Page 59 of Hunter

Hunter

I’m a bastard. I know I am.

Charlie has texted me three times since Sunday. Sweet, light little messages that I’ve read and re-read like a fucking addict. I haven’t answered any of them. Every time my thumb hovered over the keyboard, Robby’s voice crawled back in, bitter and ugly, reminding me exactly what happens when I let myself get close to someone soft and bright.

It’s Tuesday, almost 6 p.m.. Time for the New Light therapy meeting.

And I’m going to see him. In person.

I stand outside the old brick building, hands shoved deep in my jacket pockets, staring at the narrow alley that leads to the community room. My chest feels like it’s full of broken glass.

It’s better to tell him we can’t do this in person, right?

Sending a text to end whatever the hell this is feels like the coward’s way out. Like I owe him more than that after kissing him on his doorstep like a starving man. After letting him draw me. After watching him light up at the fucking snow leopards like the world hadn’t already tried to break him.

I drag a hand down my face and force myself down the alley. The metal door to the third floor groans when I push it open. Warm lighting, mismatched chairs, the smell of burnt coffee and cheap donuts. Tim gives me that same gentle, cult-leader smile when I walk in.

“Hunter. Good to see you.”

I just nod and drop into my usual seat, if you can call it that after three meetings. My stomach twists.

I’m doing the right thing. This is the right thing. Pulling away now, before I drag him any deeper into my shit, is the least selfish thing I’ve done in years. Charlie deserves someone who isn’t carrying around burn scars and ghosts and guilt of not being able to save the last person they loved.

I’m not that person. I might not be in love with Robby anymore, and honestly, maybe I hadn’t been for at least a year before he died…but I can’t be the person Charlie deserves.

The door opens again. My head snaps up before I can stop myself.

Charlie walks in.

He looks like a fucking angel. Golden curls a mess, normal eyeliner making his blue eyes even bluer, and that cropped hoodie he seems to love showing a sliver of skin as he shrugs his bag off. He looks…fucking amazing.

His eyes find mine almost immediately, and that small, almost crooked smile starts to form. My ribs feel too tight and breathing is no longer an option.

Then he sees my face.

The smile falters, before fading.

I look away fast, jaw clenched so hard it aches. I can feel him hesitate for half a second before he drops into his usual chair across the circle.

Conversations pick up around us as more people arrive. Some get coffee and a donut before taking a seat, like this is some sort of fucked-up social hour. But I stay silent, arms crossed tight over my chest, staring at the ugly tile floor like it might swallow me whole.

Tim starts talking, something about checking in and safe space and all the usual gentle bullshit, but I barely hear any of it. All I can focus on is Charlie, the way his knee is bouncing and his fingers keep picking at the nail polish on his nails. And how he keeps glancing at me like he’s waiting for me to look back.

I don’t. Because if I look at him, I’m going to want to cross this shitty little circle and kiss him again.

Fuck.

How the hell am I going to tell him that I can’t do this? That we can’t do this. When I feel like I’ll burn the whole world down if it means I get to keep standing in his light.

“Does anyone want to share how their week has been since last Friday?” Tim asks, gentle as ever.

I blink, dragging myself back into focus. A few people talk. One guy tells a cute little story about his daughter, Maggie, that makes everyone laugh. Another admits he lost a patient on the table during surgery—voice cracking as he says it. The woman next to Charlie talks about making her new apartment feel more like home.

Then Charlie clears his throat.

Every muscle in my body goes rigid.

He keeps his voice low but steady as he tells the room about the religious freaks on the street corner. The way they targeted him. The panic attack that hit him like a truck. He doesn’t mention me. Just says “someone passing by helped me through it.”