“I was already fucked up and bruised. I had three broken ribs. That’s why I wanted to leave him… I was just… so fuckingtiredof it.” Hunter sways us lightly back and forth, his fingers puttinggentle pressure on my scalp. “I told him over dinner. He was drinking wine. He always did. He listened; he seemed receptive. Told me he understood, and then as soon as I—I started to clean up after dinner, and he… He broke the bottle on the counter. Came after me. The glass hurt. It hurt so bad.”
My voice is shaking, and I don’t think I can keep talking or it’s going to ruin my entire day. I don’t want Damien to ruin my day. He took too many of my days away from me. I won’t let him take this one too.
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” Hunter whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re so fucking strong.”
I didn’t feel very strong. Not back then. But now? Now, I think maybe he’s right. I fought my ass off to stay alive. Fought with everything I had. I still lost. At least in the moment. Hunter was right, though. In the end, I won.
Sniffling, I pull away from him. Just far enough to look into his eyes. The warm hazel is glassy, tears clinging to his lower lashes. For the first time ever, I reach up, brushinghistears away.
He lets out a wet laugh, then catches my hand in his and brings it to his lips to press a lingering kiss on my knuckles.
When he pulls it from his mouth, my stomach flutters. “I’m sorry for dragging the mood down, but I’d very much like to go out tonight if you still want to.”
A breathtaking smile spreads across his face. “I’d love to.”
He draws me into him for a kiss, his fingers still buried in my hair, and I sigh against his mouth, sinking into his warmth.
Hunterlooksincredible.Hishair is swept back, the normally fluffy waves styled and smooth. His dark wash jeans are tight around his thigh muscles, and I’d have to be blind to not notice the way they cup his dick. It’s unreal how attractive he is.
I fixed my hair without looking in the mirror. Staring at myself isn’t fun for me, and especially not after all the unpacking I did earlier. It felt necessary, though, and talking to Hunter about it did seem to lighten the weight a bit.
But all that and then looking at myself in the mirror? Hard pass.
“You look gorgeous,” Hunter says, his eyes slowly perusing me from head to toe. “I love the length of your hair.”
When I first came here months ago, it was short. Now, it’s longer, and my natural waves are coming out, curling over my forehead and nearly touching my collar in the back. Given the way Hunter likes to bury his hands in it when he kisses me? I don’t think I’m cutting it anytime soon. At least not as short as it was before.
“Thank you. You look pretty good too.”
His lips curve into a smirk. “You ready to go?”
The drive to the restaurant is nice. I sit in the middle, resting my head on Hunter’s shoulder while he lays his hand palm up on my thigh so I can run my fingers over it.
When we pull into the parking lot of the restaurant, Hunter puts the truck in park, and we sit together in silence for a second before he turns slightly in his seat. I sit up so I can look at him, and he searches my eyes for a long moment before leaning in and kissing me.
I can’t remember a time in recent years when things felt this easy for me. When happiness was this close to the surface. When it felt this real. Thistangible.It’s been so long since I’ve beenable to taste it on my tongue. To feel it under my fingertips. To hold it in my heart.
Placing a hand on Hunter’s upper thigh, I lean closer, nearly draping myself over his lap as I kiss him deeper.
I can feel his smile against my lips. The way his chest rises and falls against mine. I can taste the joy in our kiss.
Hunter pulls back with a small breath. “Are you ready to go inside?”
“Definitely.”
After we get out of the truck, we walk hand in hand into the restaurant. It’s not overly busy, and we get taken to a small, dimly lit booth in the far back corner right away.
“This is nice,” I say, sliding into the booth across from Hunter.
“They have really good baked potatoes. And steak.”
I raise my eyebrows, a smile tugging on my lips. “How am I not surprised my country boy is all about them meat and taters?”
He lets out a laugh. “Did you just say taters? Are you making fun of my accent, sweetheart?”
“Not a chance. I love your accent.”
“Is that right?” Hunter says, and I repeat his “right” in his accent. He grins. “Is that what I sound like?”
