Page 47 of Because I Liked A Boy
I roll my eyes, but my lips curve anyway.
He pulls food from the basket—cheese, crackers, strawberries, even a pack of store-bought cookies. Mismatched. Imperfect. Perfect.
“You really planned all this?” I ask, biting into a strawberry. Juice runs down my thumb, and I lick it away quickly, heat prickling when I catch him watching.
“I told you—I don’t bring just anyone here.” His voice drops, low and certain.
My chest tightens. “Why me, then?”
Hunter leans back on his palms, eyes flicking to the open stretch of sky overhead. “Because this place is mine. No noise. No eyes. No bullshit. I don’t share it.” His jaw works for a second, then he looks at me again. “But you don’t feel like most people. You don’t look uncomfortable here. You look like you can actually breathe.”
The words snag something deep in me, sharp enough to sting.
And when his smirk curves, softer this time, it feels like a blow. “That’s why I brought you.”
The wine tastes stronger now. I set my cup down, fingers knotting in the blanket. “I’m not used to this.”
His brow lifts. “Picnics?”
“No.” I shake my head. “Real dates. Real anything. My whole life it was arranged, boys, situations, outcomes. Never about me.”
Something dark flickers in his eyes. “And you went along with it?”
“I didn’t have a choice.” My voice cracks. “This… tonight… it’s the first time I’ve done something because I wanted to.”
The silence thickens. For once he doesn’t look cocky. He looks like he’s holding something back, like if he says it out loud it might break him too.
Finally his voice drops, low and certain. “Then don’t waste it pretending with me. No masks. Not tonight.”
His gaze pins me. Steady. Terrifying. My walls feel thinner than ever. “Hunter…” My voice trembles. He waits.
“You know Nathan’s gone,” I whisper. “But you don’t know the rest. Not really.”
“Then tell me.”
“I was driving that night.”
The words burn on the way out. My chest clamps tight. “I thought I was keeping him safe. He’d been drinking, he was furious. I thought if I got him out of there, it would calm him down. But the brakes…” My voice cracks. “They gave out. And when I tried to stop, I couldn’t. The world just… went.”
Tears sting my eyes. My hands won’t stop shaking. “The last thing I remember is reaching for him. And his hand slipping out of mine. I see it every time I close my eyes. Him leaving me, even though he didn’t mean to. And all I can think is that if I’d been better—faster, stronger he’d still be here.”
Hunter’s hand covers mine. Warm. Solid. Certain. “Isabella.” His voice is rough but steady. “You didn’t kill him.”
A sob breaks loose. “I was driving—”
“You were saving him,” Hunter cuts in. “You were the reason he wasn’t behind that wheel drunk. You didn’t touch the brakes. You didn’t cause it. You loved him. That’s all he knew.”
His grip tightens, anchoring me. The years of silence, the crushing weight I’ve carried it all cracks open under his certainty.
For the first time since that night, I don’t feel like I’m drowning alone.
He doesn’t let go. If anything, he pulls me closer, his hand sliding to the back of my neck as he guides me against his chest.
The dam really breaks then. Tears spill hot and unrelenting, soaking into his shirt. He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t tease. Just holds me, big hand rubbing slow circles into my back, steady as the earth beneath us.
For once, I don’t feel like I have to hide it. For once, it feels safe. “Breathe, Isabella,” he murmurs into my hair. “I’ve got you.”
“I don’t know how to live without him,” I whisper.
