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“Hey…” Hunter turns toward me, his face close to mine, his voice soft.
There’s a hesitant touch to my cheek, warm and gentle, as he wipes at my tears. His touch is so sudden and intimate, so longed for deep inside of me, that I lean into him.
“We’re all just faking it. More for the benefit of others than for ourselves. Some of us with more success than others. None of us know what we’re doing, Bee,” Hunter says, but it’s at that last word, his term of endearment for me, that I finally crack open and let go as I slide my hand to his chest and let him wrap me in his arms.
14
HUNTER
This… I let my body relax and sink back into the deck chair, pulling her close. I feel her breathing against me, through the layers of her jacket and my own hoodie. Her body is quivering with tears. I let her be, wishing I can wash away the hurt for her, let her drain it into me. I’ve long ago learned how to deal with mine—row it out, ignore it and instead focus on my siblings who needed the comfort of an older brother who held things together. Faking it. Stability, being strong, always being there for them. If you focus on others, help others, it doesn’t take your own pain away, but it minimizes it so you can deal with it in digestible chunks.
Her hair tickles my neck and jaw, and I soothe it down with a gentle caress, stopping short of pressing my lips to her forehead. My fingers burrow into the loose strands and I massage her neck, right there where her stress sits tight. She breathes slower, but from the rest of her body, I know she isn’t done letting it all out yet. Who knows how much Beth has been carrying in her, how deep her sorrow has taken root.
I was an idiot. I should have gone to San Francisco, even if only to see her once. To say the face-to-face goodbye we never said. To be honest, this girl—this woman—never left. Physically yes, but she never left my heart. There have been other women, but none of them could fill the void she’d left in my heart and soul.
Beth’s hand shifts and she sighs, snuggling deeper into my shoulder. With her palm resting on my chest, she must surely feel the erratic beat of my heart, and when her fingers stroke up, my breath catches. I force myself to breathe normally. She’s touching my collarbone now, her fingertips soft and inquisitive.
I trap her hand with mine, stilling it. This is going places neither of us is ready for—physically I’m already there but mentally it would be cruel to both of us. As for my heart, I doubt I can have her and lose her again. I won’t survive watching her walk away.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, but doesn’t move or make to slip out of my embrace.
Her umbrella apology could be for so many things, least of all for having a breakdown in front of me, so I press her close in a side hug. “There’s nothing to be sorry about.”
For a long moment we stay put, quiet and at the weirdest peace I’ve felt in years. If we only have this, I’ll probably be able to finally move on.
“You know what the quick cure for all of this is?” I eventually ask into the dark.
“Don’t say ice cream,” she mutters into my shoulder.
“Ice cream,” I whisper against her forehead, letting my smiling lips slide along her hairline, but not pressing into something more. I need to get away from her body. She’s exhausted and I need to get her to bed.
She laughs and finally pushes away from my chest and sits. “You know Jessie, this rental’s property manager, put two pints of your ice cream in my fridge. I haven’t tried them yet.”
“She did? Good promotion for our product. Thank you, Jessie.” I lower my feet to the deck and turn my back to Beth, hiding my erection that has filled my jeans. Thank God it’s dark because… Fuck it. Down boy. “Let me go see what she’s stocked you up with. You stay put.”
I take my time to enter her cottage and swipe my glance over the interior. May’s hand is evident in the decor, but this is what people love when they come to Vermont. Cozy homeyness. I open the freezer compartment and stare back at the pints of Nutticrust and Strawberry Shortcake I’d snuck into the fridge on the day Jessie arrived early to obviously prepare the cottage for someone’s arrival.
Beth needed to see, needed to be reminded, to taste what has become of our experiment all those summers ago when we first got together. When you can’t afford to buy ice cream for six younger siblings… well, you go off and make your own.
Spoons and pints in hand, I return to the deck, feeling in control of my body and mind again. Beth has cuddled deeper into the blanket and I settle next to her, zipping up my hoodie. Everything about this situation has kept me warm, but we’re about to indulge in cold goodness.
“This is our latest release. Nutticrust.” I rip open the lid and peel off the plastic seal. “Lucy’s hand is in the crusty part. It’s her cookie recipe mixed with caramel and nuts.”
“Lucy? Where is your youngest cousin nowadays?”
“Paris. She’s at a culinary school there and loving every minute of it.”
“Paris of all places… did she get a scholarship or something? Does she even speak French?”
“She does now,” I say with a chuckle as I spoon out the Nutticrust and hold it out to her, skirting round the issue of college finances. Paying for my youngest cousin’s dream isn’t something I feel the need to discuss with anybody. “Lucy is already repaying her student debt with this. Taste.”
Beth takes the spoon from me and tastes the small scoop with a tentative lick before pushing the whole thing into her mouth. I watch as she savors the mouthful, hearing her crunch into the nut clusters that by culinary engineering stay crisp, while the caramel melts over your tongue, smooth and rich like butter. At some point she closes her eyes and moans, and I can’t help visualizing her moan just like that, filled up with and trapped underneath me.
For fuck’s sake. So not helping. I look away and exhale softly.
“That’s probably the most delicious thing I’ve ever had.”
“Yeah?” I’m fucked. “Try the strawberry shortcake. It used to be your favorite.”
