Chapter Twenty

“Don’t do this.”

Steps away from the bathroom, a deep voice from the room next to it stopped me in my tracks. My skin tingled at its familiar timbre, my body reacting to his voice like it was a remote made only for my buttons.

Hunter.

“Not now. We’ve been through this.” A deep sigh exploded from him, agitation clipping his tone. “You said you were fine. That I could leave.”

Peeking around the doorway, I looked in to see Hunter sitting on a bed, his elbows on his legs, scrubbing his head.

“Don’t pull this guilt trip on me. I was just there fifteen minutes ago.”

Was he talking to Krista? Was she mad he was at the party?

He was silent, listening to the other person on the line. I knew I should have walked away. I was totally eavesdropping, intruding on his privacy. But my gaze caught on a few things in the room that fastened me in place.

Hunter’s supercross trophies and awards were bunched on the desk. His shoes lay in the open closet, beneath his clothes hanging above.

He had lived with Doug at one time, but it was before Krista. He lived with her now, right?

“I can’t deal with you right now. I will talk to you tomorrow,” he grumbled, then went silent again. “Yeah, I love you too.”

Darts plowed into my chest, draining me of oxygen. My heart cracking into sobs, watering my eyes. Hearing him say those words. To her. Sometimes I was shocked my heart still had feeling left.

I took a step for the bathroom, set on getting behind the door before the agony I felt reached the surface.

“Jayme?” Hunter’s voice skulked up my back, wrapping around my chest in a death squeeze.

“I-I was walking by—I didn’t mean to…”

“Eavesdrop?” Humor hinted in his intonation, and I circled around to face him. Still sitting on the bed, his hands pressed into his thighs, his gaze focused on me. Crap, why did he always have to look so damn good?

“I wasn’t. I mean I was, but that wasn’t my plan,” I bumbled, everything about him always tipping me off center. “You left the door open.”

A hint of a grin loomed over his face. “I wasn’t accusing you of anything.”

Unable to hold his gaze, I stepped back, thumbing over my shoulder. “I’ll just go.”

“Jayme.”

Hearing the way my pet name rolled off his tongue had me forgetting all about the bathroom.

“Look at me.”

No. I can’t.

“Jayme…” He stood up from the bed, the mattress creaking. “Look. At. Me.”

Damn. My breath was shaky as I sucked in, tilting up my chin until my eyes met his. The power he had over me since I woke from my coma trembled my hands. He watched me for a few beats, his expression unreadable.

“You’ve changed,” he said, his gaze studying me. “I mean that in the good way. You seem more confident. Stronger.”

Funny, those were not the two things I felt at this present moment with him. But overall, yes. I knew I had grown.

“Italy was good then?” He rolled back on his heels.

“Yeah. It…” I could never fully grasp the right word for how my experience had altered me. The adventures and life experiences I had there would be with me the rest of my life. “Italy was beyond everything I imagined. Florence and traveling changed me; the internship at the Galleria transformed my life.”

“I’m glad.” He nodded, his eyes dropping to the floor. “You deserve everything.”

My heart twisted in my chest, my own gaze locking on the wall.

“You do too.”

He snorted and then sat back on the bed. “I had it for a moment.”

My feet moved deeper into the room without my consent. I walked over to his trophies, picking one up. “I’m sorry for what you went through. You didn’t deserve that. You already went through so much.”

“Life didn’t seem to think so.”

My fingers traced down an award sitting on his dresser.

“God, when I saw you crash… all those bikes running over you.” I shook my head, the memory still sharp and horrific.

“You saw it happen?” He sat straighter, his eyebrows creasing together. “How?”

“I was at an American sports bar in Florence that was showing it live.” I ran my finger over the engraving. “It was one of the most agonizing things to watch, knowing I was so far from you. I was up all night. Thankfully, Jones kept me updated.”

“Wait.” He shook his head. “You called? You talked to Jones? When?”

A pained smile ghosted my mouth. It was exactly as I thought; Krista kept it from him.

“I talked to Jones when it first happened and when you got out of surgery.” I curved around, perching my bottom on the desk.

“Jones never told me.” His hands rolled into balls.

“It wasn’t Jones I talked to the last time.”

“Krista.” Hunter’s jaw strained, annoyance flickering over his face.

“Don’t be mad at her. She was protecting you and probably did the right thing.” I rubbed at my neck, neither of us able to look at each other. “It was for the best.” For him and maybe me, but the statement still sat on my tongue like a lie. “I know ‘sorry’ doesn’t replace all you lost. Believe me, I know how little that word can mean sometimes, but I am sorry for what happened.”

“Don’t.” His irises flashed. Standing up, he moved away from me.

“What?”

“Pity. The last person I want it from is you.” His hand ran through his hair, ire radiating from him.

“Pity?” I pushed off the desk.

“Yes,” he hissed, throwing out his arms. “You don’t think I don’t know that look by now? Shit, I see it every fucking day. I’m everything people said I would be. The loser my own father expected I’d turn out to be. The shame in my mother’s eyes. You don’t think I hear what people say? See them shake their heads, thinking what a waste I am? That Colton would have done something with his life should have been the one who lived. Because Hunter, the fucked-up twin, at not even twenty, had a blimp of fame that was over before it even started. Never really leaving this town, working at the garage, doing the same shit every weekend, getting high with his friends, with a kid and a baby on the way?” His nose flared. “I thought I hit the bottom after Colton died. But I didn’t. When I lay in the hospital this time, so many bones in my body broken, I realized I had nothing left. No brother, no family, no career, and… no you.”

My chest ballooned, emotion assaulting my heart.

“Do you know how many times I thought of overdosing? Ending it all,” he whispered. “Cody and Krista saved me, brought me back from the brink. They were there every day helping me recover.”

My lids fluttered, staring at the floor. The idea of ever really losing Hunter bowed my legs, gutting me.

“I thought I moved on,” he said hoarsely. “But you fucking come back here.” He scrubbed his forehead, letting silence fill the space. “I don’t know what to do with you, Jayme.”

“I don’t know what to do with you either,” I croaked. Friction webbed the space between us, straining the air with its heavy weight. Raw agony hung like wet laundry between us, dripping down on us. We were both still drawn to each other, but nothing could happen. Our paths parted long ago.

Rubbing my arms, I tried to keep my pain from expressing itself. I gazed at his desk, where an open spiral notebook lay on the opposite side of the trophies, revealing a sketch of a motorcycle drawn on the first page. Curiosity inched me closer, and I touched the pad. Hunter didn’t say anything, but out of the corner of my eye I saw his shoulders tense.

The drawing was gorgeous. Detailed twin dragons, similar to the tattoo on his arm representing him and Colton, curled around the gas tank. It looked like a custom motorcycle people would pay obscene amounts of money to own.

“Hunter, did you do these?” I picked up the book, flipping to the next page. Another bike, but this one looked more like a supercross bike, slightly altered, sleeker. The next page had another style bike with a different two-headed dragon, which was so beautiful I felt like I stepped into a gorgeous dream world. You could feel his heart and soul in each design. Flipping again, a small gasp wedged between my ribs. “Oh my god.”

A solid black raven was inked in mid-flight with intricate feathers shedding from it, growing more detailed the farther they went down the gas tank, like they were flying with you as you rode. My eyes dropped to the exact same tattoo on my arm before lifting to Hunter in complete and utter bewilderment. He designed my tattoo on a bike.

“Just some sketches I was playing around with.” He went to grab the pad from me, but I held on to it.

“These are amazing, Hunter.” I shook my head, peering back down at them in admiration. “Beautiful… You are a true artist.” How did I not know he could draw?

“Like I said, I was playing around.” He took the book from me, shoving it inside his desk.

“Are you kidding me? Those are works of art.” I nodded to the drawer. “Do you know how much someone would pay for one of those?”

“Just sketches, Jayme,” he grumbled.

“You have a gift, Hunter.” I folded my arms, staring at him. “Don’t belittle it. I mean, you could do that. For a living.”

“Do what?”

“Design bikes,” I replied. “Who knows them better than you? How they should feel and how they ride. Adding your artwork to them would only make them incredibly unique and in demand.”

He scoffed, brushing off my idea.

“Why not?” I huffed. “Why couldn’t you do it?”

“Because I need to pay bills and put food on the table for Cody and the baby.”

“And why can’t you do both?” I challenged. “Like Doug wouldn’t let you build during your time off or between customers.”

“Why are you pushing this?”

“Why aren’t you?” I lifted my arms with perplexity. “You complain you’re everything people pegged you for. And yes, right now you are.”

He flinched, his lids narrowing.

“But that’s because you’re letting it happen. Just because one dream ended doesn’t mean that’s it for life, game over. You get other dreams, Hunter.” I pushed at his chest. “And don’t tell me this wouldn’t be a passion. I know art. That’s what I do. I’ve studied with the best for a year. And I can feel and sense the artist in each piece and whether they give their heart and soul to it. Those bikes are your heart. The artwork is your soul.”

He inhaled sharply through his nose, emotion filling his eyes, his jaw rolling.

“You can pretend these are nothing and go on hiding them in a drawer, never acting on it because you are scared… scared to try. What if you fail or something takes it from you again? After what happened, I get it. But you can’t give up.” I shook my head. “I see you. You can’t pretend with me. You have so much to give, and you deserve much more than what you are letting yourself have. You deserve it all, Hunter.”

Hunter’s chest rose and fell, his dimple twitching under the pressure of his clenched jaw.

He lurched forward, his fingers clasping the sides of my face, his mouth crashing down on mine. The moment his lips touched mine, the blood scorched through my veins, blistering desire running through my body. A gasp sucked into my lungs. Fire licked at my body, and I stepped into him, hungrily grasping for what I’d yearned for, for so long. No thoughts reached my mind.

A deep growl emerged from him as his hands dug into my hair, pulling me even closer against him. The shape of his erection pressed into my stomach, filling me with the need to feel him deep inside. Frantic yearning for each other took over. He lifted me and my legs wrapped around his waist, a groan rumbling from him. With just a touch, Hunter had always been able to unleash a monster in me. One I could never control—something that took hold of me and terminated any thoughts or apprehension. I wanted him. I wanted to give into the desperate desire and not think of the consequences.

He tossed me back on the bed, his rough palms skating under my tank top, ripping it over my head. “Fuck.” He crawled between my legs, grinding into me, nipping at my bottom lip. My nails curled into the back of his head, loving the feel of him on top of me, his smell, his taste. I felt like I had been starved for food, for air, for years and greedy to the point of violence to have it again.

“God, Hunter.” My fingers moved to his jeans, tugging frantically at the buttons.

Stop, Jayme! He has a girlfriend and a baby coming. My mind screamed at me, but my body didn’t give a shit, only responding to the need. It felt so good, so right, like nothing else ever did. My hands shoved his jeans down, our gasping breaths filling the room.

“Dude, Hunter. Krista’s looking for you.” Jones’s voice echoed down the hall, freezing us in place.

Krista.

Holy shit. What was I doing?

Reality didn’t just sink in—it smacked the crap out of me. I shoved at Hunter’s chest to move as Jones stepped into the doorway we hadn’t even bothered to close.

“Oh shit.” He half turned, shaking his head. “Sorry, I thought you were alone.”

“What do you want?” Hunter sighed, climbing off me, buttoning his pants. I jumped off the bed, tugging my tank back on so fast the fabric burned my ears.

“Krista’s here, man.” Jones slyly looked back, saw we were both dressed, and turned around again, shaking his head at us. “Glad it was me who came to find you,” Jones snorted. “Fuck, you two. Why am I not surprised?” He twisted to leave, addressing Hunter. “Watch out, man. She’s in one of her ‘hormonal’ moods.”

Jones walked away, and I followed him, needing to get far away from Hunter. He was my quicksand.

“Jaymerson, wait.” He grabbed my elbow.

“No!” I ripped out from his grip. “We need to stay away from each other.”

“Why?” he growled.

“Why?” I burst out laughing, lacking any humor. “Because you have a girlfriend. A family. A baby on the way. A baby, Hunter.” I tried to keep my voice level. “I will not come between that. I’ve learned I will never win.”

Anger flared in his eyes, then he stared at the wall with a nod. “Then go, if that’s what you think. And here I thought you were different.”

What did that mean?

I hesitated, bouncing on my toes before forcing myself to leave the room.

“Funny, you claim you see me.” His voice stopped me. “Yet you’re so damn blind, Jaymerson.”

The space between my brows throbbed as I continued my retreat, on a mission to find Stevie and get the hell out of there.

 

 

“Oh, thank god.” Stevie lunged for me when I came back outside, looping her arm through mine. “I was about to scale a fence or tunnel my way out of here. What the hell is going on tonight? Is it a full moon?” Her eyes darted around in alarm. “It’s like the worst horror version of ex-fuckbuddies passed out here. Seriously… I stood in the corner pretending I was a fern for the last hour.”

I hadn’t been gone an hour, but to her it probably felt like that. I could see why she was unsettled. Pocahontas, Mulan, Tarzan, Sleeping Beauty, and Tinker Bell all stood around the party like bombs. Half of them hated her, the other half were on her stalker list.

“Let’s get out of here.”

“Best thing you said all night, Whiskey.” She and I marched through the house, getting to the front porch. The need to end this bizarre night increased with every minute. “It’s official. I’ve done everyone eligible in this town. Time to go back to New York.”

As Stevie continued to mumble, stomping toward the jeep, I spotted a couple in the shadows, the girl’s blonde hair slowing my pace, my consciousness flicking with familiarity. Their voices were too low to hear exact words, but by the pitch I could tell it was a heated argument. I could see the back of the girl motion her arms with irritation. She tried to step away, but the outline of a guy, taller than her, grabbed her hands. She stepped away far enough from the tree for me to see her. To recognize the baby bump.

Krista.

My heart thudded in my ears, straining to hear them, trying to find Hunter’s shape in the form partially masked by the tree. The shoulders and height weren’t meshing with Hunter’s form, but who else would it have been?

I watched her head shake, a sob finding its way to my ear.

“I can’t…” Krista’s voice sounded defeated. Heartbroken. She turned, breaking from his grip and jogging for the house.

The guy swore, his voice too low to recognize, his fist hitting the tree.

“Whiskey, come on!” Stevie yelled from the passenger seat, jolting me back to her. The guy’s head swung toward me.

I strode for the car and hopped in. I pulled away from the curb and took one final glance at the figure. It was probably the light from the porch, but I could have sworn I saw blond hair. But honestly, this whole night was straight out of The X-Files.

“Ummm, Whiskey?” Stevie tilted her head to me. “Why do you have beard burn and what looks like a hickey on your neck?”

“Let’s just say Alice fell down a hole she shouldn’t have.”

“Damn those holes.” Stevie clicked her tongue, winking suggestively. “They trap me every time.”