Page 56 of Something Like Sunflowers

And in a matter of seconds, she whips her head back toward me, lifts her chin to the sky, and breaks my heart into a million pieces with two simple words.

“Ellie Isaac.”

Chapter 21

Hunter

Eleven Years Ago

What about Clementine?” I ask, biting back a smile. Dev has turned down all thirty-seven of my girl name ideas, and six of them have been fruits, just to mess with her.

“For the last time, Hunter, we are not naming our baby a fruit. Just look how Lemon Perkins turned out.” She wrinkles her nose at me through her reflection in the floor-length mirror of her bedroom, covered in peeling pink flower stickers I helped her put there over a decade ago. She always was destined to be my girl.

Both my girls, soon.

I stand, moving behind my pregnant girlfriend and wrapping my arms around her. My hands cradle her swollen belly, my lips pressing soft kisses behind her ear. She sighs, relaxing and leaning her weight against me, just like I want her to.

“You’re so damn perfect, Dev. Holding my daughter inside of you. All swollen and full. You’re irresistible.” I guide her to the bed, lowering her onto her back and leaving a trail of kisses across her stomach.

“Hunter,” she moans, threading her fingers through my hair, and that alone thrills me. I want to make her feel good. She’s having so many sick days lately, and my girl’s been a badass, putting on a face so nobody knows our secret. Carrying on like she isn’t superwoman in disguise, growing a human, winning pageants, going to school like a normal teen.

It worries me she’s got too much going on.

We’re interrupted by thumping feet running up the stairs and a loud knock, followed by a hushed whisper from Dusty through the door, “It better be PG in there. Mom’s on her way up!”

“Great,” she says, groaning as she rolls onto her side.

“Hold on,” I say, getting to my feet and helping her to a seated position on the bed. Luckily, we still have our clothes on, except for Dev’s baggy sweater, which she pulls rapidly down over her baby bump just before her mom comes waltzing in with no knock or notice at all.

I owe one to Dusty for his warning.

“What are you two doing in here?” Mrs. Campbell teases, eyeing the two of us with a smirk that is fuckin’ fake as shit because she’s trying to be the cool mom who seems like she doesn’t care if we were just fooling around, but she’s such a crazy bitch that her own daughter is seven and a half months pregnant and so afraid to tell her that she’s been wearing extra-large hoodies for the last month and she has yet to notice. I mean, how fucked in the head can you be to not notice your own daughter is about to have a whole-ass child?

I wish we could tell her. I’ve been part of this family for longer than I feel like I’ve been a part of my own. That might be an exaggeration, but there’s some truth to it. I never had a mom growing up. She died giving birth to my brother Sam, and shit…I’m just lucky I had her for the first few formative years of my development. Because Sam? He’s got shit to work through. I hardly recognize him these days.

The Campbells have practically raised me. My old man’s been in and out of jail most of my life. Technically, Aunt Sarah has custody of me and Sam, but I don’t think he stays there any more than I do. I have a bed in Dusty’s room, for fuck’s sake. Sam has a few friends he splits time between. Parents don’t question the constant sleepovers as much when you’re Sam’s age, but when you’re seventeen or eighteen like me… they just start to feel sorry for you. At least, the Campbells did. Even if Devyn and Dusty’s mom is a complete lunatic, she’s always served me the same shitty spaghetti and Cheerios she gives her own kids.

Their dad’s not too bad, when he’s around.

Doesn’t excuse the anger I feel when I look into the green eyes of her mother. Eyes that dare to look almost identical to Devyn’s, but different at the same time. Darker. Blacker. Like they’ve lost all their sparkle. And that makes me sad for her.

I focus on Dev, tugging her shirt down over her belly to hide any signs of our growing baby from her mother. Just a little longer, babygirl. We only have to hide a little longer. Her mom has always made her feel fat and ugly. A naked, plastic doll nobody could ever love unless it’s dressed up and made up. Flawless. Pinching her love handles, making off-handed comments about too many cupcakes or slices of pizza that everyone else eats triple of.

My jaw clenches. I can’t wait to take her away from it all. To our little farmhouse.

Just me, my farm, and my girls.

And I’ll never let them lose their sparkle. Not in a million years.

“What do you think, honey?” Mrs. Campbell says to me, her eyebrows raised in question.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t listening.” I wink at Devyn. “I was distracted.”

Mrs. Campbell rolls her eyes. “Oh, Lord, Hunter, you are too much.” She swats me like we’re friends, getting way closer than I want my girlfriend’s mom to be, her hand lingering awkwardly on my arm. Devyn sighs, shaking her head and offering me an apologetic wince. I peel Mrs. Campbell’s fingers from my arm. She smells of tequila, and I really hope Devyn doesn’t catch a whiff of it before she leaves. Pretty much anything causes her morning sickness at all hours of the day now.

“Distracted?” She laughs, the smell wafting out from her mouth and filling the space around me. I scrunch my nose and back away, but she doesn’t notice. She’s laughing at what I said. “Distracted by my daughter? This little chunk?”

She reaches for Devyn, to pinch the small roll of flesh hanging over her pants, and all it takes is one beat of nothing before I lose it.

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