Page 59 of Merritt and Her Childhood Crush
“Cassidy made me laugh,” he continues. “It was easy between us. We started spending time together and …”
I can fill in the rest of the blanks, though I’d rather not. Thinking about Hunter with her or anyone else is just—no. No. No. NO.
He reaches across the table again, offering his hand like he did before. Not pressuring. Letting me decide. I slide my hand into his. I don’t realize how hard I’m squeezing his fingers until he squeezes mine back and clears his throat.
“Sorry,” I say, starting to ease my fingers away.
He grips me tighter, keeping my hand right where it is. “I don’t mind.”
I exhale, letting out a slow, intentional breath. “Okay. Continue.”
Hunter hesitates, and I get the sense that this is hard for him too. Not because he’s still hung up on her or because it hurts him to remember, but because he’s thinking aboutme. That’s the kind of man he is. Hunter is (correctly) worried I might not want tohearabout him and Cassidy.
Which is good. I don’t want my sudden bout of possessiveness to make me want to fight a pregnant woman. I asked him to tell me after all. I just didn’t realize how this conversation would make me feel.
Remember the kiss. He kissed you on the sidewalk today. YOU.
It helps a little. Until he says her name again with such familiarity.
“Cass was seven months pregnant when we graduated from high school. We got married right after, and then came Isabelle.”
This is the perfect time for me to tell him that I know because I was there that day. I may not have had all these details then, but I got the gist. Hunter in a suit. A pregnant Cassidy looking beautiful and perfect in a wedding dress. Oh, how itburnsto remember.
He’s making the marriage part sound very practical. Gran did tell me that’s all it was when she helped me into her house and bandaged my knees from where the oyster shell path had cut them. She said it was a decision they made more becauseof the baby than because they were truly in love. But I didn’t believe her. Or maybe it didn’t matter? Because either way, he marriedher.
I came all the way to Oakley without even telling my mom for one reason. I came to tell Hunter I loved him, that I never got over him, that I was so sorry I hurt him.
And he marriedher.
“Did you love her?” I ask simply.
He rubs one hand across his jaw. The other still rests in mine. “Of course I did. I still do. She’s the mother of my daughter. And a good friend.” Something flashes in his eyes. “But I neverloveloved her. We had good intentions, but eventually, Cassidy and I both realized there was a reason we didn’t work together. We never feltrighttogether.”
There is so much warmth in Hunter’s expression. And a spark, too. I can’t decide if I want to cry about the past or just crawl across the table and settle into his lap so we can pick up the kissing where we left off outside of Frank’s barber shop.
Instead of doing either one, I pull my hand away and lean back, needing a second to catch my breath and think clearly. Which I absolutely cannot do as long as Hunter’s skin is on mine.
“Hunter! There you are!” a voice calls.
“Oh no,” Hunter mumbles.
An older couple quickly bustles their way toward us, the woman waving like we’re long-lost friends she hasn’t seen in years. The woman looks vaguely familiar but—
“It’s my parents.” He shoots me a weary look. “I’m sorry in advance for …everything.”
Now I remember Hunter’s mom—her wide smile, the deep brown eyes that match his. Her hair is now pure white, a neat bob ending just below her chin. I only met her a couple of times. I never met his dad, but there’s no mistaking who he is. He reminds me so much of Hunter, I want to laugh. His beard is a little shorter and neater than Hunter’s, and his hair is darker. But it’s his reserved countenance that really clinches it.
“You might not remember me, dear,” his mom says. “I’m Carol, Hunter’s mama.” She pulls two more chairs over from a nearby table. “And this is Grant, Hunter’s daddy.”
Before she sits down like it is no big deal to jump right into her son’s date, she pats Hunter on the shoulder and kisses his bearded cheek, then turns right back to me. “What are the odds that we would just run into the two of you like this?”
Hunter’s dad snorts and gives his wife a look as he takes his seat.
Carol’s eyes gleam mischievously. “Well, itwasa coincidence that we just happened to be right down the street when I saw the TikTok. Bob Harley commented and said he saw the two of you come in here.”
I swear, I haven’t given TikTok as much thoughteveras I have in the past hour. Am I the only one on this islandnotusing the app?
“Oh. Perfect,” Hunter says, giving me a look saying he’s so sorry. “And crashing our date felt like the best course of action?”
