“I know Marchant and you are looking into this on your own. He doesn’t mind me telling you, he mentioned it during one of his sessions. I know you don’t like that I moved to Nevada, and I know you don’t like me knowing so much about your past. But I’m on your side, Hunter. I always was.”
I hear what sounds like a small noise from Dr. Bernard, and through the crack between the doors I can see Hunter’s arms around her shoulders.
“Thank you, Libby.” His voice is low and sounds like it’s coming from the back of his throat, and suddenly I understand the subtext here: Back in New Orleans, Dr. Bernard was Hunter’s shrink, too. Which is why she wants to help him now.
With questions spinning in my mind and an ache in my chest, I hurry toward the stairs.
I’M IN THE bedroom Hunter loaned me, sipping a chilled latte I got from the refrigerator, when I hear footsteps coming down the hall. I’ve spent the last thirty or so minutes thinking over what Dr. Bernard said. Thinking about what Dr. Bernard knows. Thinking about how it all applies to Hunter. The truth is, I know so little I really can’t even speculate. All I know for sure is that Hunter’s in a mess.
I sigh and allow my mind to chew on other, more personal details. Like how his mother was an escort. Rita, the woman I thought was his mother, is thought to have died of cancer when Hunter was fourteen, but based on the conversation he had with his father, it sounds like there was more to it than that. I can’t bring myself to believe that Hunter would have deliberately hurt the woman; he looked appalled when I asked him if he’d killed Sarabelle. But maybe, if she was in the habit of hitting him, he hit her back and…I don’t know…an accident happened.
I hear him turn the doorknob and my stomach twists. He strides into the room with his usual commanding energy, and as usual, I can’t breathe for half a second. He’s so handsome. It’s not just his high cheekbones or his beautiful, long-lashed cat eyes, or his soft, firm lips, or his messy, tug-able golden hair. It’s the way he moves. The sound of his voice. Which, right now, is low and rough.
“How you doing up here?”
I try to look nonchalant. “I’m good. How about you?”
He lifts a shoulder. “Just got a visit from an old friend.”
I smile. “Ohhh, yeah.” I waggle my brows. “I talked to her at the ranch. She was really nice.”
I’m surprised when he grins. “I thought you might say that. You know, when we first met, you reminded me of her.”
I can barely contain my own grin. I love that I remind him of someone who cares about him. “Oh yeah?”
“Yep. You’re both...just really nice.”
“I think you’re the nice one, Mr. Southern Gentleman.” I hold my hand out and he takes it, stepping up to the bed, where I’m sitting cross-legged. His other hand curls around a piece of my hair.
“You think I’m a gentleman?” He smirks, then kisses me soft and slow. His eyes looked glazed when he pulls away.
“I want a rain check,” I murmur.
“Isn’t that my line?”
I stroke my finger down his chest. “You deserve to get what you paid for.”
I’m surprised when he pulls me close again. His arms close hard and firm around my back, and he buries his face in my hair. “I already got it. And more.”
He holds me for the longest time, and I hold him.
“I wish things weren’t like this,” I whisper.
After I say it, my heart pounds. I’ve never been so open with anyone, and if Hunter sees me as nothing but a bed buddy, I think my heart will break in two. I’m holding my breath when he says, “So do I.”
“Will you call me sometime soon?” I murmur.
“As soon as I can.”
He’s still got one arm around my back; the other hand is smoothing my hair off my forehead.
“I could stay here with you,” I say. “I don’t mind if you’re busy getting everything sorted out.”
He slowly shakes his head. Before I can argue, he brings a finger to my lips. Then his mouth meets mine for a kiss so soft it makes me shiver.
“I’m going to miss you,” he says softly.
“I’ll miss you, too.”
Half an hour later, I’m gone.
Chapter 30
Elizabeth
“SERIOUSLY, LIZZY. YOU just can’t make this stuff up.” Suri looks at me from behind the wheel of her lavender Land Rover. We’re driving on the lonely, two-lane roads between Crestwood Place and Napa Valley Involved Rehab, and I’ve just finished a censored version of my Hunter story.
Suri doesn’t know all the heavy details, and she probably never will, which kind of sucks, because I don’t think she has any clue how ripped up I am over leaving Hunter.