Page 60 of Hunter

The protective instinct that flared to life on that sidewalk roars back so hard it nearly chokes me. I want the whole room to know it was me. I want them to know I was the one who put my hand on his back and talked him down. I want them to know I was there.

Guess Robby was right. I always have to play the fucking hero.

Charlie finishes and looks down at his hands again, knee still bouncing. For a split second, his eyes flick to me—hopeful, questioning, a little hurt that I haven’t said anything.

I look away.

Tim nods gently, offering the usual validating words. The circle moves on. I stay silent the entire time, teeth clenched so tight they hurt.

When the session finally ends, people start gathering their things, murmuring goodbyes. Charlie stands slowly, slinging his bag over his shoulder. He hesitates for half a second, clearly waiting to see if I’ll approach him.

I don’t.

I stay seated, elbows on my knees, staring at the floor like it’s the most interesting thing in the room. My chest feels like it’s caving in.

He lingers a moment longer, then turns and heads for the door without a word. The slump in his shoulders hits me harder than any punch ever could.

I wait until the room is almost empty before I stand. Tim gives me a quiet, knowing look but doesn’t say anything. Good man.

I make it outside just in time to see Charlie disappearing down the alley, golden curls catching the last of the evening light.

I should let him go.

I should turn around and walk the other way.

Instead, my feet start moving before my brain catches up.

“Charlie.”

He stops. Turns slowly. The look on his face—hopeful and guarded all at once—nearly guts me.

I stop a few feet away, hands shoved deep in my pockets so I don’t reach for him.

“We need to talk,” I say.

His shoulders tense. The small smile he gives me doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “I figured.”

The alley feels too narrow. The city noise too loud. And all I can think about is how badly I want to pull him against me and kiss him until neither of us can breathe.

But I can’t.

Not if I want to do the right thing for once in my miserable life.

We end up in the alley behind the building, the same narrow stretch of concrete where he found me drunk and puking. The evening light is fading fast, turning everything into shades of gray and bruised orange. Charlie stands a few feet away, hands in the front pocket of his jeans, looking up at me with eyes that always see too much.

“I’ve been thinking,” I start. “About us. Whatever the hell this is.”

Charlie tilts his head slightly, waiting.

“I think we should keep things to group only,” I say. The words taste like ash. “Outside of here… it’s better if we don’t do this.”

He’s quiet for a long second. Then he nods, slow and accepting, like I just told him the weather forecast.

“Okay,” he says softly. “If that’s what you need.”

That’s it. No argument. No fight. No “but I thought—” or “why are you doing this?” Just… okay.