Page 32 of Passion and Payback

“Wait,” I said, setting the knife down and grabbing his first aid kid. “Let me cover the stitches. They should be alright in the shower, but better safe than sorry for the first week or so.”

Back on track, I worked to cover up the stitching with some water-resistant gauze. If he was as aware of his nakedness around me as I was, he was doing a damn fine job of not showing it. Even now, confused and scared for him, I was distracted by his bare skin. I could tamp it down while I worked on trying to get him covered so he could wash, but the image of his naked body was searing its way into my thoughts.

“There,” I said after a moment, almost giving him a pat but afraid to touch more than I already had.

“Thanks,” he said, turning to open the door to the shower and stepping inside. The water flipped on, and I couldn’t tell through the frosted glass, but it seemed he barely paid attention to the temperature as he began to wash.

I was tempted to leave him in peace, but something told me I should stay. Hunter was clearly in an extreme state of shock and I knew all too well he shouldn’t be left unsupervised. Whatever happened had shaken him badly, and I hoped against hope the attack hadn’t been too bad, and I wasn’t going to witness himlose all the progress he had worked so hard for over the past couple of years.

Picking up the knife, I carefully set it on the edge of the sink and gathered the clothes. I still didn’t know where the hell the hoodie had come from, but it was obvious he’d been wearing it to cover the blood. That presented several more questions I wasn’t sure I would ever get answers to, but hopefully, they could wait.

I froze when I heard Hunter take a sharp breath, the sound shaky and uncertain. It was followed by a suppressed sob. Slowly, I dropped the clothes in the far corner, figuring Hunter would need me when whatever was going on in his head finally started moving into overdrive.

That moment came when he suddenly opened the door, feet slipping under him as he lunged to the toilet. Flinging himself down, he clung to the seat and vomited loudly. Grimacing, I gently touched his back, using a soothing sound when I felt him tense. He was far too engrossed in heaving up every drink he’d had earlier, and I held my hand to his wound, hoping it didn’t split open.

When he finished, he gave a much more obvious sob as his head bowed. I pulled him back while I flushed the toilet so he didn’t have to cry into his puke. There didn’t seem to be anything else in his stomach to spew out, however, and he was more focused on sobbing while pressing his face against the seat.

I kept my peace as I let him get out whatever emotions had been bottled up in his head. I could only imagine what it must feel like to be attacked by someone else after the assault on him and losing Lucas. There was a lot more to the story, I knew that much, but right now, I could only hold him close as his sobs grew less intense.

It was almost ten minutes before his crying finally petered off into sniffles. After making sure he was calm again, I got him some water. Now he was a bit more like himself, I was careful toavert my eyes from his naked, wet body as he grabbed a robe off the back of the bathroom door. That done, he drained the glass before walking to the door.

He stared at me for several seconds, and I wondered what he was going to say, but when the words came, they weren’t what I was expecting.

“I murdered someone tonight.”

I stared, my expression probably as blank as my mind. I had no chance to say anything before he turned, walked out of the bathroom, and headed into the kitchen. I had a good idea where he was going and in all fairness, after that little bombshell, I could probably use a drink myself.

I sat in front of the toilet long enough to hear the clink of glasses. After a few more seconds of trying to understand….well, everything, I realized it was futile. Instead, I pushed to my feet and went into the kitchen to get answers.

Hunter was standing by the sink, a glass full of liquor in his hand. There was another glass on the counter. I took a sip, finding it was one of his other whiskeys.

“Hunter,” I began, thinking of the state he’d been in and the knife. “Self-defense isn’t murder.”

“Murder, self-defense, it’s all semantics. I killed someone. I killed someone. I…killed someone.”

The repetition should have been a warning sign, but it felt less like he was breaking down and more like he was simply stating the truth, so he had to deal with it. He grew quiet as he stood there for a few minutes, occasionally taking a small sip. His hand shook enough to rattle the ice, but he never missed his lips.

“There were four of them,” he began, his eyes locked onto the cabinets rather than looking in my direction. “Three trust fund guys. They met Lucas and me at the club, and we were…having a good night. They were buying drinks and…showing mea lot of attention. Lucas didn’t like it, but I thought it was kind of cute. He wasn’t the jealous type, so seeing him get upset over something like that was just…funny at the time.”

That much I knew, and I knew the next part too. They had talked about having an after-party, but they’d needed to meet up with their dealer. I’d known that Hunter occasionally dabbled in party drugs, and while Lucas wasn’t into it, he went along with it. The two had been lured to an abandoned building under the guise of it being the dealer’s house.

“And they met up with their dealer and attacked you guys,” I said, watching him closely. “You barely survived, and Lucas…didn’t.”

He nodded. “Right, that’s what I told you.”

“Is there something else you need to tell me?”

His eyes continued staring at the cabinets as if they were going to give him the answers he sought. “They raped me.”

The glass in my hand shattered, showering the counter with twinkling shards and a few shots of liquor. He glanced at me in surprise, his eyes locked on the mess I’d made from squeezing the glass too hard.

“Shit,” he said with a sigh. “You cut yourself.”

I had to force myself to look at my hand to see the wounds as blood dripped onto the counter. None of them looked like they needed more than a bit of cleaning. Especially in the face of what he’d just said, a few cuts on my hand weren’t going to bother me.

“They what?” I asked softly as he handed me a clean towel to wrap around my hand. I knew some details had been left out, which were too painful to dredge up, even if it was for me. Never in all my wildest, worst imaginings did I think those words would come out of his mouth.

“The dealer wasn’t all that interested in that,” he said as he carefully began picking up the pieces of glass. It seemed I’dinadvertently given him something to focus on while he regaled the horrible story.

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