Page 139 of Always You

A yawn escapes, the sound echoing through my bedroom while I wait for midnight to arrive so I can wish Hunter a happy birthday. But five minutes before, he beats me to it, and I settle into my pillow, a smile tugged between my teeth.

“Happy birthday, birthday boy.”

“You sent me a Pink Snowball.” His voice sounds dampened, yet completely in awe while music and voices are audible in the background.

“What else would I send you?”

“Designer clothes? A new watch? A car?”

“First off, Hansen. My budget isn’t really equipped to send gifts like they do in LA. Secondly, that doesn’t really sound like something you’d want for your birthday anyway.” Sure, he likes flashy things, but I know deep down, he’d be cool with jeans from The Gap and driving his rumbling old truck. Or at least, I hope the boy that would love that is still in there somewhere.

I frown at his silence. “Are you okay?”

“Laurie gave me a new Rolex.”

I gasp. “Oh, shit. Sometimes, I really forget how fancy you’ve become.” I smile, even though I say it with a heavy heart, a feeling that grows more uneasy when it’s followed by a loaded silence. “Hunt, I didn’t mean to–”

“No.” His voice is firm, before I the ease slips back in. “You’re right. It’s not something I’d ever want, but I guess that’s LA life.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” The sound of breaking glass reverberates in my ear. “Where are you?”

“In the pantry.”

“In the pantry? Of your penthouse?” A confirming hum slips over the line. “Why?”

“Laurie threw me a birthday party.”

“Oh, that’s nice.” He doesn’t reply. “Right?”

“I guess. I don’t know half the people here.”

For some reason, his hazel eyes flash in my mind with that boyish smirk I love about him, but it’s like tiny needles are flying into my heart at the same time. As if I can feel his pain from across the country. “Are you drunk?”

He chuckles, curling my own lips. “Maybe a little,” he confesses before a deep sigh rolls over the line. “Do you think we’ll ever be okay?”

“What do you mean?” I ask, even though I know exactly what he means.

“You and me. Do you think we’ll ever be who we were six years ago?”

I think long and hard before I answer, tiptoeing about how I should respond to this. “I don’t think we can be, Hunt. We’re not the same people anymore.”

“I know.” He pauses, and I hold in my breath as my eyes well up. “Sometimes I wish I could turn back time. That we’d still be chilling at the creek every weekend, and I’d buy you books whenever I pissed you off. That we could go for ice cream and burgers and drive around late at night. That I’d never left.” The air gets knocked out of my lungs at his last revelation, a tear escaping from the corner of my eye.

“You wouldn’t have what you have now, Hunt.”

I can almost hear him smile through the phone, and I close my eyes.

“I know,” he answers, “but lately I wonder if what I have is what I want.” I sniffle my tears away, telling myself to not read between the lines, but I can’t. I can’t help wondering what he’s saying. What he’sreallysaying. But before I can collect the nerve to call him out on it, a loud pound booms through the phone.

“Hunt, get out, man. It’s your party.” I recognize Jason’s voice, and the sound of music and mumbling voices gets louder, telling me Hunter opened the door.

“I have to go, Charls.”

“Okay, happy birthday.”

“Thank you,” he barely whispers through the phone before the line goes dead, and I’m staring into the darkness of my room, a weird feeling putting all my senses on high alert. Part of me wishes I didn’t answer the phone. That I didn’t hear what I just heard, because I know my mind can’t erase the last five minutes.

That he’d never left...

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