Me neither. “Timing,” I say in a forced tone. “We were both so career-oriented.”
“He’s hot as hell,” Blaire says with a teasing smile in my direction.
“He is,” I agree. “That’s a fact. But he’s…complicated.”
“He seems like he’d be pretty intense,” Blaire says.
“He’s had to deal with some difficult stuff.” Peyton’s voice turns sad. “Hunter’s daddy was murdered when the boys were teenagers. The police never found the murderer.”
Blaire sighs. “How tragic. Aren’t all four Storm brothers in the pros?”
I nod. “They were single-minded in that. Their dad was their biggest fan. Once he was gone, I think they all felt like they owed it to him to make it.”
“Well, it’s incredible that they all did.” Blaire looks at me. “So what’s the backstory between you and Hunter?”
“They had endless ‘almosts’ but never sealed the deal,” Peyton says before I can speak.
I gesture toward Peyton. “What she said. And I can’t live with him now,” I add, hating how vulnerable I sound when I say it. “The risk feels ridiculously large. I was there for all of ten minutes, and I already had trouble keeping my hands off of him.”
“Win and Hunter have a nuclear attraction,” Peyton says to Blaire. “It’s even hot to watch them flirt. You’ll see.”
“Youwon’tsee,” I say. “Because I can’t socialize with him.” I turn to Peyton. “Maybe you can set me up with somebody harmless and safe while I’m here, someone I can flirt with but not actually desire. Someone who doesn’t come with a giant warning label like Hunter Storm.”
Peyton and Blaire burst out laughing. “That sounds like the opposite of boyfriend material,” Blaire says. “Or even hot fling material. Why would you want to date someone you don’t even want?”
I play it off with a laugh, but inside, I’m shaking. The idea of being with any man after being attacked by one…it just doesn’t feel possible right now. Maybe someday, but not yet.
“So, what are you going to do about your living situation?” Peyton asks me.
I shake my head. “I have no fucking clue.”
I came home to heal, and Hunter and I…we’re too combustible to be healthy.
Besides, the darkness that’s surrounded me for the past six months has been threatening to engulf me utterly, and I haven’t found the exit door to escape my pain.
What happened to me could have happened to anyone.
I tell myself that every day. But the shame and the fear eat away at me anyway. Being attacked put me in a place of vulnerability where now, every time I step outside, I feel exposed. Like the world knows my secret and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. Every morning, I get up and look out at the sun, praying today will be the day the world will stop feeling black.
Seeing Hunter again is the first time I felt a ray of sunshine return to my soul.
The easy banter we still had with each other and the way he looked at me, I felt…wanted. Desired. But I know him—he won’t be satisfied with surface-level chit-chat. He never was. So I need to keep him at arm’s length. Because I don’t want anyone to know why Pat really sent me home, and if I let him in, Hunter won’t give up until he learns the truth.
CHAPTERFIVE
Hunter
I show up at the Allen mansion early the next morning. I figure Winter could use some help moving her stuff, and I don’t have practice until later. Wanting to see her again to make sure she doesn’t change her mind on moving in with me has nothing to do with it.Right.
The Allens live on the other side of the city from where I grew up. The rich side of the Big Easy. I may be living well now, but it wasn’t always that way. My mama died when we were all young, and my dad did his best to make ends meet. He ran a convenience store that doubled as a gas station, and we spent hours there after school. It seemed like a good gig for him. Until he was shot and killed one night in a robbery hold-up.
I step out of my truck and try to ignore the lurching feeling in the pit of my stomach. I haven’t been here in years, and the last time I left, I swore it would be the last.
I take off my baseball cap and head up the perfectly-manicured walkway toward the house. The chirping birds and bright sky belie my sense of foreboding as I get closer and closer to the front door Mr. Allen threw me out of on more than one occasion for being a “bad influence on his daughter.”
I reach the red wooden door and ring the bell. The doorbell sounds the same: large and brass and irritating.
A long wait before the door finally swings open, and Mrs. Allen greets me.
