Hunter
Wait, she talked about going to the bookstore today. Let me see if she’s home first.
I press her number before waiting for his response. It rings twice before she picks up.
“Hey,” she whispers.
“Hi. Are you home? Mason wanted to bring you lunch,” I tell her.
“No, I’ll be home in about fifteen, though. Walking to the registers now,” she whispers again.
“Why are you whispering?”
“Because I’m at the bookstore and don’t want to be rude when people are shopping and reading,” she says in a condescending tone and then laughs.
“Okay, just asking.” I chuckle, shaking my head. “Did you find your book?”
“Yep! Grabbed a few others too. A new adult fantasy, a young adult romance, and a self-help book on grieving.”
I wasn’t expecting that last one, but I can’t say I’m surprised either.
“They sound…interesting.”
“I guess we’ll see.” She breathes out. “Tell Mason I’ll be back home shortly. Wait. Do you know what he’s bringing me? Maybe I’ll stay,” she asks with a soft laugh.
“Freeloader,” I tease. “He said Del Taco.”
“Hell yeah. Okay, I’ll be home as soon as I check out.”
After we hang up, I text Mason and give him the update. He sends back a thumbs-up emoji, and I relax the rest of the day knowing Lennon is slowly but surely becoming herself again.
I don’t get home until after six and am anxious to eat and watch TV like we planned. Today was the Monday-est Tuesday ever, and I’m over it.
Seeing Lennon on the couch with a book in her face makes me smile. The other two books she bought are on the coffee table, and by the way she’s grinning, I assume she’s not reading the grief book.
“I’m gonna shower quickly since I was on the worksite all afternoon. You okay with ordering tonight?” I ask, kicking off my boots.
“Sure, that’s fine,” she answers without looking away from the page. It makes me chuckle.
“Think about what you want while I’m in there because I’m hungry as fuck,” I say, unbuttoning my shirt. “Guessing tacos are out of the question since you had that for lunch.”
I pull off my shirt and rub a hand over my jawline. Shit, I need to shave too. The scruff’s getting a little thick.
“Anything besides sushi, though. Maybe burgers?” I say aloud, undoing my jeans. I’m too far in my head thinking about food to see Lennon’s staring at me over her book with perked up brows. “What?”
“Um…” She clears her throat. “Didn’t realize you were providing dinneranda show.”
“Huh?” I look down and realize I’m down to my boxer briefs. “Fuck.” I grab my clothes off the floor and turn to walk down the hallway. “Sorry!”
Laughter echoes from behind me.
I was so distracted and eager to get out of my work clothes, I wasn’t even thinking. Now she probably thinks I’m a pervert. I’ve walked around in my underwear before, usually as I’m escorting a one-night stand out the door, but this was like a private strip show, which was unintentional.
I wash off and think about the past two months and how much has changed. Some days are better than others, but Lennon and I are still taking it one day at a time. The grief hits me at random times and is often unexpected.
Not only do I miss my best friend more than I ever thought possible, but I’m struck with guilt anytime I look at Lennon and wish I could kiss the sadness off her face. It’s fucked up, this whole situation is, but what happened didn’t automatically erase the deep-rooted feelings I had for her. If anything, they’ve intensified as we’ve grown closer, and I feel like a fucking prick for it.
On top of that, I haven’t gotten laid in over two months, which means fucking random girls to forget about her is no longer my coping mechanism. At least when I was with another woman, I could hide those feelings and bury them in someone else. Now they’re all pent-up and piling up.