Page 67 of By Your Side
“I didn’t say that,” I hedged. “But between the canceled delivery earlier, Danielle showing up, and Eli letting himself into my locked bar?—”
“He what?” Hunter’s voice rumbled from his chest, low and dangerous.
“He used his key. I made him hand it over.”
“That bastard.” His jaw worked, but he didn’t say anything more, just bent and started loosening the lug nuts.
“You know,” I added, “the girls told him they’d be at their grandparents’ this weekend. They don’t even want to see him right now.”
Hunter’s expression softened, but his voice stayed steady. “Good. They deserve to feel safe. And so do you. I’m taking this tire to the shop. I brought you a new one.”
I didn’t answer, not right away. I just watched him work, the easy competence in his movements, the way he filled my space like he was meant to be here.
When he straightened, wiping his hands on a rag, I found myself saying, “Thank you.”
He stepped closer, his palm brushing lightly against my arm. “Anytime.”
Something in me cracked just enough to lean into him for a second, my forehead resting against his chest. He smelled like soap, coffee, and the faint tang of motor oil, familiar and safe.
“You’ve had a morning,” he murmured.
“That’s one way to put it.”
His lips brushed my temple, feather light. “Come on. I’ll follow you home. Make sure you get there in one piece.”
The drive back was short, but I caught sight of him in my rearview every time I glanced up. It was comforting, like a lighthouse following me home instead of waiting on the shore.
I pulled into the driveway, my porch light still on from the morning rush when the girls had left for school. Hunter parked at the curb and followed me to the door.
“Thanks again,” I said as we stepped inside.
“You don’t have to thank me,” he said, hanging his jacket over the back of a chair. “You know this is the part of the pact where I just show up when you need me, right?”
I gave him a look. “Pretty sure that wasn’t in the original agreement.”
“Guess I’m rewriting the terms.” His smile was small, soft, the kind that tugged at places in me I’d been guarding for years.
I dropped my bag onto the counter and leaned back against it. “You want coffee? I’m making coffee.”
“Sure,” he said, settling into one of the kitchen chairs like this was a perfectly normal mid-morning ritual for us.
While the machine gurgled to life, I let the quiet stretch. Outside, a car drove past, the sound fading quickly into the stillness. My heart was still racing from the day’s chaos, but it was slowing, settling into something steadier just from having him here.
Two mugs in hand, I joined him at the table. His fingers brushed mine when he took his cup, lingering just long enough to make me forget what I’d been about to say.
“You look tired,” he murmured.
I laughed once, softly. “That’s because I am.”
He leaned in, resting his forearms on the table. “Then you should let me take care of you for a while.”
The way he said it—no bravado, no pity—made my throat tighten. I reached across, my fingers wrapping around his. “You already do. You have no idea how much better I feel because of you. It’s everything to me.”
For a beat, neither of us moved. Then he stood, tugging gently until I stood too. His arms slid around me, and I let myself sink into him, the warmth of his chest steady against my cheek.
“You’ve got a lot coming at you,” he said quietly. “But you’re not alone in any of it.”
I tilted my head back to look at him, my hands resting against his ribs. “I know. And I don’t take it for granted, Hunter.”
