Page 51 of Just Home for the Holidays

“Five years ago.” All the fight went out of him with the confession. She might as well know the rest. He got his phone and pulled up the video he moved from phone to phone, the one he’d keep forever. He used the WiFi to send it to the huge flat-screen television on the wall. He couldn’t watch more than a few seconds, though, before his vision blurred and he had to look away. He went to the bathroom then, that song ringing in his ears, and left Chloe with his truth.

* * *

The video had been filmedin a club. Chloe thought maybe she recognized it. It resembled one she’d once visited in the village. It seemed an amateur night of some kind. A comedian was leaving the stage and the crowd quieted as a tall guy took the stage. He carried an acoustic guitar and for a moment, she thought it was Hunter.

He was a musician?

Then whoever was recording swore and she recognized Hunter’s voice. The image was zoomed in and refocused, then she could see that there were subtle differences in the way this guy moved. His smile was a little bit crooked, his swagger a little more pronounced. He started to singRhinestone Cowboy, but he made the cover version his own, slowing it down a little and giving it more of a pop feel.

His voice was gorgeous and rich, and she heard the yearning for fame in every line he sang. He was mesmerizing, his command of the audience complete, and she wasn’t surprised that his song nearly brought the house down. A pretty woman with dark hair met him when he left the stage and kissed him with enthusiasm, and the guy holding the phone—Hunter—hooted and whistled along with the applause.

The recording stopped and she glanced over her shoulder at Hunter, well aware that he was standing in the bathroom doorway. His expression was so raw that her throat tightened in sympathy.

“Hollis,” he said, his words thick.

“You can’t have killed him. Not really.”

“But I did.” His eyes were dark, his voice hollow. “It was right after this. See that guy at the bottom right? He invited Hollis to sing at a private party in the Hamptons on Christmas Eve. Lots of important people were going to be there. We borrowed a friend’s car because Hollis was sure it was his big break. He said we couldn’t not go. Hollis sang his heart out and they loved him.” Hunter sighed and frowned. He rewound the recording to the girl who had met Hollis coming off the stage. “That’s Jacinda. We had to get back to meet her for dinner on Christmas Day. They had a thing, Jacinda and Hollis. He wanted to tell her all about it, but in person. He was excited, but he was wiped out. He’d had a couple of drinks. I hadn’t, so I drove and he slept in the back seat.”

Hunter frowned and Chloe waited. He moved around the living room, looking at items as if he’d never seen them before and finally sank down onto a chair. He perched on the lip of the seat, his gaze fixed on some distant image that only he could see.

“There was almost no one on the road. It had to be three, four in the morning. It was dark, too. Quiet.” His frown deepened. “I must have dozed off, maybe not for long, but long enough. A truck came onto the road beside us, merging off a ramp, and I woke up suddenly. I over-corrected and we went off the other side of the road. The car hit the median and rolled, then landed on its roof and started to burn. The truck driver got me out in the nick of time, but I tried to go back to get Hollis.”

“Your scar,” Chloe guessed.

He touched his side and nodded, then he swallowed. “But Hollis wasn’t in the car. The truck driver made me see and that’s why I didn’t die when the car blew up.”

“But where was Hollis?”

“He was thrown clear.” Hunter raised an agonized glance to Chloe. “The car had a sunroof and I had it open. It popped out when we hit the median.” He sighed. “He hit his head. The coroner said he probably never knew what hit him. I’m not sure whether that’s true or not.” He pushed a hand through his hair. “Not that it made me feel any better.”

“So, you took a lesson from that,” Chloe suggested softly. “That’s why you don’t believe in tomorrow.”

“Damn straight. The future’s a tricky bitch. She might not be there for you. You might as well make the most of every single day that you manage to wake up. Hollis never got to enjoy the results of whatever started after that concert.” His tone turned fierce. “You have to live in the now, like tomorrow is never going to come.”

“And not even commit to having a place to live.”

“What’s the point? It can all be swept away.” Hunter snapped his fingers. “Just like that.”

“And Christmas isn’t worth celebrating either.”

“There’s nothing festive about this anniversary.” Hunter took a ragged breath and she could see how devastated he still was by the loss of his brother. His twin. She wondered how different they’d been. “Sorry. I had no right to dump that on you.” He stood up and paced the room, then shoved his hand through his hair. He was avoiding her gaze.

“You had every right. I asked.” Chloe took a step closer and opened her arms. “Come here.”

Hunter looked at her, as wary and unpredictable as a feral cat. “No pity sex,” he said. “That would really be the worst possible thing.”

“No pity sex,” Chloe agreed with a smile. “I was thinking of a hug.”

“I don’t hug.”

“Who says you’re the only one who gets to break the rules?”

But Hunter held up his hand. “No, Chloe. You don’t get to find the silver lining here. There isn’t one. We aren’t beginning something wonderful. We had sex and it was great, but we’re done. I told you that before and you got me with the walnuts, but that’s it. Go have a nice life with some guy who can give you what you want.”

“While you wallow in self-pity until you die.”

“I’m not wallowing,” he snapped, and his brows drew together in anger. “I’m being realistic. I know what’s within my capabilities...”

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