Page 98 of Hunter

Charlie: Sounds great.

Me: That’s not a time.

Charlie: Sure it is. You know where I live.

I laugh out loud on the empty sidewalk, the sound echoing off the buildings. God, I’ve missed this. And I’m not going to let it go this time.

Me: I’ll be there at noon. Bring coffee?

Charlie: Only if you bring the good kind. See you tomorrow, Hunter.

I stare at the last message for way too long, smiling like an idiot. Tomorrow. I get to see him again tomorrow.

I float back to my apartment. I’m on cloud nine. Things are looking up. My job back at the station has been cleared, Robby’s voice is nearly silent now, and I’m connecting with Charlie again.

When I get back to my apartment, I don’t reach for the bottle. It’s not even a thought. Instead, I make a cup of tea and sit at the table. My space is still sparse, but it’s not unkept and dirty like it was before. Just more proof of my healing.

My phone rings, and I glance over at the screen, seeing my sponsor’s name.

I answer with a small smile. “Hey, Clark.”

“Evening, kid,” Clark’s gravelly voice comes through, warm but no-nonsense as always. “How you holding up tonight?”

I lean back in the chair, cradling the mug. “Better than I expected, actually. Had dinner with Charlie.”

There’s a pause, then a low chuckle. “The artist? You finally called him?”

“Yeah. We kept it light. Talked. Flirted a little. He… he said yes to seeing me again tomorrow.”

Clark lets out a low whistle. “Look at you go. I’m happy for you. Proud too.”

I rub the back of my neck, a little embarrassed by the praise but appreciating it. He is old enough to be my dad, and maybe that’s why his words feel so meaningful. “It feels good. Scary, but good.”

“You’re doing good. Before you know it, you’ll be counting in years instead of days and months. Just keep showing up for yourself. That’s all it takes.”

I nod, even though he can’t see me. “I will. Thanks, Clark. For everything.”

“Anytime, kid. That’s what I’m here for. Now get some rest. You don’t want to show up with bags under your eyes tomorrow.”

I laugh softly. “True.”

“Talk to you soon.”

I hang up and set the phone down, still smiling. Clark’s been a rock these past months—tough when I needed him to be and encouraging when I was struggling. Having someone like that in my corner has made all the difference in my recovery.

I finish my tea, wash my mug, and head to bed. For once, sleep comes easy.

The next morning I’m up early, nerves and excitement buzzing under my skin. I stop at the little café on the corner near his apartment and grab two coffees—black for me, the sweet vanilla latte I know Charlie likes. The barista even draws a little heart on the side of his cup when I mention it’s for someone special. I smile the whole way to his building.

When I reach his door, I take a deep breath and knock.

Charlie opens it almost immediately.

He’s standing there in an oversized sweater and those ripped jeans that always make my brain short-circuit. His curls are messy, eyeliner fresh, and the small, shy smile on his face makes my chest feel too full.

“Hey,” he says softly.

“Hey.” I hold out his latte. “Brought the good kind.”