“Your dad isn’t alone, Renleigh. And if your mom leaves, you can come back. Or I’ll hire a home health aide to come, someone who can stay with him, maybe help him rehab faster.”
His offer warms my heart, and I have to brush away the tears that rapidly form in my eyes as I shake my head.
“It’s not my dad, Hunter. You’re right. Someone else can care for him. My mom can care for him.”
He deflates physically, his body sinking into the driver’s seat and his neck hunching.
“Then, what is it? What’s in our way? Because I want this, Renleigh. I want you.Us.”
He bites his bottom lip, and I’m so tempted to crawl over this center console and bite it back, but I don’t. I have to say my own hard truth out loud.
“I can’t come with you because I’m not sure I’m strong enough in here”—I pat my hand on the center of my chest—“to handle you leaving week after week, and month after month. I can’t . . .”
I’m having trouble breathing, and Hunter pulls his seat belt off and lunges over the center console to cradle my face with his warm hands.
“I know, I get it. I understand,” he says, bringing his forehead to mine.
I wrap my hands around his wrists and breathe with him, my heart pounding so hard that it nearly drowns out my thoughts. If only it pounded harder, and maybe then I would think about how terrified I am to be alone.
“Maybe eventually. Maybe . . . I don’t know.” I start to cry at that reality. What if I’m broken beyond repair? What if I’ve pushed myself into this coping box that I’ll never get out of?
“So I’ll wait. And I’ll drive to Sweetwater. I’ll drive down here every goddamn week if that’s what it takes. And I’ll call you from the road. And I’ll?—”
“But you have your life, too. I don’t want you taking care of me and my fucked-up head and heart,” I choke out.
“Ren,” he says, his lips brushing mine. I hold on to the soft kiss, memorizing the brush of his lips. “I do have my life, and this is what I want for it. I want you. And us. I want our shot. And if that means I drive through small-town America a million times a year . . .”
I blubber out a pathetic laugh.
“I’ll do it,” he says.
I swallow the sharp, invisible rocks terrorizing my throat and nod before kissing him harder, and soon, he sweeps me into his lap, my back against the steering wheel. He maneuvers his seat back more, and my hands fight to unbutton his jeans and work the zipper down. He helps, pulling his cock out and gripping it while I tug the skirt of my dress up my thighs and drag the cotton strip of my panties to the side with my finger so he can guide himself into me. I sink onto him, his cock flexing inside me as I roll my hips and hum into his mouth. He deepens our kiss, his hands sliding under my dress and grabbing my ass, pulling me into him as his hips thrust upward.
“I want to have this. I need this,” I say at his ear, his mouth hot on my neck. His teeth graze my ear as he pulls me onto him harder.
“You can have me. All of me. And this is enough for now if it’s all you can give. I won’t stop trying. I won’t stop waiting. I will never not fight for you,” he mutters against my skin.
The build between us is swift, our bodies hot with sweat as the first wave sends shocks down from the pit of my stomach to the wet center between my legs. I moan as I search for his mouth, and the moment we kiss, my orgasm rocks through me, taking my breath with it. A deep groan vibrates from the depths of Hunter’s chest as he fills me with his warmth, thrusting into me one final time until he’s emptied every bit of himself inside of me.
Instead of climbing back to my seat, instead of feeling the cool burn of embarrassment on my cheeks for not being able to control myself when it comes to him, I revel where I am. I stay here in his arms, with him inside me, for as long as it takes to not feel the hole in my heart that formed the minute he got called up to Texas.
There’s nowhere for us to sleep together, not in that house, anyway. Too many Blackwoods in too many of the rooms. So I stay in Hunter’s truck, holding on to him, and letting him stroke my hair and tickle my spine until the sun peeks over the horizon.
Now, I can barely keep my eyes open, and I have to rally and clock in for my shift.
Hunter left me just after six in the morning with the promise that he’d be back in Sweetwater in a week. The slight bit of furniture he accumulated here in town is at Roddy’s place, in the garage, so that’s where Hunter headed when he left. He said he couldn’t live without the bookcase we picked out together, but I think he simply didn’t want to build another one.
I knot my hair at the base of my neck and push through the door to Earl’s, glad to have the breakfast crowd here to greet me instead of a hopping Friday night.
“Mornin’, Ren,” Daisy says as she flies by with a plate filled with hashbrowns and eggs. She carries the order to a man at the end of the bar, then makes her way back to me, punching in the keys on the register over my shoulder since I’m struggling to get my number right.
“I love you, doll, but you look exhausted. Are you feeling all right?”
I nod, but the moment I pivot and meet her gaze, the weight of everything combusts inside of me, and suddenly I’m sobbing.
“Oh, honey. Come on,” she says, taking my hand and guiding me to the kitchen where she holds me to her chest while I let everything out.
I cry for a solid ten minutes, and every time I try to stop and explain why I’m such a mess, I get to Hunter’s name and fall apart again. Daisy gives me a glass of water, and I clutch it between two hands, terrified I’ll drop it and send shards of glass flying in all directions. I take tiny sips until my breathing regulates, then hand the heavy glass back to her so I can press my palms to my puffy eyes.
