Page 20 of Heart of Stone
He nodded, but I could feel the tension radiating off his body. Apparently he was having a hard time trying to act casual too. “I made no promises. Not saying that this isn’t twisting me up inside, Street. Cuz it is.”
A rare confession of feelings from Hunter was hard won, and this one was particularly hard because I missed him badly. Not talking to him for a week was sucking the wind from me. Talking to him now was keeping me just as breathless.
“Who is he?”
A dry laugh shot from my mouth. “Should I write down his address so you can go stand on his porch and glower at him?”
“Nope, just making sure you’re not hanging out with a bad element.” A smile turned up the corner of his mouth. “But I guess just about anyone who isn’t me is a step in the right direction.” He extinguished the joint on the porch step. “Just want to make sure you’re safe, Amy. Old habits die hard.”
“Tell me about it.” I tossed my keys on my palms, weighing just how much I wanted to tell him. “He’s got money, but I’m not sure what his business is. Just like I have no real idea what you and your brothers are doing. All I know is he treats me well.” I looked over at him. His profile with his straight nose and long dark lashes was always heartbreaking. It somehow made him look more innocent, hiding all the ugliness he’d been through. “He treats me like I matter.”
He faced me. His eyes flickered with something, an emotion that I’d rarely seen in his expression. “Don’t fucking sit here and pretend you don’t matter to me, Street. Justdon’t.”
I wrapped my arms around my knees to hold myself tighter. There was no damn way I was going to cry in front of him. We both fell silent.
I looked out at the other houses with their neatly trimmed lawns and thoughtfully planted hedges. It was no wonder everyone looked the other way. “Sometimes I think our crappy childhoods stunted our growth. Our asshole fathers are gone, but they both still have control of us. We never grew past what happened in these houses. We never allowed ourselves to say— hey I survived and dad is gone and good fucking riddance.”
Hunter stared down at the ground. “Sometimes the memories are so tightly wound around my throat, I can’t even take a decent breath. Colt, Slade and I were living in hell.”
“And I wasn’t? Sure, my dad wasn’t nearly the monster that yours was, but he was pretty fucking low on the fatherly love scale. So don’t try to bottom out your upbringing, Hunter, because I’m still dealing with my fun.” I waved toward my dark, pathetic little house where my mom slept in her drug stupor.
He reached back to the cut on his head. “Yep, the stitches in my head remind me of that.”
“Didn’t you go back to the doctor to get them cut out?”
“Nah. Slade’s going to cut them out tomorrow.”
I remembered, then, about an unexplained wound on his arm that Jade had mentioned. I could still see the gauze under his shirt. “What happened to your arm?”
“It was nothing. Something that happened on the job.”
“The job. Right.”
“See. I live a sketchy life. That’s why I’m not worth the bother.”
I shook my head. “Hang on while I go get my violin, Mr. Woe is me.” I released my legs and leaned my hands back behind me. “I’ve decided I’m done being held hostage by my past. I’m going to clean up my house, maybe paint it, and I’ve decided to have someone fix the engine on my dad’s boat.”
“Why? Are you going to start fishing?”
I rolled my eyes. “I can sell it and use the money to fix up the house. My dad left us with some bitter memories, but he also left us with a house and boat. I’m moving on.”
“With some guy who has cash in his pocket and treats you well.”
“Nope, I’m moving on alone, and if I find a nice guy in the meantime then that will be the frosting on top.” I stood up. “I’ve been waiting for?—”
He gazed up at me, and I lost the words for a second. It was him. I’d been waiting for him to come around. But he hadn’t.
The light on our front porch turned on. My mom was up. I stood up, but before I could walk away, he took hold of my hand.
I couldn’t bring myself to look down at him as he gripped my hand. Or as he spoke. “I’m not going to lie, Street. Nothing is right without you. Feels like the ground beneath my feet is giving way, but—” His words were interrupted by the squeak of his front door.
A tall brunette walked out dressed in just a t-shirt andpanties. I was pretty sure her name was Shelly, but I didn’t care enough to puzzle it out. “Hunter,” she said sweetly, “aren’t you coming back to bed?”
Now I turned to face him. He kept a grip on my hand and stared up at me as if a half-dressed girl hadn’t just asked him to return to bed. I yanked my hand free and ran across the weed covered yard to my house.
As I put my foot on the first step, our screen door popped open.
“Off my porch!” I heard my mom’s voice but didn’t see the garden shovel until it glinted in the light. As I covered my head to block the end of the shovel, I squeezed my eyes shut to brace for the imminent blast of pain. But it didn’t come. Heavy footsteps pounded the wood steps and a thudding sound followed.
