Page 45 of 2204 Hunter Lane
They were so used to monitoring every single aspect of my life that finally, when they couldn’t anymore, it drove them mad. That was the only reason I could place. So they could scrutinize me, make me feel like that young, sheltered minion that couldn’t survive without them.
I confessed to Todd’s infidelity and a pitchy laugh harped through the other line.
“What did you expect, Marley? A prince charming? You’re a fool in feathers, so naive.”
In all my best efforts, I fought off the tears as long as I could, listening to my mom berate me and play victim.
“You know, Iwascalling to wish my only daughter a happy Thanksgiving but that greeting was clearly misplaced.”
And she hung up.
Cut the line without so much as a goodbye.
I let the tears run, then. Trying to hold them in would’ve killed me on the spot. And to make matters even more emotional, Adam’s texts were a series of “I miss you’s” and “please visit sometime.”
When I found Hunter standing outside my door apologizing, I broke in half. I was already a ruined mess, having to relive the pain of losing my family all over again. I wanted to visit Adam so badly, and I thought maybe after one year of no contact, my mother would’ve realized that I ran off for a reason.
But once again, Harlow and Mike were always right. My dad didn’t even bother to text me. After the phone call with my mom, she probably relayed all sorts of incriminating messages like I was living on the streets selling cocaine or something.
The waitress returned with a tray of drinks; two doubles for Hunter and a glass of Prosecco for me.
He took a swig from his cup and licked his bottom lip before questioning again. “Bambi?”
My thoughts were in shambles over this morning’s ordeal that I completely forget he’d asked me what happened.
“Don’t worry about it.” I drawled, sipping the bubbly liquid.
His finger toured the rim of his drink as he exhaled, flexing the muscles in his jaw.
“You were cryin’.”
“People cry all the time.”
“Bambi –” he paused. “Look, we got off on the wrong foot.”
I snorted. “You think?”
His fingers laced together as he set aside the liquor, pressing his lips into a thin line.
“I’m not gon’ press you if you don’t wanna talk about it. But I’m throwin’ a line if you decide to.”
He sounded sincere. Every part of him. From his downturned eyes, softer and less stressed with anger, to his calm features. I’d never seen him in this light, as a human being rather than a prisoner of his own mind.
I’m going to need a freaking drink for this.
In one gulp, I drained half my Prosecco, swallowing down the bubbly fizz that burned my throat.
His eyes widened but he didn’t say a thing, letting me have the stage to talk.
“I’m going to start by saying that I’m not looking for sympathy. My situation pales in comparison to yours, and I –”
“Stop.” He shook his head, gripping the crystal glass that housed his whisky. “Don’t be comparin’ nothing. Just talk. I’m listenin’.”
I couldn’t help it. But I obeyed and peppered the backstory.
“When I moved to Nebraska to be with my nowex-boyfriend, I left my entire life behind. The glamourous career, the ditzy groupies, my brother…” That one pained me to say.
“Anyway, I left it and I didn’t look back. My mom and dad, they always had this image of what my lifeshouldlook like… never taking into account what I wanted from it at all.
