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“They went to get some food,” she said softly. “They’ll be back in a bit.”
He went to the sink and splashed cold water on his face. All of a sudden, the distance between them, packed with unspoken secrets and betrayals, felt like miles.
When he turned, she was sitting at the table.
He wanted to be sharp, like he’d been the last time she’d visited him. But now life had shifted, leaving him stronger, yes, but also more vulnerable.
“What are you doing here?” he said slowly.
“Michael called and said he’d found you.”
So that had been the phone call in the car. Not Hannah.
He leaned against the counter and studied the tiles under her feet. “Were you missing me?”
“Hunter, I’ve been missing you since the day your father died.”
He jerked his head up. “You couldn’t prove it by me.”
She blanched. It should have been satisfying. It wasn’t.
But then she recovered. “Will you sit and talk to me?”
He sat. He crossed his arms on the table and didn’t look at her. He felt weak now, for breaking down upon seeing her.
She put a hand on his arm. “That’s the first time I’ve seen you cry since your father died.”
He left her hand there. She had bracelets just like his, only hers were strung on ribbons and braided leather instead of twine. He might have made one of hers when he was little—he couldn’t remember.
He didn’t move away from her touch. But he made his voice hard. “I think you did enough crying for both of us.”
“Is that what you thought? That I missed him too much to care about you?”
“Didn’t you?”
“No! Never.” Now both her hands were on his arm, and her voice was so soft. “Is that what this is about? Are you angry with me for missing him?”
“No. Yes. I don’t—yes.” He pushed her hands away.
“Is that why you hit that girl? Because you were angry at me?”
“Goddamn it, I didn’t hit Calla!”
She flinched from his anger. He didn’t even regret it. His breathing was fast, almost to the point that he couldn’t catch it.
Then his night caught up with him again, and he put his face in his hands. “Forget it.” His voice was thick now. “Just go away.”
It took everything he had to keep tears from falling again.
She touched his wrist, her fingers light against his skin. “I do miss him, Hunter. I do. But I’m your mother—”
“No!” He flung her hand off. “No. A mother wouldn’t have just sat there.”
Her eyes were wide. She didn’t have to ask what he meant.
She cleared her throat, but the words still sounded strangled. “I am your mother. But this has all been difficult for me—”
“You’re right,” he said, sharpening his voice with sarcasm. “I’m the one being selfish. I probably should have left earlier.”
