Hunter
Unbelievable.
I’ve just had the best sex of my life, with the woman who makes me feel ways I haven’t felt in years.
And now this.
Betrayal.
“I’m sorry, Hunter. I really am. I wanted to tell you, I was going to tell you at dinner, it’s just we didn’t make it to dinner.”
“Were you really? I don’t believe you.”
“I’ve already talked to Jack. I feel terrible. He’s never done anything like this before. His friend Mason told him to make fun of Harry because of his name, to call him hairy gorilla. Apparently Mason said he wouldn’t be his friend unless he did that.”
“So?”
“So you’re right. It’s no excuse and I’ve told Jack how what he did was wrong.” Penny’s lips inadvertently pout as she finishes her sentence.
Ignoring their lure, I stride back into the kitchen.
“The point is, you didn’t tell me. I asked you if you knew Jack.”
“And then we got interrupted,” she says, rushing after me.
I knew she was too good to be true. I retrieve my T-shirt, and pull it over my head. Turning on my heels, I strike back in the direction of the front door.
“Wait, Hunter, don’t leave like this.”
I bite my lip to swallow the anger. I turn to tell her how I’m feeling again, but she’s nowhere in sight. Grabbing the door handle, I pause, thinking back of how amazing the day has been up until this point.
Having my dick in her was like being home. It calmed me. Part of me is drawn to stay. But the other half thinks of my son and how she lied to me about his bully.
I open the door, and the fresh air clears my head. Relationships can’t be started with a lie. I step over the welcome mat, and pull the door shut behind me.
Fishing in my pocket, I pull out my car key and click the unlock button. I open the door to my Porsche, flinging it wide in frustration.
“Wait!” Penny calls as the front door opens.
She sprints down the front steps into my car, her hair still disheveled from our earlier activities.
She’s carrying something in her hand, but staring directly at me instead of watching where she’s going. Her foot clips the edge of a skateboard, and she goes toppling onto her front. She puts her hands out to protect herself. Whatever she was carrying goes flying through the air.
It’s a bad spill, and I instinctively rush to her side.
“Are you okay?” I ask, helping her to her feet.
Her cheeks blaze red, and she rubs her palms. “I wanted to show you something. Something that Jack made,” Penny blurts.
A heaving sigh leaves my chest. All I care about now is that she isn’t hurt. I take her hand, and pick out the pebbles that are stuck in her palm.
“Please don’t go,” she whispers.
I’m holding her hand in mine, and I long to kiss it better, the way I kiss Harry better when he’s hurt.
My eyes sweep over her, and our gaze connects. The familiar jolt of electricity shocks me, as it does every time I look at her.
Something is different about her.
“I talked to Jack about how he made Harry feel, and how you should never make anyone feel bad. He understands now, and he made that for Harry,” Penny says, pointing to what she had been carrying.
Leaning down, I pick up the heavy paper. It’s a painting of two boys playing together. At the bottom, in the uneven letters of a first grader is the word sorry. There’s a yellow medal on one of the boys.
As if she’s reading my mind, Penny points to the medal and says, “That’s a welcome medal, for the best new boy in school. A boy so ‘nice and kind that everyone wants to be his friend.’ At least that’s how Jack described him.”
I stare at the painting in my hands. Penny really was telling the truth about how she’d talked to him. My heart swells, relieved that this whole bullying issue seems to be ending.
Nothing in the world matters more to me than Harry.
Penny finishes picking the little stones out of the palms of her hands, flicking each one back onto the driveway in a nervous tic.
“He’d like to apologize in person to Harry, and to give him one of his most special toys to show how sorry he is.”
“I’ll have to ask Harry. He might not want to talk to him.”
“Of course, whatever Harry wants,” she says, a broad smile forming across her face.
“I’m sure it will be okay. You know, kids.”
“They make mistakes. Just like adults. Sorry I didn’t tell you Jack was my son right away.”
I drop the painting to my side, and draw her tight against me with my free hand and press my lips against hers.