Chapter Sixteen
“He’s still in bed?” Hunter glanced at the kitchen clock above Jenna’s head.
“That’s what I said.” Jenna poured two containers of soup from A CertainTea into a pot and turned on the stove.
Colby must’ve visited earlier this morning. He wished she were still here to act as a buffer. Sara’s focus would remain on Gentry and the baby—not that his wife should have to be his referee.
“What are the doctors saying?” He leaned forward, flattening his hands on the island, trying his best to make nice with his stepmom for Sara’s sake. “Shouldn’t he be improving by now? Perhaps his medication needs to be adjusted.”
“Do you think I haven’t asked those questions?” Jenna stirred the soup, then clanked the ladle onto the spoon rest. “I’ve explained this already. This isn’t an uncommon reaction to the antibiotics.”
He mentally repeated “She loves my dad” a few times to keep from sniping at her caustic tone. Given his dad’s lack of progress, Hunter thought it was time to seek other opinions. If he wanted to persuade Jenna to consider that, he couldn’t alienate her. Taking a page from Sara’s playbook, he softened his voice.
“There’s so much controversy about Lyme diagnosis and treatment. Maybe we should take Dad east to a specialist or investigate other avenues.” He’d already started that research—lately having read pages and pages of papers online. “Things like MS, lupus, and Epstein-Barr can be misdiagnosed as Lyme and vice versa. Or there could be a coinfection that complicates the diagnosis. His doctors could be wrong, and these treatments could be hurting him or masking something else.”
Jenna closed her eyes like she needed patience to deal with him instead of it being the other way around. “Smart as you are, I don’t see a medical degree hanging on your wall. Besides, your dad’s in no condition to travel, Hunter. His whole body hurts, and he’s exhausted.”
He dragged his hands through his hair. Helplessness clawed at him, making him twitchy. When he noticed his hands had balled into fists, he shook them loose.
“Chill out before you burst a blood vessel.” Gentry stuffed a grape into her mouth. “Mom and I are taking care of Dad. The nurse comes here almost every day. No one but you is freaking out. Dad will be fine in time, just maybe not on your schedule.”
He faced his sister. Sara made a little sound, like she was clearing her throat. He ignored her unsubtle cue, but he measured his words and tone to make his point. “It’s proven that doctors make misdiagnoses every year. Patients need to be their own best advocates. What can it hurt to get another opinion?”
“I’m not putting your dad on a plane.” Jenna retrieved a few bowls from the cabinet and set them near the stove. “He has great doctors right here in Portland. I won’t interrupt this treatment based on your Google degree and your vague feeling that his doctors have screwed up.”
“Let me help, Jenna.” Sara jumped up to get silverware and set the table, while Gentry continued eating grapes like a princess.
Hunter remained on edge, as he’d been for days. So much so, he’d even thought about calling his mom to discuss homeopathic remedies. He was getting nowhere with Jenna or Gentry, so he would go over their heads. “Sara said she didn’t see Dad yesterday. I haven’t seen him in two days. I want to talk to him.”
“Why? So you can upset him with these theories that his current doctors aren’t helping, or do you want to badger him about the business?” Jenna bit out. “He doesn’t need more stress. That will only hurt his immune system.”
“Are you accusing me of something?” He narrowed his eyes, giving up the pretense of getting along or sparing her feelings. Jenna never let up on him, but if she was wise, she wouldn’t push him today.
According to the company bylaws, if the CEO can’t fulfill his duties, the CFO becomes the acting CEO in charge until a new one is appointed. He’d refrained from enforcing that clause because he didn’t want to cause more tension or upset his dad, but if the doctors couldn’t clear his dad for work soon, he’d have to invoke it. CTC needed a leader.
In the periphery, he noticed Sara approaching him. She and his family would pitch a fit if he put that clause in play, but he might not have a choice.
“Hunter, Jenna’s a worried wife looking out for her husband’s best interests. If he needs rest, let’s not push.” She rubbed his back like he was a baby in need of soothing. He shrugged her off. She stiffened, eyebrows raised. If Jenna and Gentry noticed their wordless argument, they didn’t react.
Fortunately, it ended abruptly because his dad shuffled into the kitchen. His ashen face did nothing to ease Hunter’s concern. “Stop the commotion. I’m here and I’m hungry.”
Gentry sprang off her seat and pulled out a chair. “Sit here, Daddy. Mom made soup.”
Daddy? Since when had Gentry reverted to that endearment? And “Mom” hadn’t made anything—Alec had.
Gentry had used a light hand on her makeup application, thrown her hair in a simple ponytail, and worn casual clothing. At first, he figured she was doing so for comfort’s sake, but now he wondered if she wasn’t somehow regressing, seeking some kind of do-over of her childhood now that her parents were finally spending time at home with her.
God, this house made him crazy, but not as crazy as seeing his dad so ill.
“Dad, how are you?” Hunter crossed the kitchen to get a closer look at his dad’s appearance. His pasty face needed a shave, and he remained dressed in that drab old robe. Every painfully slow movement appeared to sap a huge amount of his energy. “Maybe it’s time we see a specialist?”
His dad waved him off before Jenna could rant. “No, son. There’s so much inconsistency when it comes to Lyme. No one knows anything. Let’s stay the course and hope for the best.”
The illogical conclusion only confirmed Hunter’s suspicion about his neurological deterioration.
“Dad—” he started, but Sara cut him off when she squeezed his shoulder.
“Jed, are you enjoying anything about your time off?” She smiled as she deftly steered the conversation into more pleasant territory. “Have you caught any good daytime television or read any good books?”
Hunter had always admired Sara’s desire to keep peace in his family, but today he felt managed. It might be tolerable if he didn’t suspect her motives were personal and self-serving. She’d do anything, including shut down a discussion about his dad’s health care, in order to keep her relationship with Gentry on track. That didn’t sit right. Of course, she’d say he was being selfish by ignoring his dad’s and Jenna’s wishes, which would be bullshit.
Anyone could look at the man and see he hadn’t improved one bit. He might even be worse off than when they released him from the hospital.
“Gentry turned me on to Judge Judy. What a hoot.” His dad chuckled and picked up a spoon as Jenna set a bowl of soup in front of him. He stared at the lumpy golden broth sprinkled with green-and-red oil and topped with some blue-toned ribbons of whatever weird food Alec had selected, then scowled. “What’s this?”
“Some fancy Mexican corn chowder.” Jenna crossed her arms. “Don’t judge it by its appearance. It smells divine.”
His dad poked at the blue stuff with his spoon, then he looked at Sara. “Don’t tell Alec, but I prefer your chicken noodle soup.”
“I can bring more.” She covered his hand with hers, grinning.
Gentry eyed Sara in an oddly assessing manner, then must’ve sensed Hunter staring at her. She raised one brow, challenging him to speak his mind. He flicked his gaze to his wife, who’d been feeling slighted by Gentry, but he kept his mouth shut . . . for about ten seconds. Unlike all the women in the room, he preferred a direct route from A to B, and a straightforward conversation to one that never got to the point. If he didn’t say something, he’d explode.
“How was your doctor visit, sis?” He turned from Sara and caught Gentry’s eye again. “Sara was sorry to miss it.”
“Everything’s normal. No worries. I’ve been following all the rules.”
“Of course you are,” Sara quickly replied. Hunter guessed she was wearing a look that begged him to back off. “Did you get another sonogram picture or learn anything new?”
“Nope. Just a checkup.” Gentry stood and went to the refrigerator, lingering behind its open door, where neither Hunter nor Sara could see her face.
“When’s the next one?” Sara asked, her voice sweet and hopeful.
Gentry closed the refrigerator door, her expression turning bitter. “Sara, I can manage to keep my own appointment schedule. If there’s something to report, I’ll share it.”
“Sorry.” Sara clasped her hands together on the table and chewed the inside of her cheek.
That’s it! Hunter shot from his chair, propelled by his pent-up frustration with the entirety of their family situation. “Don’t snap at Sara. She’s been nothing but kind to this whole family from the first time I brought her home from college. You owe her more respect than that, Gentry.”
“Hunter, it’s fine.” Sara frantically waved her hands to stop an argument from erupting. “She didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just hormones.”
“You’ve been loaded with hormones—literally injected with them—and never snapped at my family.”
“Sorry, Sara,” Gentry said.
Hunter slid a glance to Jenna, who’d been suspiciously quiet. He noticed mother and daughter exchange some kind of wordless glance that spoke volumes, stoking his fears about how Jenna might be interfering with the planned adoption.
That would devastate his wife.
He needed to nail down the plan sooner than later. “While we’re on the topic of the baby, let’s talk about formalizing our arrangement. I’ll pay for your lawyer so it doesn’t cost you anything.”
“Hunter, this can wait.” Sara’s panicked response didn’t help his case.
“Why? We might as well get the ball rolling. Who knows what kinds of things might come up in the next few months? It’s best to have everyone’s rights and obligations spelled out in advance.” He should’ve insisted on this from the start, before they’d started counting on Gentry.
“Don’t feel pressured by Hunter.” Jenna brushed some of Gentry’s stray hair back behind her ear. Possibly the first time he’d ever witnessed a gentle moment between those two. “He can’t force you to do anything.”
Force her? “That’s not what I’m doing. She came to us with this proposal, not the other way around. I’m just trying to finalize the details.” His dad had been the one who taught him to always paper every transaction, so he turned to him for support. “You agree with me, right?”
“If Gentry is absolutely certain of her plans, then yes, I agree.” His dad looked at his youngest child, a bit of sorrow in his eyes.
What was with “if”? She’d promised weeks ago. No one but him probably noticed the way Sara had gone still, her breath caught in her chest. He pinned Gentry with his gaze and swallowed hard. “Has something changed?”
“For God’s sake, Hunter, can’t we ever have one family gathering that doesn’t have an agenda?” Jenna dismissed the topic out of hand, effectively allowing Gentry to avoid the conversation. “I thought you came to visit your father.”
“Gentry—” he began, until Sara interjected.
“Hunter, please. As you yourself said the other day, we have months to prepare for the baby.” She flashed the phony smile she used to mask her anger. Why she was mad at him, he had no clue. He was only trying to secure the thing she most wanted.
His father jumped in, possibly sensing trouble. “Sara, Colby mentioned that you’ve gotten really involved in a local charity supported by her foundation, but I forget what it’s called.”
“The Angel House. I was very involved helping those women and kids get on their feet, but I’m redirecting my time now. Colby could use more support at the foundation.” She squeezed his dad’s hand again. “But did Hunter mention how he helped one of its residents?”
“No.” His dad eyed him with interest. “How so?”
“The shelter home can only accommodate people for about nine months because they want to make sure that other people get help, too. This week, a woman and toddler I’d become attached to had been moved into a miserable section-eight housing apartment. When Hunter saw how upset I was, he signed a short-term lease for them in a better neighborhood. Now, hopefully, they can save some money and get a fresh start without being in a high-crime area.”
“That’s mighty kind.” Jed smiled and leaned closer to Sara. “Something tells me this was your idea.”
“No! It was all his idea.”
For a moment, Hunter saw a glimmer of love in her eyes. Well, at least that was something.
He suspected she mentioned it to make him look like less of a bully in front of Jenna and Gentry. He was damn tired of being viewed as a bully. Bullies did things to make other people feel bad. That was never his motive—at least not with anyone other than Jenna.
He wasn’t a bully. He was a guy who solved problems—who got shit done without letting chaos and emotions overshadow reason and logic. How come no one got that about him? When had he become the bad guy who needed his wife’s brand of PR?
“No big deal.” A wave of emotional exhaustion pushed him onto a seat.
“Like I told you, all mush inside.” Gentry grinned, referring back to the time when she’d called him out on his soft spot for Sara. Wasn’t it ironic that, of all the people in the room, she was the only one who saw that?
“What can I say? I love my wife.” He drummed his hands on the table, uncomfortable being the subject of everyone’s scrutiny. “Have you made any decisions about the consulting idea we discussed?”
“Uh, no. Been kind of preoccupied.” Back to sarcasm, just like her mom.
Thank God Sara and Colby weren’t like those two, who falsely equated posturing with real strength.
“Okay, then.” He turned to his father. “I know you’ve been tired, but how about you let me get you out of here for a bit? We can take a drive down to the lake. Get some ice cream or something?”
“You two go on,” his dad said. “I’m not up to it.”
Defeated, Hunter stood, having been in Jenna’s presence for about as long as he could tolerate. Hugging his dad, he said, “We’ll let you rest, then. Let me know if you need anything, okay?”
“Go enjoy some time with your wife today. I’ve got plenty of people taking care of me.” He smiled at his wife and Gentry.
Hunter detested the envy that slid through him then. If his parents had stayed married, his dad would never have been in Connecticut and gotten bitten by a tick. Jenna wouldn’t have so much influence at CTC or on his dad. She’d ruined everything. Without her around, his dad would’ve been a bigger part of Hunter’s formative years and beyond. Life would’ve been simpler—better—in so many ways.
At least for him and Colby, anyway. Of course, then Gentry wouldn’t be in their lives, and even though she could drive him crazy, he did love her and appreciate the unique perspective she brought to the family dinner table.
“I’ll check in tomorrow.” He reached for Sara.
Normally, when they joined hands, a sense of contentment rippled through him. Today her cool touch did not soothe.
Once at home, Sara followed Hunter into his office. A large picture window afforded a pretty view of the surrounding forest. The massive desk and sleek walnut built-ins, with plenty of shelves, drawers, and nooks, enabled him to maintain a perfectly neat and orderly desk. His laptop sat in the center of the credenza behind that desk.
His space, where order and logic—and an absence of emotion—prevailed. But not for long if she had her way.
The frustration she’d been sitting on in the car bubbled inside like boiling water turning to steam. Right now she didn’t care if it blew and burned them both. “I asked you not to rock the boat with Gentry, then you brought up every uncomfortable topic you could think of.”
Wearing a blasé expression, he pulled out the refrigerator drawer and retrieved a bottle of water. He held it toward her like a damn butler. When she shook her head, he closed the door and cracked the bottle open for himself. “There’s no point in pussyfooting around those issues.”
“No. Better to try to control everyone by running them over like a bulldozer, right?”
“That’s not what I did. For God’s sake, I’m worried that my dad’s been misdiagnosed.” He tossed the cap in the trash and guzzled water. His long frame remained as taut as the tension between them. She watched him swallow; then he peered down his nose at her with those penetrating hazel eyes.
“It’s not what you say, Hunter. It’s how you say it.” She crossed her arms. “You’re not the boss of everyone and everything.”
“Don’t I know it!” He finished the water in another long gulp, then crushed the plastic in his hand. “I’m sick and tired of having to defend myself over and over. All I did today was look out for the people I love—you, my dad, Gentry.”
Honestly? “How exactly did you look out for me?”
“You mean aside from signing a lease for a woman I don’t know and shelling out a few thousand dollars?” He narrowed his gaze, which set her back a step.
She took a breath. He had done that, and she didn’t mean to be ungrateful. Yet once again, he’d used a grand gesture to compensate for the little ways in which he constantly edged her out and neglected—or blatantly ignored—her wishes. Still, it was quite a gesture. Besides, he’d only keep his defenses up if she argued. She relaxed her stance and continued. “You know I appreciate that with all my heart, Hunter, but it’s beside the point.”
“I want my dad to get second and third opinions. That’s for his sake, not mine. I want Gentry to sign some documents so she doesn’t flake out on this adoption. That’s to protect you.”
“I don’t need your protection, just your love and support. We should make decisions together instead of you always taking charge.” Her arms flailed from her sides until she reined them in.
He shook his head, his face tight with frustration. “What. Are. You. Talking. About.”
“I’m talking about how you ignored my wish to have a pleasant visit with your family. How you don’t trust me with your work secrets. How you keep distancing yourself and making me feel like you’re doing this adoption for me instead of with me.”
“Us. You. Me. Why do you always get hung up on the pronoun? Isn’t it all the same thing? We’re married. I see ‘us’ as one, no matter which word I use.”
“Easy to say, but it doesn’t make it true.”
“Stop second-guessing me.”
“I’m not. Look at your actions. If we disagree, you either manage me to go along or you ‘give in’ to shut me up. But we rarely make decisions together anymore.”
He blinked, staring at her in silence, then turned his back and went to the window—fists on his hips—leaving her standing in the middle of the room, waiting.
The moment stretched until she sensed, suddenly, that she’d run to the middle of a frozen pond only to realize that the ice was too thin. As her adrenaline ebbed, she steadied herself by holding on to the edge of his desk.
“Do you still love me?” He’d asked so quietly she almost hadn’t heard him.
“What?”
He turned around, arms now crossed, face a study in agony. “Do you still love me?”
His pain stole her breath. She went to him and placed her hands on his chest. “Of course. Why else would I fight so hard for us?”
He tipped his head and threw her own words back at her. “It doesn’t feel like it.”
“Hunter.” She ran her hands up to his shoulders. “All I ever ask for is more of a partnership. And more of your time.”
He didn’t soften or wrap his arms around her waist or do anything that he typically did when she touched him. “You harp on how I’m too focused on work, as if your focus these past two years hasn’t been almost exclusively on having babies, and now on Gentry’s baby.”
“Our baby.”
He shook his head. “Like it or not, Sara, it’s her baby until she signs off on the adoption. And even then, I’m pretty sure there are laws that give a mom some kind of right of rescission after the birth, just to make sure.”
She pushed away. Sara expected Gentry to have moments of doubt but ultimately believed she knew weeks ago that she’d made a good decision. “When you talk like that, so cold and detached, it makes me feel like you hope Gentry changes her mind.”
“No, but if she’s going to, let’s find out now. I’d rather not get invested—rather you not get more invested—until it’s certain. That’s all I was trying to do today at my dad’s. Hardly sabotage.”
She closed her eyes, unwilling to discuss the possibility that Gentry would renege on her promise. “To the extent I am focused on the baby, it’s for us, for our family. How can you use that as evidence that I don’t love you?”
He threw his arms wide open, but not to seek an embrace. “Maybe you love the idea of us, of a family. Maybe you’re too comfortable or too afraid to change the circumstances, so you’re clinging to the idea of a family like it will fulfill you in some way I don’t. I’m not sure. I just know that you don’t look at me like you used to. You don’t like the way I ‘manage’ things, even though it never used to bother you. You see me as some kind of bully. Nothing I do is right anymore, yet I’m not the one who has changed, Sara.”
His nostrils flared and his breathing had grown heavy, but those eyes never lost focus. He’d trapped her in a smug, self-righteous gaze, daring her to prove him right. To tell him that she didn’t love him. That she’d been too weak to leave.
He was wrong about all of it, though, but too arrogant or guarded to see the truth.
Her own frustration brimmed to the tipping point, and she launched forward and shoved at him with a grunt.
He captured her hands, and they wrestled for a second or two until, somehow, they were face-to-face, his one hand cupping her neck, the other clasping her wrist. Heartbeat to heartbeat, sharing each other’s breath, they were locked together in a tangle of limbs and emotion. Then, shockingly, he kissed her.
Not a gentle kiss. Not even a loving kiss. A fierce, harsh, possessive kiss. His way of reestablishing some kind of control, because God forbid he ever not be in control.
And yet, she didn’t push him away. She didn’t fight that angry kiss. She met it with equal force. Right there in the office that so often took him away from her. She wanted to have sex on every surface, like a brand, so he could never again come in here to hide from her. Everywhere he looked, she wanted him to have a memory of her.
She kissed him, ripping at his shirt. If it surprised him, he didn’t show it. He growled and lifted her onto his desk, yanking her shirt loose, pushing her skirt up, and tossing her panties. He’d barely shoved his own pants down his hips when he entered her, swift and hard.
She cried out as she wrapped her legs around his waist and anchored her arms around his neck, coming in bursts she couldn’t control. He thrust again and again, her name rough on his lips, his fingers marking her ribs. She bit his earlobe and sucked on the curve of his neck beneath, dragging her fingers through his hair.
Anger, love, betrayal, frustration—the cyclone slammed them together and ripped them apart until he cried out and began to shudder, laying her back on the desk as he spent himself.
They lay there, chests heaving. No tender kisses or words. No eye contact.
In fourteen years, they’d never done hate sex, angry sex, or makeup sex, and she didn’t like it. From the way he refused to meet her eyes, she doubted he did, either.
When he stood, his face was flushed. He glanced at her before gently helping her sit upright. “Are you okay?”
She paused. Her heart—her chest—ached, but that wasn’t what he meant. “Yes.”
He nodded and scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’m sorry, anyway.”
“Me too.”
He started to bend down to retrieve his pants, but she caught his hand and kept him there. “Hunter, are you okay?”
“Sure.”
An abrupt and insincere reply, running inward for cover like always. She released his hand. He put his pants on without saying anything, so she found her panties and straightened her own clothes, too.
The discomfort persisted. How had they gotten even further apart than before the argument started? Moments ago she’d been determined to create memories, but not these negative ones.
“Hunter, despite this rough patch—or whatever it is that we’re going through—I do love you. I just miss you.”
He held his hands out, face drained from exhaustion and defeat. “I’m right here, just like I’ve always been.”