“I want to live,” I say.
“I know,” Hunter answers immediately.
His faith in me makes me feel like I can do this. Like I can survive. I allowed my depression to pull me away from him, but he was still right there waiting for me, and maybe I didn’t deserve that. Maybe I don’t deserve a friend like him.Friend.That word doesn’t even feel right, but it’s all I’ve got.
Weeks of texting and calling and FaceTiming and animal pictures and farm updates. Weeks of his quiet, compassionate care don’t feel like friendship. Not to me.
Sleeping in his arms doesn’t feel like friendship. Burying myself in his warmth and finding freedom there, being unchained from the shackles holding me down, doesn’t feel like friendship.
It feels like salvation.
Hunter Lock might be my salvation. And calling him a friend when he’s all of those things feels wrong.
I clear my throat. “Can I sit in the middle?”
Wordlessly, Hunter moves his arm, and I unbuckle and scoot to the middle then fasten my seatbelt again.
“Gonna take ya another nap?” he asks quietly.
I glance up at the GPS. We’re less than an hour away, and I feel better than I have in weeks. Not great, but better. I’m nowhere near my normal baseline, but when I was sitting at zero? This is everything.
“No. I just want to…” I let my voice trail off, then rest my head against Hunter’s shoulder.
His arm tenses, and for a second I wonder if he doesn’t want me to be doing this, but before I can move, his arm is resting over my thigh, his hand gripping my knee.
“Okay?” he asks softly.
“Okay,” I sigh.
Perfect, really.
The world passes us by as we fly down the interstate, and I just let myself exist.
After a few minutes, I place my hand over Hunter’s, and he turns it palm up.
I trace patterns along his fingers with my own. Trace the lines of his palms. Feel the calluses on his fingers from working. Brush my fingertips over his wrist.
His breath catches in his throat, but I don’t think it’s bad, so I keep going.
It’s mindless, almost. And soothing. I just like being near him. Touching him and being touched by him reminds me I’m alive.
And more than that, it reminds me that I want to be.
WhenHunterturnsintothe parking garage for my apartment, my stomach sours a little. I really don’t want him to see the worst of my worst. But he hasn’t flinched at anything I’ve shown him yet. Not a single thing.
So when he puts the truck in park and climbs out when I do, I steel myself and lead him to the elevators.
My apartment is on the third floor, and it’s a miracle the rickety elevator even makes it. This was one of the few places I could afford without working my ass off. At this point, the world knows I can’t work my ass off.
Even still, it’s shitty. And Hunter is about to witness my shitty.
We step off the elevator together, and he surprises me by hooking his fingers around mine.
I give his a squeeze and make the short walk down the hall to my apartment.
It feels like it’s been a lifetime since I’ve been here.
There’s something hanging on my door, which isn’t a big surprise. There are all kinds of restaurants around here that drop off flyers with their specials, so when I stop in front of the door, that’s what I’m expecting.
