Page 93 of Hunter

Hunter looked up, a flicker of a smile on his face. “Ah … no.” He coughed. My words must have been an underlying invitation for him, encouraging him to come closer and sit in the chair next to the bed instead of his corner one. “That was Jax. He stayed with you when the ambulance arrived, and with the scene and everything, he got locked up.” He looked down at his hands, smoothing over the scabs formed across them. “Took my place so I could be here for you when you woke up.”

“Oh,” I said, nodding absently. I would have to clear that up with the police so Jax could get released. It had been a kind thing for him to do. “He didn’t have to do that.”

“No, he didn’t,” Hunter said. “He’s a good brother.”

“That isn’t what I meant, Hunter,” I whispered, feeling my heart squeeze when I saw Hunter flinch. When he looked up, I could see vulnerability in him for the first time. “I meant … it wasn’t necessary for Jax to do that. Or for you to be here.”

My heart ached, and as much as it had soared when I knew the Black Angels had come to rescue me back at the warehouse, there were things I couldn’t forgive.

“You left me, Hunter,” I said, emotion tightening my throat and making my stitches sting. However, I pushed through it, the words needing to be borne. “I know you were upset with Wolf and didn’t want to lash out at me, but it’s not good enough. No matter what, you told me you would protect me and my son—your nephew. But you got upset and you left us. It may not have played out any differently than what happened, but you were meant tostay.”

I felt the tears slide down my face as I watched Hunter silently listening. He didn’t interrupt me. He didn’t make excuses. He just listened as I carried on.

“I want to say that everything that happened made me realize that it didn’t matter. That because I love you, and that because I almost died, I can get over it, and we can be happy like we deserve. But this isn’t like the movies, Hunter. You broke your promise to me. More importantly, you broke your promise to Adair. I can’t forgive that. I want to, but I can’t.”

The silence, pregnant with my words, was heart-wrenching. Hunter sat so very still that I feared he would shatter if I spoke again.

My throat burned as I willed myself not to give in and forgive him, not to apologize, not to try to fix his heart when mine was too shattered to do so. I didn’t have the right to cry, not in front of him, not right then, but the tears kept coming anyway. It near killed me when Hunter finally spoke.

“Okay,” he whispered.

And then he left.

Chapter Thirty-One

Hunter

Two months later…

Isatwith a glass of whiskey at the bar. It was warm and had burned when I swallowed the first mouthful. That had been ten minutes ago. Now, I swirled the liquid around in the glass, looking deep into it as if it might have the answers to all my problems.

“She hasn’t forgiven you yet?” a voice asked as a drunk brother collapsed onto the stool next to me.

“Aren’t you supposed to be enjoying your party?” I yelled over the booming music where said party was amassing with naked girls, drugs, alcohol, and all things club tradition. “Aren’t those eyes of yours supposed to draw those women in like bees to honey?”

“Nah, I’m worn. It may have been two months, but I’m only healed up so much.” Mint laughed, pointing over his shoulder to a pile of girls. “Besides, I think Jax and Lamb got my share of fun covered.”

“You’re already patched in, brother. You have as much right to those girls as any of us. Don’t let those forever-horny bastards steal your thunder.”

“It took until now to get Jax outta county jail. He deserves it.” Mint pulled up his leather sleeves and tugged on the edges of his brand-new cut, his jovial mood turning somber. “Didn’t think you were serious when you said getting my patch would near kill me.”

“You laid down your life to protect my girl and my nephew. Voting you in was the least I could do.”

“Your girl?” Mint parroted. “What happened to being your old lady?”

“Look,” I said, splaying my palms open between us. “I appreciate what you’re doing, but I don’t wanna talk.”

“Yeah, well, I’m gonna talk anyway,” Mint retorted. “All you have to do is listen.”

“You’re not supposed to talk,” I scoffed. “You’re supposed to be the quiet type.”

“I talk when things need to be talked about. Before, it wasn’t my place, but like you said,brother, I’m patched in now, so I have the right to give you shit.”

“Cocky bastard.” I shook my head. He would fit right in.

Mint winced as he leaned over the bar and managed to scoop up two beers. He set one in front of himself and the other in front of me. Popping the lid of his own with his bare hands, he took a long gulp of the warm liquid. Then, with a gasp, he set it down. Mint didn’t waste a second starting his speech.

“Mallory’s a nice woman. She’s kind, she cooks, she’s a good mother; not to mention that mouth and mind. Hell, I even heard Baby likes her. She’s old lady material. She’s also hurt, and that space you’re giving her is only letting her crawl into that big brain of hers. By now, I’m sure she’s weighed up all the pros and cons of staying, thought about how easy it would be to leave you, and how much it’ll hurt.”

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