Page 52 of Between Hate and Desire

“Thank you, Hunter,” I genuinely say, hoping he sees in my eyes how much I appreciate him.

With a nod, he gives me a little grin. “Anything for you, Lennon. Good night.”

He shuts the door behind him. I fan my blanket out on top of the freshly made bed, then slip under the cool sheets with my pillow. For the first time since Brandon’s death, I relax enough to almost instantly fall asleep, which is a miracle in and of itself, and the only person I have to thank is Hunter.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

HUNTER

I don’t even knowhow to describe these past two months without Brandon. Our normal routines of hanging out on the weekends, hitting up the clubs, or fucking around at home feel like a distant memory now, but at the same time, it seems like only yesterday.

Now the reality of him never coming back or seeing him again hits me over and over every morning I wake up in his room. It’s a fucked-up situation, to say the least, but when Lennon refused to sleep in her bed even after two weeks, I refused to allow her to go on like that. I offered my room in exchange for the couch, but when she saw my feet hanging off the edge, she demanded I take her bed. I’m twice the size of Lennon, but I wanted to be respectful of her space. She’s barely walked into the room she and Brandon shared and has kept everything the same inside. If sleeping on the couch was what it took for her to finally get some rest, I’d sleep on it every damn night.

However, Lennon handed me a clean set of sheets and refused any excuse I gave her. I wasn’t sure I wanted to, considering the endless amount of sex they’ve had in there, but I was kinda out of options. Sleep halfway off the couch and wake up sore as fuck every morning or sleep in their bed with clean sheets. After the first week, it wasn’t so awkward, and it quickly became our new routine.

Each day, I go into my room to grab clean clothes, and she does the same. Then we leave like it’s not weird or anything that we switched spaces. She’s not so tired in the mornings, but I still hear her crying sometimes late at night. The urge to comfort her is so strong that I often find myself on the other side of the door, ready to let myself in. But then I think better of it and force myself to step away and leave her be.

Now Lennon is on summer break and sleeps in, so I tiptoe into my room, grab my things, then quietly leave. I should move my shit over, but until Lennon’s ready, I won’t. I don’t want to overstep my boundaries. I think she likes coming into this room and seeing his things where he left them, but she’s not quite ready to stay for more than a couple of minutes. I can’t imagine how painful it is.

“Morning,” Lennon greets me while I’m in the kitchen. “Coffee. Now,” she mutters. The sleepiness is evident in her tone.

“Why are you up so early?” I ask, filling the coffee pot with water.

“Couldn’t fall back asleep after someone’s loud ass woke me up,” she says, but I know she’s teasing me by the way she’s grinning. I hit the brew button and wait.

“I beg to differ!” I say as if I’m offended at her accusation. “I was beingveryquiet.”

Lennon looks at me, then down at the floor. “You have loud feet, Hunter.”

“What does that even mean? Loud feet?” I wrinkle my nose, fetching the bottle of creamer for her from the fridge.

“I don’t know, but your feet are massive and clunk against the floor.” She waves a hand around as if she’s trying to think of the right words. “Clammer? Clank? Whatever. You know what I mean.” She gets all flustered, which makes me laugh.

“Okay, sorry. I can grab my clothes before bed from now on. Unless you want me to move them over to my room? Your room, I mean.”

I study her face, hoping I didn’t upset her. “It’s okay. I was only teasing.”

Her face holds no expression as she reaches for two mugs and sets them on the counter. “I think I’m gonna read today.”

“Oh yeah?” I ask.

“There’s a new book releasing today, so I’m hoping the bookstore has it in stock.”

I love hearing her talk about getting out of the house without being told or reminded.

“What’s it called?” I ask, genuinely interested.

The coffeemaker beeps, and Lennon fills my mug first. I don’t use creamer, so I start blowing on mine right away. When I finally take a sip, Lennon answers, “Snitches Get Stitches.”

My mouth isn’t fast enough to move away from my coffee before it spews from my lips. She starts laughing as I try to hold the cup away from my body. I wasn’t expecting that responseat all.

“Are you okay?” she asks, though she’s still chuckling at my expense.

“Um…besides burning the fuck out of my lips, yeah.” I set the mug down and grab a paper towel to wipe my chin and shirt. “That’s a weird-ass title I wasn’t anticipating.” I start laughing then too.

“I know, but that’s what makes it fun. It’s an MC romance,” she admits.

“MC?” My brows rise as I think about it. Wait. “Motorcycle?”

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