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I opened the door reluctantly and a glowering Hunter rolled inside with hard jerks on his wheels.
When I shut the door, he spoke. “What the actual hell?”
His eyes pierced mine and I folded my arms, shifting my stare, teeth gritted. “Yeah, I know. I needed fresh air.”
“Sure,” came the sarcastic response.
“I’m . . . I didn’t expect it.”
Hunter sighed and his glare softened. “Okay.”
“I’m sorry you had to chase after me.”
“It’s certainly been a thrilling evening.”
A strangled laugh. Coming from me, apparently.
Hunter slung onto the couch, shifted his chair, and beckoned me over. Deja vu. “Tell me what’s got you upset.”
“I mean,” I said, forcing up a wry smile, “It’s an upsetting story.”
“Yeah, but there’s more to your reaction.”
“How do you know?”
“Sit down?”
I sank onto the cushion next to him, eyes riveted away from his . . .
“There,” I said. “Sitting.”
Hunter stretched an arm on the back of the couch behind me. “Anything we can work out?”
I hiccupped. Dammit.
Hunter’s fingers brushed my back, perhaps the same part of the spinal cord that he’d had bashed.
My throat jutted with a swallow.
“What’s going on, Marc?”
Marc. Again, said so softly.
My voice came out strained, which was better than letting the sob free. “No one ever talks about it, so I didn’t . . . I mean, you make up scenarios in your head, don’t you?” I glanced at Hunter. “Tonight, before . . . I would’ve bet it happened in a car accident.”
Hunter chuckled abruptly. “Will you ever hop in the van with me again?”
“Probably not.” We shared a fleeting smile—the barest of reprieves—and then I looked away. “A car accident would have been tragic. But there are other ways it could have happened, and, of course, once or twice, you think of something worse. Something intentionally violent and horrifying. But you shove that thought away, because it’s the worst one. The one that is never allowed to have happened.”
Hunter nods. “And that was what happened.”
My voice broke with anger. “Someone like Jack did this to you. Someone like the guy I hung out with and never said no to. Someone I stupidly crushed on. That’s the character I deemed my friend, that I jerked off to.”
Hunter settled a warm hand on my nape and gently massaged.
“Someone who could do terrible things to a beautiful person. I’m so fucking upset, Hunter, I can’t even grapple with it.”
His fingers dragged up to the base of my hair and he was murmuring “it’ll be all right.”
I jerked out of his reach. “It is not all right. You will never be . . .”
“Who knows. Maybe science has a breakthrough and I’ll be running marathons in ten years.”
I stared at him, awed. Alarmed. “How are you so calm? How are you always so unbelievably content with everything?”
Hunter tugged my arm, urging me to lean into him. I wanted to, badly, but frustration had me shaking him off.
He sighed. “I’m not always okay.”
“Ha!”
“You bullshit your way through life a lot, too, Marc.”
I stiffened. “Too?”
“Maybe I recognize it for a reason.”
I scrubbed my face and blew out a hard breath. “Fuuuuuck.”
“No longer in the mood,” Hunter said. “Grab your laptop.”
I spared him a quizzical look, and Hunter pulled out his laptop. “Let’s play a round of Demon-Slayage.”
We played next to one another, and it was awkward, and . . . distracting. I was no good as a knight all summer, and I wasn’t any better now. And yet . . .
Fawkes stayed at DaMage’s side as we set out on a mission to find an enchanted shield that protected the wearer from most demons.
Hunter and I didn’t speak. But we didn’t give up the hunt until we found the shield.
I couldn’t believe that after my shit-ass reaction to his intensely personal story, he stayed by my side.
Chapter Six
Half a week passed, and I spent all of it wondering what Hunter was doing.
He’d stayed until two a.m. on Friday night and I had barely heard from him since. He was out of state until Thursday at a basketball tourney. Not that life revolved around Hunter.
But . . . we had a gazebo to save, and there was an alumni event tonight that might offer insight. Perhaps old photos could provide a clue, or someone who knew the lovers, or better yet, V and K themselves.
By Thursday dinner, I’d thoroughly cleaned my basement, thrown out all old sweatpants, gone for the first run in months, showered and shaved, and checked my phone for messages three times. He should be back in town by now.
“Uh oh, I hope dinner isn’t disturbing all those thoughts.”
I snapped my gaze from my plate of mashed potatoes and chicken to Uncle Ben. “Huh?”
“Oh good, you’re still amongst the land of the mentally conscious.”
“I was daydreaming.”
“Would this have anything to do with Mr. Hunter?”
“No! Why would you say that?”
