Emerson
My phone vibrates and I dive for it, not even trying to be surreptitious as I check it in the middle of what is the most important meeting of my career to date.
It doesn’t seem to bother Shawn, though, who just looks at me with sympathy as he says, “Give him a little time. He’s got a lot on his plate right now.”
“I know. It’s just I want to…” What? What exactly do I want? I can’t help Hunter right now. No one can. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to try, doesn’t mean I don’t want to be there for him if he needs me.
“Yeah.” He gives me a sympathetic smile. “Me, too. Hunter’s great at sharing the glory, always has been. But when it comes to the rough stuff? He takes that all on him and doesn’t share it with anybody.”
“Yeah, I’m getting that,” I say with a sigh. “But it sucks.”
“Fuck, yeah, it does. You know how guilty I feel when he takes the blame for some incomplete pass that I know is my fault?” He pauses for a second, takes a drink from the glass of water in front of him. “Almost as bad as I feel sitting here, not able to help him at
all.”
It’s strange to be talking like this to a man I barely know—especially when we should be talking about the houses I found that I want Shawn to check out. But there’s time enough for that when the coffee is done. Besides, Shawn isn’t just any client. The only reason he’s my client at all is because he’s such good friends with Hunter. He’s known him way longer, and way better, than I do and right now that’s important considering I’m trying to find out exactly what’s going on in Hunter’s head.
I haven’t heard from him in two days. Which, okay, his sister is very sick. I get that he’s got bigger, more important things to worry about than answering one of the texts I’ve sent to check on him.
Yet this doesn’t feel like busy. This doesn’t feel like he just hasn’t had a chance to answer—partly because if he’s just sitting around Heather’s hospital room how hard is it for him to fire off a text? And partly because my gut says something is up.
Which brings me back to why I’m sitting here pumping Shawn for information. Because I’m terrified Hunter is in a dark place, one where he won’t—or can’t—let me help him.
“What can I do?” I ask after a second.
Shawn looks at me for long moments, his eyes searching mine for God only knows what. He must find it, though, because he says, “Go to the hospital, get in his face. Make him talk to you.”
“That doesn’t seem…I don’t know, rude, to you? I don’t want to intrude—”
“Yeah, well, maybe you need to intrude. I stopped by last night. The guy looks like a freaking zombie. I couldn’t reach him, but maybe you can.”
“The zombie thing. You didn’t say that before,” I tell him. “I just asked you how he was—”
“Yeah, well, I hadn’t decided on you yet. Now I have.”
I start to ask him what made him change his mind, but the truth is, I don’t care. Not right now, when the need to go to Hunter, to see him, hold him, touch him, is so much stronger than it was even just a few minutes ago.
But there’s still a problem. “I don’t even know which hospital Heather is in.”
“She’s at UCSD’s cancer center in La Jolla. The ICU.”
My phone buzzes again, and again I jump. Shawn just shakes his head. “Go.”
“But our meeting—”
“It can wait,” he says. “The houses will be there tomorrow, or the next day.”
I think about it, but I feel like the last thing Hunter needs right now is me dropping in unannounced. Yes, he’s dodging me and yes, I want to make sure he’s okay. But the least I can do is give him a heads-up before descending on the hospital like a crazy stalker. Just because we spent the night together, just because I’m driving his truck right now, doesn’t mean he thinks of me the way I think of him. It sure as hell doesn’t mean he loves me.
Not that I blame him. With everything he’s going through right now, I’m sure it’s pretty damn difficult to think about loving someone new. Especially when he’s about to lose the person he’s loved most and longest.
“I’ll text him,” I tell Shawn. “Let him know that I’m going to drop by later. That way, if he doesn’t want me to, he has plenty of time to let me know.”
Shawn rolls his eyes. “Chicks are so weird.”
“If we are, it’s because guys made us this way with all your weird boundaries and issues.” I gesture to his empty coffee cup. “Do you want another flat white?”
“Nah, I’m good.”