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Or perhaps he’d leave it behind.
Maybe he’d run so hard that he’d collapse. At least then, in a fully blacked-out state, he wouldn’t have the image of Janie’s warm smile settled on another man taunting his heart.
He rubbed his chest, at the spot that would burn and wheeze as he pushed his stride. John Brighton had indicated that God’s plans were good, even when they seemed bad. Was it irreverent to think that maybe finding reprieve in blacking out was good?
“Hunt, you look like you need some boxing gloves and a bag.” Mama B didn’t smile at her observation. “The one is still hanging upstairs. You know where to find it.”
Hazel’s glance slid toward Hunter, and he found retreat in her green-rimmed eyes. For the first time since they’d stalked out of Janie’s, Hunter realized that the color of her eyes had changed since they’d arrived in town. They’d been full amber all morning.
“I don’t have my inhaler with me.” Hunter made himself keep bitterness out of his tone. It wasn’t Mama Bulldog’s fault that her daughter had sent him on a short trip to a dark mood. “Think we’d best head up the ridge, in case this snow decides to become unfriendly.”
That wasn’t likely. But then again, this was high country in Montana. One never knew.
Mama B held a suspicious study on him. “I’m guessing you met our new park ranger.”
“Grady.” Hunter shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged. Casual as you please. “Yep. We met.”
One salt-and-pepper eyebrow arched. “Nice guy?”
“Sure. But I’m sure you’ve already met him. Probably invited him over for one of your pepper pot roasts. Janie will bring some pie, and you’ll have a lovely evening.” Good job, there. Definitely kept the sarcasm on lockdown. Mama B would never suspect what had dumped kerosine on his attitude or who’d lit the match to set it off.
Hunter looked toward the rough floorboards, fighting to douse away his fiery mood.
“I wouldn’t do that to you. Unless you wanted to come.” With a stern expression, Mama B used both hands to scoot the box containing their weeks’ worth of groceries across the glass counter. “That could prove interesting.”
Hunter felt his nose flare as he drew in a hard breath.Lock it down!He forced his face up until his eyes met hers. “Sure. Why not? Name the date. Zel and I will be there.”
With an unwavering look—one that blended compassion and frustration—Mama B held his stare and then shook her head. “This won’t do you any good, Hunt.”
This . . . this what? This pretending? This frustration? This determination not to look pathetic? Hunter wasn’t sure what the older woman meant. But he knew what wasn’t doing him any good.
Janie.
This persistent attachment to Janie. Especially when she seemed resolved to wreck him. He wanted her out of his head. He desperately needed to get the image of her flirting with Game and Parks entirely deleted from his brain.
Hunter rolled a fist and squeezed it tight. Had it been less than an hour ago that he’d determined to fight for her?
The firestorm in his mind and heart was full of contradictions, and Hunter couldn’t make his thoughts make sense, let alone be consistent. Reaching for the box, he glanced down to Hazel.
She’d been awfully quiet during this brief stop at the Pantry.
Putting his energy into her might be a much better distraction than hoping he’d somehow lose consciousness.
“Let’s go,” he mumbled. If he could shove all the wound-up emotions about his own life to the back of his mind, he could focus on whatever was bothering his sister. That would likely be way more productive.
Hazel nodded and moved to open the door. The sleigh harness jangled an irritating sound and then Hunter was out on the boardwalk. Breathing in the snowy air, the cold in his lungs aided in dousing the flames in his chest, and his self-consumed frustration settled by degrees. He slid the box of goods onto the truck bed, and both he and Hazel climbed into the cab at the same time.
They were bouncing their way on the ridge—a solid ten minutes later—before Hunter felt like he had a grip on himself enough to address Hazel. Once again he noted that she’d not said a word. Just sat over there staring out the passenger window.
“Something happen?” he asked.
Hazel blinked. Her lips remained a flat line. And then she tipped her head until her temple rested against the glass. “We both stink at relationships, don’t we?”
Rolling a tighter grip on the steering wheel, Hunter let that comment take a deep dive. All the way down to the place where honesty could rub a man’s emotions raw. Especially when that kind of truth left him floundering in a pit of hopelessness.
Were the Wallace siblings doomed to failed romances and lonely futures?
Maybe they’d end up like Matthew and Marilla Cuthbert—the elderly siblings in Janie’s favoriteAnne of. . . something series.
