Page 87 of Hunter

I nod, throat tight. “Yeah. I… I have a series I’d like to submit.”

She gestures to a table near the back. “You can lay them out there if you’d like. I’ll take a look when you’re ready.”

I carefully unpack everything. One by one, I set Hunter’s face down on the white surface. From the beginning to the end. The soft morning one with Sofia on his chest. The shadowed, intense one from the alley. The vulnerable charcoal sketch I did the morning after our first kiss. The darker, more turbulent pieces that show the storm I felt when he pinned me down.

When the last one is out, I step back.

The woman comes over and studies them in silence. She takes her time, tilting her head, moving between pieces. I feel exposed. Like she’s seeing every raw, messy feeling I poured into them.

After a long minute, she looks at me.

“These are very personal,” she says gently.

I nod. “They are.”

She smiles. “They’re powerful. There’s real emotion here. Longing, love, pain…it’s all there. We’d love to include a few in the emerging artist showcase in three months. Would you be open to that?”

I blink, surprised. “Really?”

“Really.” She hands me a form. “Fill this out. We’ll need titles, dimensions, and a short artist statement if you’re comfortable. You can be as vague as you want—some artists just write ‘Untitled, oil on canvas’ and that’s enough.”

I take the form with shaking hands.

As I fill it out, I glance back at the paintings. At Hunter’s face staring back at me from so many angles.

I write a short statement at the bottom:

“These pieces are about wanting someone who makes you feel seen, even when it terrifies you. About love and fear and the space between them.”

I sign my name at the bottom and hand everything over.

The woman smiles again. “We’ll be in touch. Thank you for trusting us with these.”

I walk out of the gallery feeling lighter than I have in weeks. Not healed or over him. But like I’ve taken something painful and turned it into something that might live outside of me now.

On the walk home, I pull out my phone and open the chat with Hunter for the first time in days. I don’t type anything. I just stare at his last message, then slip the phone back into my pocket.

Some things you have to let go of, even if they still feel like home.

I keep walking, the late afternoon sun warm on my face, one small step closer to becoming the version of myself I want to be.

Chapter 35

Hunter

Is there a set time limit that helps you get over someone you had a whirlwind romantic few weeks with? Because if there is, I haven’t reached it yet.

I still think about Charlie every day. The way he laughed at the snow leopards. The way his voice sounded when he begged me not to stop. The way he looked at me right before he told me we needed to heal separately. It all still hurts.

Dr. Middleton calls it limerence. After looking up what that word means, I don’t fully see it. Sure, at first it probably was a textbook case—obsession, fixation, attachment. Check. Check. Check. The intrusive thoughts, the strong need for him to return my feelings. But that’s where it ends. I didn’t idolize Charlie. I saw him. The real him. Scars, trauma, crooked smile and all.

Now, if I took that and laid it over my relationship with Robby… it is one hundred percent true. And I’ve come to see that in my many sessions with Dr. Middleton. He’s helped me face years of my bad relationship and come to terms with how unhealthy it was in just a few short months.

Today’s session starts like usual. I sit in the same chair, hands clasped between my knees. Dr. Middleton watches me the way he always does—calm, direct, no bullshit.

“How have you been sleeping?” he asks.

“Better,” I admit. “AA helps. My sponsor’s been good. Calls me every night to check in. Makes it harder to justify picking up a bottle.”