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I pull out my phone and quickly order pizza before setting it down on the small bar top. Walking into the kitchen, a fresh wave of anger surges up inside of me when I see that only a few dishes have been left behind. The more I take in, the more I realize that’s a theme that extends throughout the apartment. My assumption is that either Dillon was just extremely pissed off or maybe even hurt by the turn of events so he took everything out of spite, or, Hunter just didn’t put up any type of argument and gave it all away.
Maybe a combination of both.
Regardless, my heart hurts for Hunter. And for Dillon, I suppose, though I am firmly team best friend. Breakups are always a shit show, mine being the exception because well, breaking up with Drew wasn’t as much a shit show as it was a fucking explosion of massive proportions. Leaving him and going through everything that I went through in the process was akin to getting my teeth pulled or perhaps an exorcism.
Sighing heavily in the empty space, I set about cleaning the best I can with limited resources. Either Dillon also took the cleaning supplies which let’s just face it, is a dick move, or Hunter just never bothered to replenish them when things ran out. It could go either way at this point, honestly, considering the fridge is also barren.
What am I going to do with this man? Fuck. He can’t go on living like this, especially not in this place that I’m sure is completely full of memories from his time with Dillon. It’s got to be bad enough sleeping in the bed the once shared with him.
“Fuck,” I gasp. Dropping the pile of laundry I’ve collected throughout the living room, kitchen, and hallway, I run into the master bedroom and come to a grinding halt.
Oh. Hell. No.
“Are you fucking kidding me? This motherfucking prickhole seriously took the bed?” I shout, speaking to no one in particular but hoping to all that is holy that Dillon somehow hears me from his adoptive mother’s house. “What a dickweed!”
Storming out of the bedroom, I throw the bathroom door open and stomp inside. The door ricochets off the wall causing Hunter to drop something in the shower and groan out in pain.
“Sorry,” I halfheartedly mumble before grabbing the shower curtain and ripping it open.
“Jesus Christ, Isabella!” Hunter shouts, covering himself with a purple loofah. I tilt my head to the side as I take him in. My eyes drop to the bright, fluffy sponge but they widen marginally when I notice the poof covers roughly 7 percent of the real estate Hunter is working with. “If you wanted to see me naked, you should have just asked! You didn’t need to barge in here like the goddamned police!”
“He took your fucking bed, Hunter!” I growl before releasing the curtain and beginning to pace in the tiny room. “Have you seriously been sleeping on the couch this entire time? It’s not even a good couch! And you have like what, two bowls and a cup? There isn’t even any food in the fridge. Let me guess, he took all the toilet paper too? For fucks sake, Hunt, you can’t live like this! What a jerk! I can’t believe he did this to you, after years,years! Hijo de puta! Je devrais le tuer! Je vais lui couper les couilles!”
Throwing my hands up in the air, I’m vaguely aware that the bathroom has gone completely silent. Spinning, I come face to face with a shocked-looking Hunter. It confuses me enough that I end my tirade. “What?” I snap.
“Did you just speak like three languages?” he mumbles, his brows practically touching his hair.
“What?” I repeat, thoroughly confused. “I think you’re suffering from lack of nutrition. Have you been eating at all? Oh shit, are you high? Because I don’t blame you, really, I don’t. In fact, it might be good for you. We can go to the dispensary when you’re dressed. Oh, fuck, wait I’m on lockdown.” I resume my pacing as I contemplate our options. Maybe someone knows a drug dealer who does delivery. The thought of acquiring some weed stops me in my tracks. Holy shit.
When is the last time I got high? It's been over a month. I haven't smoked since I was still living at home. Mostly because the guys didn't bring it when they rescued me,obviously, and I haven't been back to get my crap. But mostly, I haven't smoked because I haven't needed to. I used to smoke nightly to keep my nightmares at bay but I haven't had a nightmare since I've been with the guys. Not since the beginning anyway. When did they stop? When the guys started sleeping in the same bed as me.
Interesting.
“Uh, no, Elle. But seriously. I’ve heard you speak Spanish sometimes when you’re really super pissed, but what the hell was that? French?”
“I mean, I know French but,” I stop, thinking back to what I said. Did I? I honestly don’t even remember what I said in the last five minutes. I shrug, not knowing and frankly, not giving a fuck. “That doesn’t matter right now.” I wave a hand in dismissal and turn around to grab a towel out of the cabinet before handing it to Hunter. “Seriously, Hunt. Answer my question. How are you living like this?”
He wraps the towel around his waist and steps out of the shower. Padding over the cabinet he removes a second towel and uses it to release some of the excess water from his long hair. It’s longer than I’ve ever seen it. He definitely needs a trim. The thought reminds me of the fact that Nyx’s beard is still insane and how I’ve been repressing the craving to offer to trim it for him.
No. Just nope. We are not going down that mental spiral again. Focus, bitch!
“What do you want me to say? He left and he’s not coming back and I’m not staying here. He wanted to take the shit he felt was his with him and I didn’t feel like fighting about petty shit like dishes. I’ll get new stuff when I find a place. As for why my house looks like shit, I don’t know what you want me to tell you, Elle. My life’s been fucked up recently and I’m working my ass off at both jobs to make enough money to be able to find a new place that I can afford in this overpriced city. It’s not fucking easy. It’s expensive and I no longer have a partner to split the costs with.”
Hunter tosses his hair towel into the dirty clothes basket in the corner of the bathroom and braces his hands on the counter. Dropping his head he breathes deeply and my heart cracks for him. I feel fucking horrible. I am seriously failing at this friend thing. How did I miss all of this? Better yet, how can I fix this for him?
I could offer for him to stay at the guy’s house but we’re already cramped for space and something tells me that offer wouldn’t go over well. If only there was somewhere—
“My house,” I breathe as a smile spreads across my face. Yes. This will work. My stomach fills with butterflies at my genius, perfect freaking idea. Why didn’t I think of this before?
“Hell no!” Hunter’s head flies up and his eyes narrow on me. “I’ve already told you. I am not moving in or even staying with you attheirhouse,” he sneers. I roll my eyes because this is the exact reaction that told me offering up the guy’s house was a bad idea.
“Good thing I wasn’t talking about their house, Hunter Morris. Maybe you should let people finish their train of thought before you try to burn them down with your evil stare. You’re looking at me like I’m Satan and I just asked you for a blowjob!”
Crossing my arms and tapping my toes, I wait him out until his glare dissolves. Finally, he relents and smooths his features before standing tall and mirroring my position. He gestures for me to get on with it but I’m too excited in this position of power to give up my brilliant idea yet. When he’s thoroughly irritated and impatience wafts off him like his previous bad smell, I grin widely.
“My house, Hunt. My townhouse. It’s empty. Well, empty of people, full of my stuff but I can go pack it or move it or whatever. It’s three bedrooms and it’s paid off so you’d be living for free. Just utilities and groceries so it’s cheaper than literally anything else you could find in the city. It’s perfect!” Beaming, I clap my hands in a very un-like me fashion, but I can’t help it. I’m fucking stoked.
Hunter’s face squints in a way that kills my good mood and threatens to unleash more physical violence aimed in his direction. Pretty sure I could get him in a chokehold until he agrees with my idea.
