Page 90 of By Your Side
Before I could argue, he was up, tugging on his jeans, bare feet silent against the old wood floor as he disappeared down the hall. The faint creak of cabinets, the soft scrape of a chair pulled across the kitchen floor—it all carried back to me, calming me like some kind of lullaby.
I sat there in his bed, quilt wrapped around me, watching the morning light spill across the floorboards. My chest still ached, but the weight wasn’t crushing me quite as hard. Not with him here.
A few minutes later, Hunter came back in, balancing two mugs and a small plate. He set one mug on the nightstand beside me, the steam curling up in lazy ribbons. “Coffee,” he said simply.
The smell hit me first—strong and dark, exactly how I liked it. Then he set a tray in my lap: two pieces of toast, butter melting into the edges, and a little jar of jam.
“Toast?” I asked, the corner of my mouth twitching in disbelief at being served breakfast in bed. “Thank you.”
“You didn’t eat dinner last night,” he reminded me gently, sliding onto the bed beside me. “Coffee and stress aren’t going to cut it anymore, Paige. Not when I’m around. We’ll get something more later.”
I huffed a laugh, even though my throat was still tight. “Bossy.”
“Damn right,” he said, leaning back against the headboard, his own mug in hand. “Now eat.”
The first bite nearly undid me all over again. Not because it was anything special—just warm bread, sweet jam—but because he’d thought of it. Because while I was falling apart, he’d gotten up and made sure I had something simple and comforting to hold onto.
I blinked fast, staring down at the plate in my lap. “You’re going to spoil me if you keep this up.”
He angled toward me, eyes warm but steady. “Good. Somebody should.”
That was all it took for my eyes to sting again, but this time I smiled through it. He reached over, brushing the back of his fingers across my jaw, then let his hand fall, like he knew if he lingered too long, I’d start crying again.
We ate in silence, the kind of quiet that wasn’t heavy anymore. Just soft and safe.
When my toast was gone and the last sip of coffee had gone lukewarm, I leaned against him, the quilt pooled around both of us. His arm came around me instantly, tucking me close like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Chapter 31
Hunter
The morning air was brisk, damp from the rain, the gravel drive gleaming wet in the sun. Paige was inside, warm in my bed, finally letting herself rest. I’d stepped out for a breath, trying to cool the storm that had been riding me since we found out about Eli in the tavern.
Then Eli pulled up to the curb in his truck. My whole body went tight as he slammed the door and came stomping up my drive. He looked like hell—rumpled shirt, bloodshot eyes, jaw working like he’d been chewing on bitterness all night.
“You think you’re real slick, don’t you?” he snapped. “Going after my wife? Sliding in on Paige, waiting for your chance.”
“Ex-wife,” I said, my voice low, steady. “You threw her away, remember? You need to turn around and leave. Get the fuck out of here before I make you.”
He laughed, sharp and ugly. “Don’t give me that. You’ve been circling her since high school, haven’t you? Always hanging around, jealous as hell because she picked me instead of you. You wanted her back then, and now you’re finally getting your shot.”
I clenched my jaw, fighting the urge to break his nose right there. “What I wanted back then isn’t the point. What matters is she’s not yours. Not anymore.”
His lip curled. “The bar was supposed to be mine. You think I don’t know how much money it makes? My businesses are sinking, and she’s over there building herself an empire that should have been mine.”
The door creaked open behind me. Paige stepped out onto the porch, hair spilling over her shoulders, one of my sweatshirts hanging loose on her frame.
Eli’s face twisted, and he aimed the venom at her. “Figures. You always thought you were better than me, Paige. Turns out you’re just a slut. Spreading your legs for him while your kids are god knows where?—”
That was it.
I stepped forward, fists clenched at my sides, the blood roaring in my ears. “Watch your mouth.”
Eli swung first, and I let him. I wanted him to, so I could hit him back. He was wild and sloppy, but his fist cracked against my jaw hard enough to snap my head to the side. Pain flashed, sharp, but I barely staggered. He came at me again, but this time I caught his arm, shoving him back.
“You’ve wanted this for a long time, haven’t you?” I growled. “Since you first saw me with Paige at the bar, right?”
He swung again, and I didn’t hold back. I dodged it and took my own shot. My fist connected solidly with his jaw, sending him stumbling back a few steps, his boots skidding in the grass.
