Page 54 of Hunter

I sink down onto my couch, and Sofia jumps up next to me and stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. Maybe I have.

I need Lucy to talk me down before I do something reckless like text him my apartment number in case he’s forgotten it. Instead, I force myself to type something safer.

Me: Goodnight, Hunter. Thank you for today. I had fun.

Hunter: Goodnight, beautiful.

I stare at that last word for way too long. Beautiful. The same thing the falafel guy calls me, but it hits completely different coming from him.

Sofia headbutts my arm until I scratch behind her ears, purring like she’s proud of me for being a disaster. I drop my phone on the cushion and lean my head back, eyes closed.

Two weeks, and I’m already letting him kiss me stupid on my doorstep. Already considering throwing every “no fucking damaged guys” rule I made for myself out the window. Already imagining what it would feel like to have him in my bed, on top of me, inside me—rough and careful at the same time, the way I know he’d be.

And the worst part is that I don’t want to stop. I want to see how much further this can go before one of us breaks.

Chapter 22

Hunter

I make it three blocks before I have to stop under a broken streetlight and just breathe.

My hands are still shaking. My mouth still tastes like him and that soft, desperate sound he made when I kissed him. I can still feel the way his fingers twisted in my shirt, the way he went up on his toes like he was trying to climb inside me.

I wanted to go up those stairs so fucking badly it hurt.

Instead, I’m standing here on a dirty sidewalk like a goddamn coward, hard as steel and aching with it, while every instinct screams at me to turn around and finish what we started.

I drag a hand down my face and keep walking. The healing burn on my shoulder and upper arm pull tight with every step, a sharp reminder of the last time I let myself get this close to someone.

By the time I get back to my shitty apartment, the high of the day has already started to curdle.

I drop onto the couch in the dark, still fully clothed, and stare sightlessly at my space. My phone is burning a hole in my pocket. I want to text him again. I want to tell him I changed my mind. I want to ask if he’s touching himself right now thinking about that kiss.

Instead, I close my eyes and let the day replay.

Charlie’s bright laugh. The way he felt in my arms in front of the snow leopards. How he looked while drawing me. And his face as he looked up at me, his lips swollen and face flushed after I kissed him.

My dick twitches again just thinking about it.

And then, right on cue, Robby’s voice slithers in.

Look at you, he sneers, the same bitter, mocking tone he used toward the end. Playing hero for some soft little twink with eyeliner. You gonna fix him, Hunter? Gonna save him the way you couldn’t save me?

I squeeze my eyes shut tighter, but he doesn’t stop.

You kissed him like you’re someone worth wanting. We both know you’re not. Remember how you kissed me the night I told you I was leaving? Like you could fuck the leaving out of me. How’d that work out?

“Shut up,” I mutter into the empty room. I prefer his voice when he’s encouraging me, not that he would have ever done that in life. Not at the end at least.

The echo of Robby’s laugh surrounds me—low, ugly, mocking, exactly how he sounded the night everything burned.

He’s gonna see you eventually. The drinking. The gross scars. The way you let me die because you were too fucked up to do the right thing. You think that pretty boy’s gonna stick around when he finds out you’re the reason I’m dead?

I sit up fast, elbows on my knees, head in my hands. My chest feels too tight. The apartment is too quiet. The ghosts are louder than they’ve been in days.

Because he’s right.

Charlie is bright and soft and still trying to heal. I’m the guy who watched the love of his life walk into that fire that took his life. We were both too angry to be at that call. Hell, I was so hurt that night that if it had been me in Robby’s place, I would have let the fire take me. How fucked up is that?