When she finally removes the old heater parts, I put them on the truck bed. The frustration is building in Sloan’s eyes as she inspects the damaged cables. It’s a good thing I told the mechanics to include some of them too.
“Here are some more cables and wires if you need some to fix this?” I tell her, getting the heavy box with the new heater and letting myself into the van without an invitation. It’s a struggle to climb the step, but I manage to set it down next to where she is kneeling.
I’m too tall to stand in here, so I crouch uncomfortably.
She turns as if she’s forgotten I was there or wasn’t expecting me to be in her space before she looks inside the box.
“That’s not a used heater,” she states, frowning at me.
“Well, I hope so. I got it from a shop. They don’t sell used ones,” I tease, trying to kneel beside her, but she stops me.
“I need space. Sit on the bed,” Sloan commands, pointing a finger toward the bed with her eyes still on the heater.
“I can help,” I protest, but I’m already sinking onto the bed, grateful not to ruin my back by standing.
“You can help by staying away,” she counters, shooting me a look and making me smirk. Kneeling in such a small space with my leg is impossible, and she knows it, giving me an out.
While Sloan works, she gnaws on her lip brutally, and I would love to move and pull it out from between her teeth, but I just sit and watch her.
“So, you’re telling me you went to the shop two hours from here, getting me all these parts and spending a fortune on me?”
Yes.
“It wasn’t a fortune,” I lie.
“Oh, I know exactly how much this was.” She scowls at me. “And you did that yesterday? Or when?” she asks again, not looking at me, but there is something in her tone, something more to the question.
“Yesterday, yes,” I tell her, shuddering again at the thought of that drive from hell. I stopped counting how many times my panic overwhelmed me, and I had to keep myself from turning around.
She turns to look at me, her frown getting even more prominent. “You drove four hours in total in the pouring rain?” I don’t know if the question sounds like she doesn’t believe me because she knows what kind of torture it was, how much I had to push myself for her, or because she can’t believe I did.
But I know her enough to believe it’s the former. She paid attention to me.
I just nod, unable to get out ayesbecause ayesisn’t enough.
I did that for you because I would do anything for you, anything to make it right, anything to get you back.
I would walk through fire or, better yet, rain. I would go back on a boat in the ocean in a storm. I would almost drown again just to have you look at me with the same look you did before. I would lose my other leg to make things right for us.
She looks at me for a long moment, then at the floor, scrunching up her nose in the way she does when she’s thinking hard before her gaze goes back up to me, way softer this time. “Why are you doing this, Hunter?” The question is honest, without accusation, without bitterness.She really needs to know the why.
But…
“I already told you,” I answer, meeting her inquiring gaze.
“Butwhy?” Her tone becomes pleading, even softer, breaking at the last word. She’s so hurt, but I can see the longing. I know it.
I feel the same.
“Because you deserve to have something good. You deserve to have everything you dream of. You didn’t deserve what I did. You’re the only one who can put a smile on my face without even trying, and I…” I stop, holding myself back. Telling her I love her won’t help a thing right now. It would just make her push me away again, “I really enjoy being with you.”
She nods as if she understands what I’m saying, reading between the lines. She looks to my left on the bed, and when I turn to look there, too, I can’t see anything, but I feel something on my shoulder. The same way I feel the phantom pain in my leg—it’s there, but it’s not. It’s like a hand laying there to support me. It’s a feeling I’ve had a few times before, always in the same space, the same room I visit from time to time.
And a name flies through my mind.
Saylor.
I probably imagine things, wishing them so hard my subconscious lets me feel them.
