Page 3 of Moonlight Feels Right
After slipping on his shoes, he grabbed his phone and followed Olivia and Emmalyn upstairs. He couldn't blame Olivia for being upset. He wouldn't want to be left with a stranger either, especially not one who looked like he'd been dragged backward through hell, which was basically how he would describe his life for the past seven months.
But Livvy had had a rough time, too. She'd lost her dad, and clearly, the rest of her family was falling apart. He needed to be there for her. He just hadn't expected to have to deal with this situation today after completing a challenging rehab session that had taken a lot out of him, both physically and emotionally. He'd been pressing hard because he would have to take the physical exams required to prove he was physically fit for duty within the next two weeks. Then he'd have to convince the board he was also mentally ready, which seemed just as challenging. His future as a military pilot would be decided in the next month. Focusing on that had been his only priority until now.
Olivia's sudden arrival was an obstacle, a challenge he hadn't expected. But she was here, and he was going to have to deal with her because she was six, and she definitely couldn't take care of herself.
As he followed Emmalyn up the stairs, he realized he'd finally had to say yes to someone in the building after months of rejecting every invitation. He'd moved into Ocean Shores because it was close to Camp Pendleton and the hospital where he'd spent the majority of his time the past seven months. But he hadn't anticipated the complex being so friendly. There were community events every other day, and because the two-story building was set around an outdoor courtyard and pool, with everyone's front door facing that yard, it was difficult to go anywhere without running into someone, without being invited to a pool party or a poker game or a taco night.
He'd always said no, which made him wonder why Emmalyn had offered him a lifeline. He'd never been friendly to her. His grief and trauma since the crash had sent him into a dark hole of depression that had made things like simple greetings almost impossible. He'd just wanted to be left alone.
But he wasn't alone now…
"Here we go," Emmalyn said, interrupting his thoughts as she opened her door and waved them into her apartment.
The contrast between their apartments was immediate and jarring. While his place was sparse and utilitarian—a reflection of his military background and his current state of mind—Emmalyn's was warm and inviting. Soft throw pillows adorned a comfortable couch and matching armchair. Potted plants thrived on every available surface. The walls featured cheerful watercolor paintings, many of the sea and local landmarks. Everything about her apartment was warm and inviting, maybe even a little messy, but it felt like her. She was attractive in a sweet, girl-next-door kind of way, with long blonde hair that was often falling out of a ponytail or a braid.
As Emmalyn took Olivia into her small kitchen, he pulled out his phone and punched in Bree's number. It went straight to voicemail, and he felt a wave of frustration at his inability to fix the impossible situation she'd put him in.
"Bree, it's Hunter. Call me back. We need to talk about this." His voice came out harsher than he intended, and he glanced up to see Emmalyn watching him from the doorway to the kitchen with concern on her face.
"I take it she's not answering," Emmalyn said as he ended the call.
"No."
"I'm not trying to downplay whatever is going on, but maybe a cookie would help?"
Her smile loosened the tense knot in his gut. "Well, it couldn't hurt," he said as he followed her into the kitchen. Olivia sat on a high stool at the counter, already eating her cookie, with a glass of milk in front of her.
His glance moved around the kitchen, noting more colorful touches and whimsical items that were mostly shaped like apples, from the salt and pepper shakers to the napkin holder, and the apple-shaped vase on the adjacent kitchen table that was covered with kid drawings and children's books.
As Emmalyn handed him a cookie on a red plate that was also shaped like an apple, he couldn't help but raise an eyebrow.
"It was a gift from a parent," Emmalyn said. "I swear I don't have an obsession with apples, but a lot of the parents do. I'm a kindergarten teacher."
"An apple for the teacher," he muttered.
"Exactly. And they're kind to think of me at all, so I've decided to embrace the new apple décor I get every year."
"It looks like you bring your work home with you." He tipped his head to the table.
"We did those pictures today. I'm going to hang them tomorrow, but I wanted to look through them since it's a new year and a new group of kids. Do you want some milk to go with your cookie? I also have water or juice."
"No, thanks." He took a bite of the warm cookie, surprised by the chocolate perfection. "This is good." He couldn't remember when he'd last eaten anything sweet, anything just for the pure pleasure of eating. In fact, most days he only ate because he needed the strength to do his rehab.
"You can sit down if you want," Emmalyn said, pointing to the stool next to Olivia.
"Actually, it's good for me to stand."
"How is your leg? I noticed you haven't had your cane for a while."
"It's healed." He saw the questions brimming in Emmalyn's hazel eyes, and the last thing he wanted to do was answer them. Thankfully, Olivia interrupted.
"Can I have another cookie?" she asked.
"One is enough before dinner," Emmalyn answered, not bothering to check with him, although she did immediately give him an apologetic look. "Sorry. Habit. I should have let you respond to that."
"No. You're right. One is enough for a snack."
"But I'm hungry," Olivia protested.
