Twenty-Eight

I woke abruptly the next morning at five. Hunter was sacked out beside me and grumbled in his sleep when I moved. I had a moment of not being able to breathe, like something was pressing against me.

I’d expected a panic attack. I’d had more than I could count in my lifetime. I knew I had some anti-anxiety meds somewhere, but they weren’t going to do any good at this point, since they took a while to build up in your system. Anything else I could have taken would have made me looped out. So I just stayed where I was, focusing on Hunter’s arms and the fact that no, I was not, in fact, dying.

I stared at Hunter. His eyes jumped behind his eyelids. For a guy, he had really thick eyelashes. He looked so sweet when he slept, as long as he wasn’t having a nightmare. Every now and then, if he was sleeping really deeply, he’d snore a little.

My love for him settled over me like a blanket fresh from the dryer on a chilly winter night. The tight feeling went away as I stepped into our bubble. It was harder this time, but I somehow got there. Hunter frowned in his sleep and muttered something.

I kissed his nose and lay back down, turning my head so I could look at him. He was pretty damn swell.

I started freaking out again when Hunter tried to make me eat some dry toast and ginger ale.

“I’m not going to force you, but you’re going to regret it if you don’t.” I’d never seen him so stern, so I munched a few bites of toast and drank some of the ginger ale. Darah, Mase and Renee all hugged me and wished me well as they went off to their classes and such for the day. Paul had a cold, so he’d stayed at his place for the night, but he texted me and so did Megan.

If I wouldn’t have been so stressed, my heart would have warmed at all the people who were supporting me.

I’d lost the battle to drive, so Hunter was also skipping classes to drive me. I hadn’t fought hard on that one. The parole board might make their decision right after the hearing, so I probably wouldn’t be in any shape to drive back to campus in any case.

The hearing was scheduled for ten, but I was ready to go at eight-thirty. Hunter got out his guitar and let me make requests, switching from one song to the other, even in the middle. It was a weird mash-up, kind of like flipping radio stations. It amused me for some of the time, but when my legs started twitching so much I couldn’t sit down, Hunter grabbed our coats and pushed me outside for a walk across campus. He’d also suggested doing some more blow paintings, but I couldn’t sit still long enough to even get the stuff set up. I’d probably just end up using all black and making a huge mess anyway.

The leaves were starting to blush from green to orange and red and yellow. I loved campus in the fall. Even the air tasted better in the fall. We walked slowly, and he kept kicking pinecones in my way so I could crunch them under my feet.

Hunter was uncharacteristically silent during our walk, which was both helpful and not helpful. On the one hand, he wasn’t chattering at me like some people would have, trying to fill my head with crap so I wouldn’t think about other crap, but on the other, I could only focus on the bad crap without his voice distracting me.

We passed other students on their way to and from class and dorms and work and sports practices. Their lives seemed so simple. Not for the first time, I wished I could jump into someone else’s life. Or maybe at least I could have multiple personalities, so at least I could pretend I was having another life.

“What are you thinking about?” I asked Hunter.

“You.”

“What about me?”

“Specifically? That look on your face when you wake up in the morning and see that I’m next to you. It’s my second favorite after that look when I make you come.”

“Hunter!” I smacked him and glanced around to make sure no one had overheard.

“Baby, no one is paying attention to anyone but themselves. I could throw you down right here right now and most people would just walk right by. You wanna give it a shot? I can prove it to you.” He gave me that smirk that I hadn’t seen in several hours. It made me feel warm inside.

“I don’t want to get arrested for public fornication, thank you very much. I’ve had too much time in a courtroom to last me a lifetime.”

“I’m sorry. I was trying to avoid making you think about that.”

“Hunter, everything makes me think about that.”

“You wouldn’t be thinking about it if we were hay rolling, I bet.”

“Probably not. I don’t really think about much of anything when we’re doing that.”

“That is my goal.”

“You’re very good at it.”

“Why thank you, Missy.”

We walked some more until we had to turn back.

“Do you have everything?” Hunter said as I packed my purse. I had my statement, along with at least five copies stashed in various pockets so I’d have a back-up. Hunter also had several copies stashed in his pockets. He’d picked out the pencil skirt and cappuccino-colored sweater and boots I was wearing. He dressed nice as well — a show of solidarity.

“Here,” he said, handing me his iPod when we got into his car. “Go to Missy’s playlist.” I plugged the player into his speakers and hit play.

Honey, Come Home filled the car, but it wasn’t The Head and the Heart singing. It was Hunter. The sound quality wasn’t great, but I didn’t care. I sat still and silent as I heard his voice cradle the song. When it ended, he paused the playlist.

“Is that what you’ve been doing when you’re supposed to be working?”

“Partly. There’s a recording studio in Bangor that rents out by the hour. It’s something I’ve wanted to do for a while, but I finally found a reason to do it.”

I reached for his hand and kissed the back of it. Words couldn’t really express how I felt.

“So you want to hear more?”

“How much more is there?”

“Plenty. I picked songs that made me think of you.”

“Uh oh.” I imagined all the possibilities, shuddering.

“Hit play and find out,” he said, his voice daring me. I accepted that challenge.

The second song was I Won’t Give Up by Jason Mraz, followed by She’s So Mean by Matchbox 20. That one made me laugh. The rest of the songs were an eclectic mix: some pop, some country, some folk. From Rhianna’s Umbrella to Tip of My Tongue by The Civil Wars to Ours by Taylor Swift.

“This is the last song,” he said as he turned onto the Waterville exit.

It was the song he’d written for me. He’d slowed it down and changed some of the lyrics so they were sweeter. The song ended as he pulled into the courthouse parking lot. What timing. The playlist didn’t end, and Hunter’s voice came on, minus the guitar.

“I love you, Missy girl. Even if I can’t be with you, know that I’m here. So, that’s it. More than the stars, Taylor. More than the stars.”

“More than the stars,” I said, leaning over and giving him a kiss.

It was time to face the darkness.