Page 148 of Bloom

Big hands curl into fists.

“Not alone,” I hastily add before he assumes the worst and flies out the door. “Jackson was with me. Nothing happened, I promise. I just needed to say goodbye. Because I'm done with him.”

Hunter makes a soft noise, his expression even softer. He reaches for me, but I evade, shaking my head. “But I realized I can’t be done, not really, if I’m here.” I drop my gaze to my hands, drop my voice to a whisper. “I’m leaving Haven Ridge. I have to. I’m so sorry.”

Other than the sound of my pulse pounding in my ears, only silence follows my confession. None of my hypotheticals come to fruition. As the quiet stretches on, that ever present dread spreads like poison ivy because what if the outcome I couldn’t bear to consider is happening—what if he doesn’t care? What if I’m on the verge of a panic attack, near tears, and he’s thinkingwoohoo! I’m free!

It’s my dad’s voice suggesting that. I know it is. It doesn’t make the idea any less penetrating, though. And when Hunter sighs, it burrows a little deeper.

I peek at him through my lashes, finding him sitting perfectly still, gnawing on his bottom lip. “Hunter?”

“Gimme a sec, honey.” With another sigh, he flops backwards, eyes shut as he runs his hands through his hair. “Tryna think of a response that doesn’t make me sound like a dick.”

Oh,God. Heisrelieved. He’s relieved, and he’s trying not to hurt my feelings.

Choking on a sob, I stumble back a step, and his eyes fly open again. My thoughts must be written all over my face because in an instant, he’s reaching for me, and he doesn’t let me escape this time. He reels me in by my hips, positioning me between his spread thighs as he palms the back of mine. “You hurt my feelings when you do that, you know? Assume the worst of me.”

“You—”

“Asking you to stay,” he cuts me off, kissing his teeth, “would make me a dick. Wanting you to stay makes me a dick when I know why you’re leaving. And I do want you to. You have no fuckin’ idea how much. But,” his hands glide upwards, up and and up until he’s cupping my cheeks gingerly, so careful of the ruined skin. “I want you to be happy more. Still gonna love you, honey. From a distance, up close, doesn’t matter. We’ll figure it out.”

Too many emotions to correctly identify even one roil behind my ribcage. “You make it sound easy.”

“It is. I love you. You love me. Easy.”

Easy. I huff as I slide my hands along his broad shoulders and around his thick neck, playing with the curls at his nape. “You know, you’ve told me you love me more times in the past day than I’ve heard in years.”

He shifts to kiss my arm, humming against my skin. “Figure if I say it enough, you’ll believe me eventually.”

“I do. Believe you. And I…”

He smiles softly. “I know.”

“I don’t think I can say it,” I admit quietly. “I think if I say it, I won’t leave.”

Pressure on the backs of my thighs urges me forward, and I let myself be guided to straddle his lap. I shiver as his hands slip beneath my dress to wrap around my bare waist, thumbs tracing my hip bones, and again when he presses his lips to mine, gentle but firm. “You tell me all the time, honey. Don’t need to hear it.”

A rush of purely selfish relief has me slumping against him. The urge to apologize writhes in my stomach, but I stifle it, knowing he doesn’t need that either.

“Where’re you gonna go?”

Honestly? “I have no idea.”

Knuckles graze my ribcage before fingertips kneads the knot between my shoulderblades. “If you find yourself in Georgia, my momma would like to meet you.”

I pull back to assess the sincerity behind his claim. “Really?”

The corner of his mouth lifts mirthfully. “She might track you down the second you cross state lines.”

“I didn’t know she knew about me.”

“I’m pretty sure she knew before I did,” Hunter rumbles, whatever that means, and I don’t get to seek clarification before he moves on. “When’re you leaving?”

“In a few days,” it feels so unreal and ridiculous and impulsive to say, but I need it to be like that, quick enough to give a girl whiplash, because quick means less time to talk myself out of it.

The chest beneath my palms rises and falls slowly, the sound that rattles within it almost… mournful. “We gotta do something before you go.”

I blame him and his warm, wandering hands for the dirty route my mind takes. “Yeah?”

---