“I did,” I say. “So fucking much. I miss him. Maybe not in the way some people think I should, but I do. I never wanted to lose him. I wanted him to find someone who would love him the way he deserved. We were so fucking young when we got together, both of us discovering our sexuality together, experimenting together. We were always with each other, my life so entwined with his. Who even was I without Ellis? Without your father. My past was tied to him, my future, my career. My head was just all twisted up.”
Lucas sets his hands on the counter, drawing circles with his fingers. “Maybe that’s what this is too.”
“No. This is different. Itfeelsdifferent. I don’t know how to say this without it coming off bad or like I’m trying to deny how fucking incredible Ellis was, but I felt like I had to be something specific with him, like I was always striving to be asgood as him, to be what he wanted me to be, to deserve him. That’s not his fault. He didn’t ask that of me, but it was so much pressure, and no matter what I accomplished, it felt like it was never enough. He wanted to live his dreams through me, wanted to make your dad proud through me. I tried so fucking hard to do that, but I couldn’t… With you, there’s no pressure. No rules. If I fuck up, I don’t feel like you’ll lose everything you’ve ever wanted because of me. But…I know you’ll lose your dad…both of us will. He won’t be able to forgive this, and how do I ask that of you?”
“I don’t have my dad now, Hunt. Come on. You know that. That’s not how he operates. He decided a long time ago I’m not worth his time, and I never will be, and honestly, I don’t even fucking care anymore. Love isn’t supposed to be conditional.”
No. It’s not. “I wish I’d stood up for you more with him. Even the other day.”
“What would that change? He is who he is, and I am who I am, and those two things will never fit.”
Lucas walks over to the counter, grabs mugs from the cabinet, and I follow him, wrapping my arms around him, lips pressed against his shoulder. “You’re better than he could ever be…better than I let myself see before. I wish I were more like you, but I’m trying. And I know it’s wrong, especially after everything I told you, but I still want to be yours if you’ll have me. We can’t be open about it yet, I’m not ready for that, but you make me happy, Lucas, and I’ll do anything in my power to make you happy too.”
I didn’t realize how stiff he was until his body relaxes, and then Lucas is turning around, arms encircling my waist, face in my chest. “You do make me happy, and I’ll always choose you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Lucas
So far, beingHunter’s boyfriend hasn’t been much different from what we were doing before, and honestly, I’m okay with that. I don’t have to make a statement like that, don’t need people in my life and business when it’s something that really matters to me. Sure, I’m loud in who I am, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t things I hold close to my chest, and I want Hunter to be that, partly because the more people we let in, the harder it’ll be.
But when we’re together, when we’re in bed, or cooking in his kitchen, or sneaking away to quiet places to hike, I’m basking in the knowledge that Hunter is mine. That he sees something in me I never thought he would be able to see.
He makes a muffled sound, sleeping beside me. We’ve mostly stayed at his place. His last game was at home this week. I didn’t go, though that’s something a boyfriend would do, but I watched at his house and was here waiting for Hunter when he got home. I’d blown him the second he came in, and he’d joked about how lucky he was to come home to me, and I told him he might not feel the same when he saw the dirty dishes in the sink or photos spread out on his kitchen table. Hunter just laughed, said the mess didn’t bother him, then asked me to show him what I was working on, so we went over every photo together, him asking questions, eitherbeing interested or a good fucking actor.
I’ve tried not to think too much about what he told me because I’m not sure how to feel about it. Is there a part of me that feels better knowing Hunter’s feelings toward Ellis had changed? Of course. Does it ease some of my concerns knowing he had broken up with Ellis? I think anyone who pretends they wouldn’t feel that way in this situation is lying to themselves, but then there’s also the truth that it’s all so fucking sad. It’s devastating to think of Ellis being so sad and alone when he died, that he’d just lost the man he loved, and that Hunter lives with the guilt, blaming himself for what happened. That they were so fucking young when they got together, just kids, and then got wrapped up in this whole world that made them feel like they had to be a package deal.
Maybe if he’d lived, Ellis would have realized he felt the same way Hunter did.
Maybe he would have found someone better for him.
Maybe they would have realized they loved each other and gotten back together.
Maybe they would just be best friends, the way they started.
Hunter rolls over, his eyes fluttering open. We slept in today, something he’s not able to do very often. “Good morning,” he says sleepily.
“’Morning. What do you want to do today?”
“Stay in bed all day?” He smiles, then kisses me.
It’s the first day of his bye week, so Hunter has absolutely no responsibility for seven whole days. No practice, no games, no strategy meetings.
“I think that can be arranged.” I roll on top of him, and we do stay there for another two hours, talking, kissing, making each other come, then talking some more.
Eventually Hunter’s stomach growls, and he says, “Maybewe should get up. I might die if I don’t eat.”
“We wouldn’t want that,” I tease. The man can be a bottomless pit, but then, if I burned as many calories as he does on an average day, I would always need to refuel too.
We make a late breakfast together, then eat on his covered patio out back. Hunter’s house is secluded, his yard with a tall privacy fence that keeps away prying eyes.
“I wish I could see you work,” he says out of the blue.
“At a shoot?”
“Yeah. I’d like to see you in your element. You’re really fucking good, Lucas.”
I fan myself. “Aw, aren’t you sweet. And right.” I shrug. “One day,” I say. “It would be fun. I’m a dick when I’m shooting, though. Get lost in my head. Isla calls me a monster.” I chuckle.
