I wrote down these things in a personal journal, never wanting to forget the feelings he invoked within me. Not today, not tomorrow, and not for decades to come. Maybe one day, long after we passed, someone would find my penned words tucked in the safety of these papers and learn that to be loved so effortlessly like this was possible.
It was jarring how quickly my heart went from an inhabitant in my own chest to suddenly walking outside of my body in the form of Hunter Saint Warren.
And it was humbling—almost painful—to witness. Any hurt directed at me, I could withstand. But hurt directed at Hunter? It would ache differently. All I wanted now was to protect and sheltermio principefrom the harms of this wretched world. If I ever told him that, he would smile, shake his head, kiss me, and tell me I was being worrisome for no reason.
But he didn’t understand that if he was no longer in this world, I wouldn’t survive.
It was getting harder and harder to live life and not tell Hunter how much I loved him. There were moments where I wanted to…but an invisible zip kept my lips sealed shut. I was overthinking. Too much in my head. Continuously waiting it out for the right time.
I even came close to telling him on Saturday night, after a double date with Layla and Josh, when we were on our way home.
The weather was gloomy and cold, a light drizzle falling from the sky. Hunter let me drive, saying it would be good practice. Both our phones had died, ironically, so we were listening to the radio—an old favourite Beyoncé song playing in the background—while we conversed. Less than a mile away from home, the car released a flapping sound, followed by the unmistakable crunch of something. My fingers tightened on the wheel and Ibraked, peering at Hunter with confusion and fear rooted in my sternum. “Hunter?”
He gazed out his window, muttering a curse as he found whatever he was looking for. “Sounds like a flat tire. I think you drove over a patch of glass. There’s a flurry of broken beer bottles lining the sidewalk and road.”
I felt horrible and guilty. “I’m so sorry.”
He tutted and grabbed my chin. “Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault. Plus, it’s extremely dark out, so it’s not like you could have seen the mess. I didn’t either.” He stroked his thumb over my jaw, noticing my panic. “Hey—it’s okay. Relax, Gabby.”
My shoulders deflated as I shifted the gear into park. “But I feel bad.”
“And I’m telling you not to,” he said. “This car doesn’t have a spare tire, so you’ll have to drive closer to the curb and park. Since we’re less than ten minutes from home, we’ll walk and then I’ll call the insurance company.”
The flat tire was worse than either of us expected. A new screeching sound echoed in the five seconds it took me to line the car with the curb. Great. The earth should open right now and swallow me whole. I was never driving his or any car ever again.
“Gabby.” Hunter unbuckled his seatbelt. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop it.”
I unbuckled my belt too, shame pelting at me from different angles. “What?”
“Baby,” he murmured. “These things happen to beginners and veteran drivers. It’s okay. It’s not a big deal. This is part of the driving experience. Please don’t berate yourself or let this stop you from driving again.”
“I gave your car a flat tire. You’re not mad at me?”
Franco would have cussed me the fuck out if I’d done that to his Camry.
He cupped my face. “I could never be mad at you.”
“You don’t hate me?”
He frowned, mildly disturbed that I would think that, but perhaps understanding that in my previous relationship, I would get chided for the smallest of mishaps. “What I feel for you is the furthest thing from hate.”
Butterflies swarmed in my stomach. “Yeah?”
Hunter pecked my lips softly. “Yeah.”
He was looking at me like he was in love with me. It undid me.
Telling him that I loved him after giving his car a flat tire probably wasn’t a good idea. Nor would it be my finest moment. So once more, I kept those three words locked in the safety of my heart.
Hunter stepped out of the car and came to my side, opened my door and extended his hand for me. I accepted it and handed him his keys. But then my heel broke and I stumbled forward with a yelp.
He chuckled, breaking my fall before I could face-plant into the ground.
“I got you.” My boyfriend swung me into his arms in a princess-carry style. “You’re okay.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck, gazing at him with heart eyes. “My hero.”
“All your book boyfriends wrapped into one, huh?”
