Page 57 of Sweet Silver Bells
Once more, Hunter raised his club, feeling liberated, like he could do no wrong, that he could be destructive, that he could show the world his hurt for the first time, that he could show the way that he wanted to heal.
He wanted to heal with her, with his tree siren.
“This is for me.” He smashed the television screen with one more forceful swing down, this one loudest of all, as wires poked through, and a hole four inches wide now existed where there once was a working television.
Break it all. Light the house on fire.
Hunter breathed slowly, in through his nose, out from his mouth as the anger that was hidden beneath his skin writhed, an awakened beast, testosterone running through his veins as his body urged him to keep breaking more shit. To erase it all, all of the memories that kept him stuck here, stuck here with Sarah.
Why can’t I let go?
With Olivia watching him, Hunter knew it was now or never. It was time to choose. He couldn’t continue living this way, even if Olivia disappeared, even if he had woken up and realized that this was all some wicked, terrible, heartbreaking dream. He needed to move forward, and though that didn’t mean leaving Sarah behind, it meant making real space, a real effort to bring more into his life.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Worst possible timing.
Hunter dropped the club, staring into Olivia’s mischievous eyes. His hand twitched, and he opened his mouth wide, popping his jaw, a wildness still pushing his heart rate up.
With heavy footsteps, he stalked towards the door, his neck turning, arching as he refused to give up his eye contact with the woman who brought something new out of him, the woman that made him unleash a new man within himself, one that had been dormant, one that he was surprised had ever existed.
His body was rigid, his hands balled into fists, a peacock showing off its feathers as Olivia stared right back.
Is that pride in her eyes?
She was proud of him. She was proud of how feral he could become. How feral he was for her. If it weren’t for that knock at the door, he might have had to reconsider their first time being right, being romantic. This was the most goddamn romantic thing he had done for anyone.
Hunter gritted his teeth and pulled the door handle back. He was pent up, uncontrollably irritated that he had again been interrupted, and he feared for whoever was there, needing to be in his space. Someone always had to be in his space.
He was a goddamn grown man. And he was okay.
He just liked pickles.
At least I have hobbies. I could be a loser.
When the cold intruded on the space, sneaking in like a welcomed pest as the door hung wide open, Hunter saw nothing.
There’s no one here.
His jaw tightened, rage simmering hotter with every second. Being interrupted for a foolish reason was bad enough. Being interrupted for no reason at all was something else entirely. He stepped out onto the porch, scanning the street for a car creeping away, but instead felt a crisp crunch beneath his boot. Bracing himself against the doorframe, Hunter glanced down. Three retail shopping bags, thick paper, garishly bright, each flaunting a different store’s logo, sat brimming at his feet.
Mom.
He’d asked his mom to drop off clothes. He didn’t realize that she would go shopping for an entirely new wardrobe.
Generous. She was always too generous.
Hunter couldn’t stand it. He wished he knew why it bothered him so much to have so much support. Really, what he craved, what he wanted, was no support at all. To be left out in the middle of the woods, with only a knife in hand and a wound on his cheek.
Olivia was teaching him that, teaching him who he could be. His eyes opened for the first time, and he was a newborn, fresh and ready for a world that would try to eat him alive.
But together, they could stop that. Together, the world couldn’t touch either of them.
Hunter grabbed the bags and slammed the door, locking it.
“These are for you,” he muttered. “My mom must really like you. I don’t think she ever bought Sarah an entire rack from a department store.”
“Hunter,” Olivia said, her voice vacant and eerie despite the devastatingly sweet smile on her face. “We need to bury it.”
