I’ve wished so many times for him to let me in. Now that he finally is ... I can’t stop the wild dance in my heart.
Hunt
Ihold Blue’s hand tight and lead her through the motel parking lot. Her soft fingers curl around mine. She’s a perfect fit in my grip.Of course she is.
I sneak a glance at her, intending to only look for a second, but, like always, it’s out of my control. She holds me captive. She’s staring up at the setting sun, a small smile playing on the corners of her mouth. A cute little skip in each step. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was just enjoying the sunshine. And, yeah, she is, but there’s more to it. There’s always more to it with Blue. She’s always watching, thinking, connecting dots I don’t even see; discovering extra layers of light behind the obvious rays.
My lips twitch, and I tug her closer, loving the breathless sound she lets out.
It wasn’t impulsive, asking Blue to come with me tonight. I turned the idea over in my head for days. But I hate when she’s not with me, and being with her ... it’s like I’m breathing for the first damn time. Honestly, I don’t know how the hell I didn’t suffocate before we met.
If Henry were squatting in his typical shithole, there’s no way I would have brought her along. Thankfully, he agreed to a few days at the motel when I told him I was thinking about inviting Blue.
Wednesday nights have always been my night with Henry. It’s the one night of the week he lets me order takeout without argument. The one night we’re not our baggage, just two guys hanging out. Which is why I thought for sure getting him to agree to this would take more convincing than it did. But once I asked, I saw the shock cross his features. He watched me for a long minute, staring a little too hard, then said, “You really like this girl, don’t you?” The second I nodded, he was in. Didn’t even fight me on the motel either.
When we reach Room 39, I use my free hand to knock a few times. No one answers, so I try again. The hell? I glance at Blue, meeting her gaze, and she looks back at the door, chewing her lip. Just when I raise my fist for the third time, the door swings open.
A frail woman I’ve never seen before stands in the doorway, brown curls slipping from the bun hanging low on her head. Wide, red-rimmed eyes lined with age and emotion shift between me and Blue. Her cheeks are shiny, catching glints of sunlight on her dark skin. Shoulders sagging, she wipes her nose with the back of her hand.
“You must be Hunt,” she whispers, her words shaky. “I’m so glad I get the chance to thank you.”
My brows crash together, a strange feeling knotting my gut. “I’m sorry, ma’am ... uh, do I know you?”
She smiles, but it’s not really a smile at all. “No. You don’t. Just ... thank you. For looking out for him.” Before I can get another word in, she pushes past us, muttering something to herself before darting across the parking lot and vanishing around the side of a grocery market.
Blue squeezes my hand, pulling my confused focus away from the vacant street corner. She shoots another look inside the room, then back to me. “I’ll wait here, okay?”
That’s when I spot him. Henry’s sitting on the floor, leaning against the foot of the bed with both hands cradling his face. His whole body’s trembling.
I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen the man cry. The most recent of which was when Blue first arrived and spied us at the park near school. For the first time ever, he’d actually asked me for money. Not a small amount either. When I gave it to him, he broke down right there on the park bench. Of course, he tried to give it back soon after, but I wouldn’t take it. I’ve wondered ever since what he did with all that cash. Sure didn’t use it on himself.
Finally, I give Blue a nod, reluctantly release her hand, and step into the motel room.
It’s quiet. Thick with the remnants of whatever just happened.
I clear my throat, giving him a heads-up. “Henry.”
No response.
What the hell did I miss? Moving closer, I cautiously sit beside him. I glance his way, but it’s not easy seeing him like this. So, instead, I stare straight ahead at the wall. “Henry, man. Who was that?”
After letting out a long breath, he rubs his eyes with the heels of his palms. “That ... was my wife.”
My eyes snap to his. “Your what?”
“Beautiful, isn’t she?” He swings his heavy head toward me.
I nod slowly, unable to believe it. How could he be married?
“We tied the knot a long time ago,” he says, reading my mind. “Thirty-five years, to be exact.” My brows shoot up, and he chuckles, but the sound is dripping with sadness and loss. “We were sixteen.”
“How’d it happen, Henry? How’d you end up ... you know, while she’s ... not?”
“Ah, man. She’d tell you it’s PTSD.” He grimaces. “Because that’s what I told her.”
Pushing out a breath, I mutter, “Jesus. I don’t know what to say. I didn’t realize—”
“It’s not PTSD, Hunt. I just ... I’ve moved on.”
