Page 38 of Sweet Silver Bells
Olivia hummed, bringing him back.
“Let me know if you need help figuring out the bed. I’ll grab one of these pillows here. I’ll be out in the living room.”
He could have sworn that the vines on the windowsill shivered, stretching ever so slightly toward him as he bid her goodnight.
10
CHAPTER TEN.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The first set of bangs on the door woke Hunter from his sleep, but instead of standing and running to the door, he struggled to open his eyes. Heat from the sunlight streaming in through his single-pane windows warmed his chin. His body sank into the cushions, the ribbed fabric of the couch rubbing against his right hip as his shirt shifted out of place, an innocent betrayal.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Who would come here so early?
“Go away,” he muttered, knowing no one could hear him.
“Hunter Nethanial Gunnan,” a shrill woman’s voice came from the other side of the front door. “I have a key, and I will use it.”
Mom.
“She’ll do it, son. Time to get decent.”
Dad.
Hunter sprang up off the pillow and blanket, which tangled around his feet and tripped him. He wobbled forward, trying not to trip, but it was too late. The click of the latch sounded, and thefront door swung open, bringing in the chill from outside and the most frightening thing that could appear in his home at that time: his parents.
“Are you still in bed?” He could hear his mom’s voice, the heels in her boots thudding with her short, bouncy steps. They carried her straight down the hallway, into his bedroom.
“A woman!” she screamed.
There it is.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I’m here looking for my son. He lives here. You’ve got such pretty hair.”
“I found him,” his dad called, standing in the entryway to the living room. “Over here, Minerva.”
Dad, still unfairly handsome for his sixties, clapped Hunter’s back like nothing was out of place. The full head of silver hair, the stubble, the cheap clothes—everything exactly the same as always.
People said Hunter looked like him. He hoped they were right.
His mom marched in with the energy of the fifth graders in his class. Her bleached blonde hair was pinned tight, and pearls dangled from her ears. Her bright red jacket tapered down to her knees to show off her black boots.
“Mark, there’s a girl in Hunter’s room.”
“I heard, Minerva,” his dad sighed. “Hunter, there’s a woman in your bed.”
“Oh my gosh, I am so proud of you,” Mom threw her arms around Hunter’s neck, forcing him to bend down a few inches. She pulled his face close to hers.
“I loved Sarah. We all did, but it’s only healthy to have a rebound.”
“Mom . . .” Hunter groaned. “Dad, a little help here?”
“I’ll be staying out of this one,” Dad said, flopping onto the couch and pulling out his phone.
“Wait a minute.” Mom looked down at the bedding thrown across the floor. “Did you sleep on the couch? Mark, he slept on the couch.”
