Page 41 of Hunted, Season Three

More laughs flood the open space allowing for an easy getaway.

While I don’t actually have to piss, I do go into the bathroom.

Turn on the water.

Splash some cold on my face.

And then a little more.

Suck in a deep breath and meet my stare in the mirror.

Fuck, can I really do this?

Can I really ask them to spend their life with someone like me?

Someone too old for one.

Too grumpy for the other.

Too stubborn for both.

What the fuck am I really doing?

Just…biding my time?

Hoping they don’t notice they deserve better?

Can do better?

That I’m barely worth the fuck my parents gave to even conceive me.

Because that’s where the fucks stopped.

What if being a shit husband is genetic?

I unhappily grumble and fill my hands up with more water to scrub my face.

What if they don’t want jewelry?

Or to have my last name?

Fuck, whose last name is our son gonna have?

Is being a shit father genetic?

Should we talk about more shit?

Am I completely out of my fucking mind?

Two taps on the door encourage me to snatch a clean hand towel, run it over my face, and open the door, revealing an unexpected sight.

“The nerves are a good thing,” Demián states on a fatherly grin, goatee covered face brightening even more.“It means you give a shit.”He watches me dry my hands.“About them.About your relationship.About your future.”

The claim has me slowing down my actions.“I do.”

“I know you do, Ace.” Pride doesn’t hesitate to make itself seen.“And that’s all we really wanted for you.”

It’s impossible to ignore the lump in my throat his words create.

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