Sure enough, as soon as I turn back, the woman slides off the counter and storms toward me.
Shit.
Before I can react, she closes the distance in a few quick strides and slams me against the wall, her teeth bared.
I stiffen, my body automatically bracing for impact.
It’s not Craig. It’s not Craig. It’s not Craig.
“You don’t deserve Hunter’s attention, you slut.” Her voice is venomous, her breath thick with alcohol. Her eyes rake over me with pure revulsion. “You aren’t even his fucking type,”
For a split second, the words sting. Because I’ve heard them before. From Craig. From strangers. From myself.
But then, just as quickly, something shifts inside me. I won’t let her see that it hurts.
I refuse to let her make me feel like nothing.
I nod. “I may not be his type, and I may be disgusting in your eyes. But I’m not here for anyone's attention. I’m just here for a place to stay safe with my child. That’s all.”
She pushes off of my chest and stands in front of me.Her lips curl in a sneer. “Well, he won’t come to my bed, which means you are the reason because I am smoking fucking hot.” She points at her body. “Who wouldn’t want to bed this?”
She is clearly intoxicated, so I let my chuckle slip, raising a brow. “I can definitely see the appeal.”
Her eyes narrow in confusion, as if she wasn’t expecting that response.
I tilt my head. “May I go to the room now? Or do you have something more to say to me?”
She growls and stomps her foot like a child, then marches off in the opposite direction. I’m taking that show as a yes, and I can go to the room. I turn and walk toward the room, my heart still hammering in my chest, my hands shaking slightly.
Charlie sits on the large bed in the center of the room when I walk through the door.
“Mommy?”
“Hmm?”
“Why is that woman so angry with you?”
I shrug. “I’m not really sure, Charlie. Sometimes women just don’t like other women.” I brush a loose piece of hair from her brow. “It will be okay. Let’s get into bed.”
I make up her cot and lay down her pillow. I reach into our bag and grab a brush to comb her hair out and then change her into a large shirt to sleep in. “There you go. Now all we have to do is brush our teeth, and we’ll be ready for bed.”
She grabs her supplies and heads toward the bathroom.
As I crawl into Hunter’s bed, a wave of anxiety settles in my chest. The bed smells like him—clean, warm, and undeniably him—and that alone makes my pulse race.
I quickly stack a barrier of pillows behind me, creating a line I won’t cross. If we don’t touch, if there’s distance, then I can pretend this is just a place to sleep. Nothing more.
Chapter 33
Hunter
I watch as Blake and her daughter disappear through the front door of the house. I should walk her to my room. I should make sure she is safe from Candace. But I can’t bring myself to follow after she flinched away from me. Me, of all fucking people. The image replays in my head, searing itself into my brain—her body tensing, her eyes flickering with fear, the way she instinctivelypulled back like she thought I’d hurt her. I have never laid a hand on a woman in my life, not even when that woman was the cause of my daughter's death.
I will strangle a man with my bare hands, crush his windpipe, and watch the light drain from his eyes without an ounce of remorse.
But I would never hit a woman.
And yet, Blake looked at me like sheexpectedit.
