Page 151 of Always You

Tired of fighting life.

Tired of wonderingwhat if?

Tired of ignoring him, when all I wanted was to share every hard part of my life with him.

I let out a big sigh, turning my head back in front of me, staring out of the window while he’s waiting for me to tell him which way to go.

“In the truck,” I finally say, with mixed feelings. My heart feels like it’s coming home after a rough day at work, into the comfort of your favorite blankie, while my mind shouts at the familiarity he’s creating. Realizing it’s going to be a fucking challenge to keep Hunter at a safe distance after these eight days.

He hums something in agreement as he turns his truck into the drive-through, ordering what we used to so many times before, as if we never stopped. A few minutes later, I take a bite of my burger, then close my eyes, feeling seventeen all over again, while a small smile lifts my lips.

This shouldn’t feel so good.

I turn my body toward him, pressing my back against the door while I rest my head against the window. He gives me a coy smile as he does the same, mimicking my stance. I eye him, pointing out all the differences in my head. He’s bigger, broader than seven years ago. His features have matured in a fucking sexy way, his chiseled arms now covered with more tattoos than before. But it’s his eyes that captivate me with even more gravity than it felt like when I was seventeen.

Like they hold more depth.

“Wanna play a game?” he asks between bites.

I look at him with suspicion.

“What kind of game?”

“Twenty-one questions.”

“Fine,” I reply, thinking there is no harm in that. “Three passes, though.”

“Cool. You can go first.” He nudges his head toward me, while he takes off his snapback and throws it on the dashboard, then runs his hand through his messy hair. My lips absentmindedly part, glancing at the thick veins on his biceps.

I take another bite of my burger, wondering what I should ask him.

“Have you already visited your mother?” I ask, thinking I’m not ready to ask the deep questions.

“I’m staying with her,” he confesses, giving me a look, as if he can’t believe it himself.

“You are?” My eyebrows raise in surprise. “Why?”

“I’ve paid off her mortgage. It was the least she could do when I told her I needed a place to stay.”

“Why didn’t you just buy a house if you’re planning to stay?”

He raises his finger in a reprimanding way.

“Na-ah, that’s another question. My turn,” he says, handing out half of his burger for me so we can switch.

“Are you going to keep living in your mom’s house?”

The question slightly makes me gasp for air, because it’s one I don’t have an answer to.

“I don’t know. I haven’t decided yet,” I confess, causing him to give me a sympathetic smile. I’ve been thinking about it a lot, but even though it’s been almost a year since my mom passed away, I’m still not any closer to making a definite decision about it. Part of me wants to stay, doing my best to keep every memory of my mother intact, not willing to give it up just yet. While the other feels like I need a fresh start, to start my own life instead of continuing on with my old one.

“My turn. Why are you really moving back?”

It’s a tricky question, because while I think I want to know the answer, the answer he gives me might not be what I want to hear if it means he’s going to move through my life like a hurricane, destroying everything I’ve built since I lost Mama.

Not that it’s much, but still.

He lets out a sweet chuckle that strokes my ears, a sweet smile splitting his face.

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