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Hunter smirks. “He’s fine. Went right down once I put him in the crib. Whatever you did, it took all the crankiness right out of him. Slept until dawn with no crying. Which was good for me, too; I got a full eight hours right beside him.”
I blink. “Right beside him? Why not in bed?”
“No bed in this house. There’s the couch the previous owners left behind and the crib I got for Charlie at the secondhand store.”
My cheeks get warm. I just spent the night in Hunter’s bed, in a manner of speaking. Though I would’ve preferred if it were an actual bed, and he was in it, too. “I’m sorry for taking your bed, and sorry you had to sleep on the floor.”
“It isn’t the worst place I’ve slept. Though, I’ll grant you, there were moments I eyed that couch and thought about getting on and finding myself some space.” His voice trails off for a moment while his eyes settle on me. Was he suggesting what I think he was suggesting? “With everything they took from this place before they moved out, I wonder why the hell the owners didn’t take such a damn fine couch with them?”
“It is a little broken,” I say. It creaks and shifts as I stand. “Not that it’s a bad thing. Sometimes the best things are a little broken.”
He smiles at me for a split second. “A few scars to show you’ve lived a little, huh?”
“Maybe.” I want to smile back, but I think of my scar. My tall, angry, walking, talking scar that seems to grow deeper and angrier every time I see it. I wish I hadn’t brought it up; until Jay entered my mind, I felt like I was finally getting a peek at the real man that Hunter is. Like maybe, with a little more time and a little less crazy ex-boyfriend on the brain, I could get to know him.
Hunter’s eyes soften as they catch the flicker of sadness crossing my face. “Hey,” he says gently, setting a steaming mug of coffee on the table in front of me, “is there something on your mind?”
I shake my head, trying to brush away the thoughts of Jay that are clouding my morning. “No, it’s just... bad memories.”
Hunter nods, as if he understands without needing more details. His smile cools, and his eyes darken. “We all have those.”
He moves around the kitchen with a kind of efficiency that comes from routine; this place is bare, but Hunter seems to make it work.
I take a sip of the coffee and immediately feel its warmth spread through me, waking me up fully.
“Thank you,” I say, meaning more than just for the drink. There are unspoken words hanging between us, but neither of us pushes.
Charlie wakes up with a small cry from the crib in the room's corner. I get up to go to him, but Hunter stops me with a gentle hand on my arm.
“I’ve got him,” he says.
I watch as he lifts Charlie carefully, cradling him like something precious and fragile. It’s so different than I’ve seen him hold him before. The tenderness in his movements makes my heart ache in a way I didn’t expect.
Then my eyes go wide. “You didn’t duct tape his diaper on?”
“Not this one. Took a few tries, including one where it wound up on his head, which I still don’t know how that happened, but I got it. You can learn anything on the internet nowadays. Though the best damn — dang, sorry, little man, I’ll try to be better,” he pauses and rocks Charlie a second. “The best video I could find didn’t have a baby in it. Just two grown men, diapers, and some strange baby talk.”
The way he looks down at Charlie melts me. “You watched a porno video of two guys playing baby and daddy just to learn how to properly do his diaper? Why?”
“First, I’m going to ask you to moderate your language a bit around Charlie. He’s a little too young for that kind of talk. Maybe in a few months, but not now,” he says. “Second, learning how to do his diaper is the least I can do. You do a lot for me and for Charlie, but it shouldn’t all be on your shoulders.”
“The stuff you had to do for the MC… was it dangerous? I’ve heard rumors about them.”
He chuckles and smiles in a way that makes my stomach clench. “Dangerous? No. Crazy? Yes. You want to know what I spent my day doing? Welding.”
“Welding?” I blink, surprised. That doesn’t fit with any of the rumors I’ve heard about the MC. Not unless he was welding guns, but then, I know nothing about welding, except that it uses fire… or something… to stick metal together… maybe?
“We built something. It didn’t turn out right — not because of my welding, but for other reasons — and then we took it apart. That’s it.”
“That’s it?” A bunch of guys playing with power tools and fire… Wait, why am I surprised by that? “Nothing dangerous?”
“Nothing dangerous. The whole point of coming here is that I want to keep Charlie away from danger. I want him to have a safe, stable life in Ironwood Falls. So you have nothing to worry about, Emily.” It may be my imagination, or my sleep-fogged brain, but his smile seems a little more forced. I don’t think Hunter would lie to me, so maybe the welding work was a little more involved than he’s letting on and he doesn’t want me to worry. It is a bunch of men playing with fire, and I doubt everything was up to OSHA standards. That’s got to be it, I tell myself. “But we’re missing the whole point: I want to thank you for everything you’ve done for me. So I started by making breakfast. Come on, I think it’s almost ready.”
That perks me up, and before I realize it, I’m standing with a smile on my face. The closest I’ve ever come to having a partner cook for me was when Jay once reheated leftovers in the microwave, gave it to me, and said, ‘You’re welcome.’ They were leftovers from a dinner I had made the night before.
And they were cold in the middle and as hot as the surface of the sun on the outside.
Salivating, I follow Hunter into the kitchen. Bowls and plates, pots and pans, litter the counters. Just as we enter the room, the oven timer dings and he pulls a tray out that is loaded with golden brown biscuits. Those he sets down on the counter next to a plate laden with crispy bacon, and beside that is another plate with fried eggs with golden yolks that look ready to burst.
