Page 56 of Because I Liked A Boy
Hunter’s hand tightens on mine, but I can’t stop now.
“They took us both to the hospital. I kept asking if he was okay. I thought he had to be, because he was Nathan. He was bigger than life, louder than life. He always walked away.” Tears blur my vision. “But he didn’t. They said he was dead on arrival. He never even had a chance.”
The words shatter, ripping out of me like they’ve been trapped too long.
Silence follows, unbearable. My lungs scrape against my ribs, desperate for air.
Hunter moves then, slow and deliberate, closing the space between us on the sofa. His hand finds mine, rough palms grounding trembling fingers. He doesn’t say it wasn’t my fault. He doesn’t feed me lies. He just holds on, thumb brushing circles into my skin until the shaking eases.
And for the first time since that night, I let myself fall into the unknown telling the truth out loud and bracing for what it will cost me.
Hunter doesn’t let go. He just wraps me against him, strong arms caging me in while the tears fall. They soak his t-shirt, streak my face hot and raw, but his chest stays steady under my cheek.
For once, he doesn’t tease. Doesn’t smirk. He just holds me like keeping me together matters more than breathing.
When my sobs ease into shudders, his hand slides through my hair, gentle, careful. His voice is low when it comes.
“My dad didn’t make it to the hospital either,” he murmurs. “Three years ago. He was closing up the shop late—some masked bastard jumped him in the alley. Stabbed him, left him bleeding out on the concrete.”
My breath catches. I shift enough to see his face, but his gaze is somewhere far away.
“They got him to the hospital, but it was too late. Too much blood loss. I didn’t even get to say goodbye.” His jaw flexes, teeth gritting against something heavier than words. “My mum couldn’t take it. Packed up, left Maplewood, never came back. Haven’t heard from her since.”
I reach for his hand without thinking. His fingers tighten around mine, rough and sure.
“So it’s just been me. No siblings. No family left here. Just the garage, the house, and a whole lot of silence.”
He exhales, a rough sound scraping through the quiet. “Guess that’s why I don’t let many people in, princess. Lose enough, and you stop wanting to risk it.”
The ache in my chest shifts, tangled now with his. My tears slow, but my grip on him doesn’t. Two broken pieces pressed together, not whole, but closer than we were minutes ago.
“I guess we’re both broken then,” I whisper.
Hunter pulls back just enough to cup my face in his rough, grease-stained hands. His touch is firm but careful, tilting my head until I have no choice but to look at him. His eyes burn steady into mine, every word fierce.
“We’re not broken, princess,” he says, low and certain. “We’re strong. And we’ll get through this just like we get through every day. One day at a time.”
The words cut straight through me. For so long I’ve seen him as the cocky mechanic with the easy smirk and fast hands, the boy who always had something reckless to say. But here, now, I see the man under it. Steady. Solid. Carrying his own ruins and still holding me up when mine feel too heavy.
Before I can second-guess myself, I lean in. My lips brush his, tentative but certain, desperate for something real after all the lies and ghosts.
Hunter freezes. His hands stay cradling my face, but he doesn’t move closer.His forehead rests against mine, breath ragged. “You’re upset,” he murmurs, voice raw.
“Yes, I do.” My voice shakes, but the truth in it doesn’t. “You’re wrong, Hunter. I want you. I’ve wanted you for a while now… I just didn’t want to admit it.”
His eyes search mine, testing every word. Whatever he finds there, it makes something in his chest ease, and the hesitation cracks.
Hunter tilts my face higher, thumbs brushing away the damp traces of my tears. Then he closes the space.
The kiss is different this time. Not rushed, not reckless. His lips move slow against mine, sure and steady, like he’s memorising me one breath at a time. Heat coils low in my stomach, threaded with something deeper.
When his tongue slides against mine, it’s unhurried, deliberate, a slow claiming that makes my skin prickle. My fingers tangle in his t-shirt, tugging him closer until his body is flush with mine. He groans low in his throat, the sound sparking straight through me.
I nip at his bottom lip, and he answers in kind, teeth catching just enough to sting before soothing it with his tongue. It’s hot, yes, but it’s grounding too—the kind of kiss that makes the rest of the world fall away.
At some point, I don’t notice the shift only that I’m straddling him, knees pressed into the sofa cushions on either side of his body. His hands grip my waist, holding on like he’s afraid I’ll vanish.
The kiss deepens, hotter now, less careful. My gasp breaks it when I feel him hard, insistent against my thigh. His cock, straining, hot even through his overalls.
