Catherine looked like she wanted the floor to open and take her gently.
“Hi.”
I pointed toward Isla’s room with the authority of a man who had none. “Mom. Door.”
She disappeared back into Isla’s room, but not before giving me a look that promised a trial, sentencing, and possible execution. I opened the condo door. Catherine stepped into the hallway, then turned back to me. For a second, neither of us knew what to say.
“I’ll call you later, and I’ll make this up to you,” I promised.
“Don’t call me until you survive your mother.”
“That might be never.” I rolled my eyes.
I wanted to kiss her, but I didn’t. Not with my mother thirty feet away and my daughter in the next room. So I touched her hand once, just the brush of my fingers against hers.
“I’ll make this right,” I said.
She nodded and walked down the hall. I watched until she turned the corner, then closed the door and leaned my forehead against it. For three seconds, I let myself be a dead man.
Then my mother said from behind me, “Hunter.”
I turned. She stood in the hallway now, arms crossed, eyes blazing. Her voice was low, but somehow worse than if she’d yelled. “What are you thinking?”
I glanced toward Isla’s room. “Keep your voice down.”
“I am keeping my voice down. You should be grateful,” she whisper-shouted. “Catherine Davis?”
I exhaled slowly. “Yes.”
“Cole and Holland’s Catherine? Your coach’s daughter? The girl who used to babysit Isla?”
“Mom, I know.”
“Do you? Because from where I’m standing, you had Catherine Davis in your bed while your daughter could have walked in.”
My stomach turned. “She wasn’t supposed to be home.”
“No, the point is that if Isla had opened that door instead of going to her bathroom, what then?”
“I don’t know.” I didn’t have a good enough answer because that would have been bad.
Mom’s face softened for half a second. Then it hardened again. “And Cole? What happens when Cole finds out?”
“It’s not something I’m ready to face yet,” I replied, knowing it wouldn’t be enough.
“Do you care about her?”
The question landed differently. I looked away. That told her enough.
“Oh, Hunter,” she whispered.
“Don’t.”
“I need to call your father.”
“No.”
“I do. Because I cannot process this alone, and your father needs to know before I say something unhelpful.”
