I nodded. “Of course. Let’s go.”
He’d taken a cab to my house, and he had it waiting out on the street where it couldn’t be seen. We walked across my lawn together and hopped into the cab.
When we got to his house, the first thing I thought was how eerily quiet it was as we stepped inside the foyer.
“Deadly silent,” Hunter said immediately.
I jerked my head over to him. He shrugged like he was trying the words out to see how horrible they felt.
Then, he leaned over and gagged, barely making it down the hall to the lone bathroom before he threw up in the toilet.
I grabbed a washcloth, wet it with cool water, and put it on the back of Hunter’s neck. His hands gripped the toilet seat so hard his knuckles were white.
“Hunt.” I ran my hand down his back. “Let’s get you into bed.”
But he insisted on cleaning up first.
I followed him into the bathroom and started handing him soap and a clean washcloth from the linen closet.
“What if I can never wash off the blood?” His face was still so pale that all I could see were his green eyes glittering with grief.
I stepped closer and took the soap from him. “We’ll get it all off. I’ll help you.”
It took several scrubbings to fully clean his daddy’s blood off of him, and even then, we found more on his jeans.
“Jump into the shower,” I finally said. “I’ll put a pair of your sweatpants outside the door for when you’re done.”
I left the bathroom and rummaged through his drawer to grab his track pants. I left them outside the bathroom for him, and then I grabbed one of Hunter’s t-shirts and a pair of his shorts for myself to change into.
When he came out, without him inviting me to stay and without me asking if I should, we climbed into his twin-sized bed together.
I kept my back to him and as much distance between us as I could at first, not sure what he wanted from me. But when I felt the bed shake, I rolled over toward him.
“Hunt.”
He shifted to face me. The tears coming down his face were visible in the moonlight coming through his window.
I didn’t know then that would be the last time I’d ever see Hunter cry about his father.
I scooted closer so I could take him in my arms.
His tears soaked through my t-shirt, and when he lifted his head and said so, my response was immediate.
“You think I care about that? I care about you, Hunt. Just you.”
Nothing had ever felt more true or more right.
In that moment, I would have gladly given up Broadway for a shot at something real with Hunter Storm.
His hungry lips sought mine, and we came together in a clash of pain, confusion, and grief.
Within seconds, he’d pulled the t-shirt up and over my head. His hands cupped my bare breasts, his thumbs running over my nipples.
“Hunter.” I bit back on a moan.
His eyes locked with mine. “You’re so beautiful.”
His mouth went to my neck, and he peppered me with kisses all the way to my breasts. His hands went to the top of the shorts I was wearing. He slid his fingers just inside the waistband and paused before glancing up at me.
