had knocked the sloppiness right out of him.
His phone was in his pocket, and he resisted pulling it out. Last night he kept checking his messages, praying that Britt had changed her mind and wanted to talk to him again. She hadn’t, and he didn’t want to be thinking about her right now. It hurt too much. But he couldn’t stop either. He couldn’t turn off his feelings like a light switch. Painful confirmation that he really loved her.
But once he was over her—ifhe got over her—he was never falling in love again. He was better off being alone than going through this misery.
The rhythmic click of his mother’s dainty heels on the marble floor thankfully brought him out of his thoughts. As she neared, his stomach dropped at her ominous visage. She stopped a few feet from him. He didn’t have to suspect her disapproval. It was all over her face.
“You have a lot of nerve coming here after disappearing last night,” she said, her harsh gaze meeting his. “You never even told your father happy birthday.”
“I know. And I’m here to apologize—”
