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Beau was silent for a moment, as if debating his next words. “Hunter, consider the timing and optics of this situation. It’s not your fault Madison and Joy ended up in the hospital again, or her car got towed. It’s not your problem that her funds are low and her living situation is sketchy. Yet you strapped on your boots and cape, and moved them in with you. You did it right at a time when you should be clearing your decks and focusing on your goals. Some might say you’re setting yourself up to fail.”
Was he? Denial leapt to his throat, and he gave it a voice. “Some might not know shit.” He got out of the car and immediately staggered under the weight of all the gravity. Luckily, Beau got a shoulder under his arm and caught him.
“Maybe not,” Beau admitted.
Hunter tightened his arm around his partner’s shoulders and tried to reconnect his feet to the rest of his central nervous system. “Fuck it, if Ashley has her way, I’m not starting school in the fall anyhow.”
Beau steered him toward the house. “She’ll write the letter.”
“Not if she finds out what I’m doing,” he muttered.
As if on cue, the front door opened and Madison stepped under the porch light, eyes huge in her concerned face.
“Oh my God. Hunter, are you okay?”
She started down the steps, barefoot, in one of his old T-shirts she wore so well and plaid flannel sleep pants. It couldn’t be more than thirty-five degrees outside. Belatedly, he realized Joy’s sperm-donor of a daddy, with his various vices, had probably stumbled home drunk off his ass more than once, and now, in her mind, he was pulling the same crap. He shook Beau off and offered her what he hoped was a sober-looking smile, while his stomach pitched. “Go on inside, baby, I’m fine.”
Then he braced his hands on his knees and puked on his front lawn.
Chapter Twelve
“Hunter!” She hurried over to him, but he extended an arm and warned her away.
“Step back, honey.”
Madison looked around to confront the speaker and came face-to-face with Beau. He stood on Hunter’s other side, gripping the back of his sweater. “You don’t have a prayer of keeping a guy this size on his feet, and if he goes down, I don’t want you to be the one who breaks his fall.”
Hunter groaned and wiped a forearm over his forehead. “I’m not going down.” But he lurched a bit as he straightened. Thankfully, Beau kept a secure hold on him.
“You ready to go in?” he asked after a minute and slowly let go of Hunter. Testing to see if he’d stay on his feet.
“Gimme a minute.” Sweat gleamed on his skin. He drew in a deep breath, and then another. Finally, he reached over his head and tugged his light blue V-neck sweater off. His white undershirt rode up a few inches in the process, and Madison couldn’t help appreciating the glimpse of taut back muscles and rippling obliques. But then he wiped his face with his sweater and groaned again, and she gave herself a mental kick for treating him like eye candy while he suffered.
“What happened?”
“He’s all right. Just had a little too much fun,” Beau replied and strapped an arm around Hunter’s waist.
Hunter turned his blurry eyes to her. “Sorry. Joy okay?”
She wrapped her arm around his waist from the other side and helped guide him up the porch steps. “She’s fine. Just went down after her midnight snack.”
“Good.” His eyes wandered over her face, and then one corner of his mouth tipped up in a sloppy smile. “Damn, you’re pretty in the moonlight.”
“Thanks,” Beau deadpanned.
“Not you. Her. Looking at your ugly mug makes me want to hurl again.”
Beau smirked as they led Hunter into the living room. “He says that now, but you watch. In about five minutes he’s going to pledge his undying love to me.”
“Don’t hold your breath.”
They dropped Hunter onto the sofa, and then Beau patted the backpack slung over his shoulder. “Really? I’m about to save you from the worst hang
over of your life.”
Hunter’s head fell back against the sofa cushion and his eyelids drooped. “You gonna shoot me?”
Madison finger-combed his sweat-dampened hair away from his forehead and temples. “Why don’t we try a bottle of water and a couple of ibuprofen first?”
