“You have no right to be jealous,” I snap, noticing the bartender quietly slipping to the back to give us privacy. “It's not like our marriage is real anyway, right?”
“Right,” Hunter grunts and instantly gets to his feet, tapping his fingers on the counter in an impatient manner. “So now that the prince is gone, I guess you won't be needing me or this marriage anymore,” he huffs through his nostrils before turning and marching toward the door, leaving me at the counter with a sinking feeling of dread.
Watching him walk away feels like closing a book I haven't read thoroughly. There's information I haven't fully grasped, and I can't let the book slip from my fingers.
That's what this feels like—like I'm losing him. I'm losing Hunter as he walks away, and it's something I can't accept. My heart won't let me, even if I've been clinging to the hurt he caused me in the past. It's this heart that held a world of love for him before, and I can't bear to see him leave like this, with so much unsaid.
I don't bother with the drink I thought I needed, rushing to the front of the door to go after him. To my surprise, Hunter is still standing on the sidewalk, hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants, his head hanging low.
My heart skips a beat when I see him, and I'm about to say something when he beats me to it.
“You want me to sign divorce papers now?” he scoffs without turning, prompting me to move ahead and face him.
“Divorce papers? Is that what you want?” I ask, my bottom lip trembling with the fear of losing him a second time, as if his question is another bout of rejection.
“It's whatyouwill want now,” Hunter says as he lifts his head, the long strands of his dark hair sweeping his forehead, shielding his eyes, but I can see the way his eyes are glossed over with tears that glimmer like stars in the night sky.
My heart aches for him, for me, forus.
“It's not like you need me anymore…”
“Is that what you think?” I scoff to hide the way my heart is breaking. “You think I don't need you?”
“You never did, Delilah,” Hunter sighs despondently. “You've never needed me. Everything I touch turns to dust, anyway.”
I frown at Hunter. “What are you talking about? What do you mean by everything you touch turns to dust?”
Hunter looks up, and my heart skips another beat. Our eyes meet in the silence with words unspoken, and he stares at me as if he can read my expression, my emotions, like a book he remembers every intricate detail of, every word. He sighs, cutting through the silence, pursing his lips in contemplation as he stares into my eyes.
“It doesn't matter,” he dismisses, stepping over the sidewalk and passing me.
“It does matter, Hunter!” I call out after him, done with this constant back and forth. “When will you stop running and tell me what the hell is going on?! You keep shutting me out, and I don't know what else to do but keepyouout! And I'm tired of it!”
Hunter turns slowly, his lips still pursed as his eyes narrow, his shoulders dropping as if he's letting go of tension.
“You won't look at me the same way when I tell you.”
“Try me,” I declare as I straighten up, ready to face whatever he throws my way. I've dealt with worse when he broke my heart, and nothing can be scarier than that.
Chapter 16 - Hunter
Staring at Delilah's face, I can see the sincerity in her eyes and the sadness that lurks in the golden depths, and it pains my heart to see her in this condition.
It's because of me, and I hate feeling like I've just destroyed something again. I keep doing it. Keep touching things and turning them to dust.
Like I did in the past….
Sighing when I realize Delilah won't let this go, I sink to the sidewalk, bending my knees and propping my elbows on my thighs. Wringing my hands together, I wait for Delilah to join me on the bricks before I begin.
She's right. I'm always running, and the worst thing I can do is run from the one person I care about the most. I did it before, and it almost broke me, and I can't let this second chance slip through my fingers. She deserves the truth.
“Remember that night during ops, when I went on that covert mission?” I ask Delilah, and see her slowly nodding as she stares at the tar on the road.
“That was the night you—you came back and—” Her voice is strained with memories of that night when I returned from the mission, and found her waiting for me in my motel room.
She'd been so sweet, so gentle, not probing about the mission that we had to go through without her. Instead, she'd thrown her arms around me and reminded me that we were leaving Alaska the next morning, and she didn't want to leave without us making our fated mate bond official.
Delilah said there was something in the cold air out there that made her realize what she wanted in life, while it wasthat very same cold air that hardened my heart and made it impossible to take that leap with her.
