Page 90 of Bloom

Something. Sure, I guess you could say that.

I shake my head as I urge Gaia into her stall, earning a less-than-impressed snort as I lock her in for the night. I sneak another sideways glance, my curiosity about the apparent newest addition to Serenity winning out against the childish urge to pretend Hunter isn’t here—and the self-preservational instinct to flee. “He okay?”

“Just a little spooked.” There’s a pause as Hunter finishes getting what doesn’t look like much more than a colt settled in. When he exits the stall, he sets a hand on the closed door, fingers curled around it, knuckles nearly white. He repeats his earlier question, “Did somethin’ happen?”

I shake my head.

“Your dad do somethin’?”

I almost laugh.My dad. I haven’t heard from or seen my dad since The Incident. I’ve barely even thought about him. I’ve had so much else to think about, he’s been all but banished from my mind.

That was one of the things I used to love about being around Jackson, about being on the ranch—when I was here, with him, Dad didn’t exist. I forgot about him. I found peace.

I don’t like that about Hunter—I don’t like that the hurt he causes overwhelms anything my dad does. It doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feelokay.

“No, Hunter,” I insist tiredly, moving towards the office. “My dad didn’t do anything.”

Two long strides bring Hunter within an inch of me. “Can we talk?”

“I’m busy.”

“Please, honey.”

Frustration simmers beneath my skin. “Not right now, Hunter.”

“Five seconds. Hey,” he steps in my way when I try to move around him, lightly clasping my bicep to hold me in place. “I wanna talk to you.”

“I don’t.” I shake him off, cupping my arm to try erase the burning warmth of his touch. “I don’t want to talk to you. I’m tired, okay? I can’t keep doing this. If you don’t like me—” My voice cracks, but I persevere. “—as more than a friend, that’s fine. But you can’t keep acting like this. Saying stuff that makes me think you do, that makes other people think you do, because it’s embarrassing, Hunter. It’s confusing. And it’s not fair. I’m trying, I’m really,reallytrying, but you’re making it so freaking hard.”

With every sentence out of my mouth, I take a step back only for Hunter to take a step closer, advancing and advancing and advancing while I retreat and retreat and retreat until there’s nowhere left for me to go, nowhere else for me to look but right into smoldering eyes. “Tryin’ to do what, Caroline?”

I’m stuck in every sense of the word. I have nowhere to go, no way of backtracking, no energy left to fight my way through another lie. No energy left to admit anything other than the truth. “I spent four years loving someone who was never gonna love me back. Not really. I’m not putting myself in that position again. I’m trying not to like you, but you buy me flowers and you call mehoneyand you make it too hard. You make it impossible, Hunter.”

I’m breathing like I just sprinted a mile. Huffing like I found a little energy after all and spent it running my mouth. Teary-eyed because that’s just who I am, unfortunately.

Hunter’s eyes are dry. A little wide; surprised, if I had to guess. Lips parted, mouth a touch shy of agape. They part a little more, letting in a deep breath, letting out a deeper exhale, before pressing tightly together.

“My last relationship wasn't great.”

I will my expression not to change, not to show my surprise or betray the completely inexplicable surge of jealousy that grips me.

“It was long and unhappy and something I’m still gettin’ over.” His throat bobs nervously, thick fingers so gentle as they brush my hair behind my ear before smoothing along the curve of my neck, holding me there. “I’m not lookin’ for another one. I like you, Caroline, more than I should, but I can’t give you what you want.”

In a single, fleeting moment, a full range of emotions punch me in the gut.

Elation, borderline freaking euphoria, as my heart skips a beat because Hunter likes me. Panic twisting my gut becauseHunter likes me,and I have no idea what to do with that. Confusion addling my brain becauseHunter likesme?

Indignation is what I settle on. What burrows deep in my chest and spreads like wildfire, heating my blood and fuelling my frustration. “What thefuckdoes that mean, Hunter?”

A choking noise echoes around the barn.

“You like me more than you should?” I might be shrieking. I’m pretty sure Iamshrieking. I can’t stop shrieking, though, because shrieking is kind of therapeutic. Shrieking is my armor—shrieking might be the only thing keeping me from an infinitely more embarrassing reaction, like bursting into tears. I repeat, “What does that mean?”

Hunter’s mouth opens, and promptly snaps shut again when he realizes I’m not done.

“How do you know what I want?”Why does everyone think they know what I want?“Have you ever asked?”

Wide eyes blink slowly, the shake of his head just as unhurried.

---