Spirit

They felt like they’d be cussing him out tomorrow. He pushed her hand away. The haze was already starting to wear off, letting the ache settle in. “I’m fine.”

“I want to put some butterflies on that cut on your forehead.”

Now that his thoughts were clear, he didn’t want this. Gabriel was probably out in the hallway snickering, planning his next attack. Hunter pulled the gauze away from his head. “I’m fine.”

She grabbed his hand and put the gauze back. “Shut up and take some mothering for five minutes.”

It shut him up, but not because she said so.

Because a memory hit him right between the eyes.

Not his father this time, but his mother. He couldn’t remember how old he was, probably ten or eleven because everything in the memory looked bigger. He’d come home from school with his first split lip and a cut over his eye, and he’d been more scared of how his father would react than of all the bullies in the county.

His mother had dressed his wounds and given him a Popsicle and promised that she’d make sure his father wouldn’t be hard on him.

He couldn’t remember how that had turned out.

But he could remember trusting her.

Hannah was removing the backing from a butterfly bandage. “Doing all right?”

Her fingers were gentle when she pressed the adhesive strip against his forehead, and it was harder than it should’ve been to shake off the memory. “Yeah. Long day.”

“Tell me about it.” She pulled another bandage out of the box.

He’d assumed she was older than Michael, what with the kid and the job and the don’t-take-any-crap attitude, but now, sitting this close to her in the dim kitchen lighting, he realized she wasn’t very old at all.

“How old are you?” he asked.

“Twenty-two.”

“But you have a son,” he said, before realizing that made him sound like a moron.

She must have thought the same thing because she gave him a look and said, “Oh, so they’re not teaching sex ed anymore?”

He felt heat color his cheeks. “No. Sorry—I shouldn’t—”

“It’s fine. People ask all the time. I got pregnant my junior year of high school.” She shrugged. “It happens a lot. I’m lucky.”

“Lucky?”

She put a third bandage across his forehead. “Yeah. My parents are great. I can work and go to school part-time, and they help with James.”

“You go to school? But you have a job.”

“I’d like to be a full paramedic. I’m just an EMT now.” Her hands went still on his forehead, and she met his eyes. “You and Gabriel weren’t fighting over a girl, were you?”

Michael came through the doorway. “Jesus, I wish it were that easy.”

Hunter glared at him around Hannah’s hands. “I told you I’d end up punching him in the face.”

“Yeah, thanks. You left out the part about destroying the foyer in the process.” Michael stroked a hand down the back of Hannah’s head, then squeezed her shoulder. His expression gentled when he looked down at her. “You still want some coffee?”

She turned her head to smile up at him. Her voice softened. “That’d be great. Thanks.”

Hunter watched this exchange and instantly felt like a third wheel.

But he also felt envious, similar to the way he’d felt watching Noah Dean with his mother.

He’d seen his parents like this before, this gentle consideration for each other. Hunter had always believed it, until his father had destroyed everything, dropping a bomb about using women, and every personal relationship being a means to an end.

It meant that there’d never been anything honest about his father’s relationship with his mother.

But worse, Hunter didn’t know what it meant about his father’s relationship with him.

Even now, watching this casual touch between Michael and Hannah, he wanted to examine it and see what each was after.

And of course the minute he tried to decipher it, he erased the magic. Just like Kate jumping into his lap in the Ferris wheel car, it was all a carefully maneuvered ploy. Michael’s hand on Hannah’s hair was a mechanical touch to coerce her to stay, just like her soft voice had been a way to get a cup of—

“Hey,” said Michael. “Are you listening to me?”

Hunter pressed his hands to his eyes. God, he was going to make himself crazy. “No. Sorry.”

“I said I told Gabriel to knock this crap off. He said you were hassling Nick . . .”

That didn’t match what Gabriel had said in the hallway, but Hunter didn’t have the mental energy to figure it out now. “I wasn’t hassling Nick.”

Michael put up a hand. “Nick said the same thing, and then they started arguing, and I just wanted to blow my brains out because I didn’t realize I was living in a juvenile detention center.”

“Nice,” said Hannah.

Michael looked down at him. “Do you think you can make it through the night without breaking any bones?”

“Yeah,” said Hunter.

Michael glanced at her. “Is he fine?”

She looked at him. “Are you fine?”

He shoved out of the chair. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Gabriel was nowhere to be found. Nick was in bed again, reading the same book. Hunter felt like he’d already done this hours ago, though it had only been about twenty minutes.

He probably should have taken a Motrin before coming up here.

“Welcome back,” said Nick.

The funny thing was, his voice had lost its earlier edge. Hunter glanced at him. “Thanks.”

“When Chris was ten, we pushed him down the stairs. This was twice as entertaining.”

Hunter couldn’t tell if he was teasing or not, and it was hurting his head to try to figure it out. “Glad to amuse you.”

“It sure as hell made up for having to work tonight.”

Hunter still wasn’t sure how to take that. He climbed under the quilt on the air mattress and wished sleep would just take him away for a short while. After a bit, Nick clicked off the light, and Hunter’s thoughts started to fade.

Unfortunately, they kept solidifying on Kate, on the feel of her breath against his skin. He kept comparing that to the image of Michael’s hand on Hannah’s hair in the kitchen.

“You still like that Kate girl?” said Nick out of the blue.

Hunter almost choked on his own breath. “She’s all right.”

“She texted me to see if anything was going on this weekend, so I invited her over. Becca will be here, and Layne and her little brother—”

Hunter looked over at him in the darkness. “You—invited Kate over?”

“Yeah.” Nick’s voice was a little challenging. “That okay?”

Hunter told his heart to quit knocking around his rib cage.

Nick had asked her over.

She was probably coming for some sort of reconnaissance or something.

But Nick had asked her. And she’d accepted.

When had this happened? Why hadn’t she mentioned it?

Kate hadn’t texted Hunter all evening. He checked his phone just to be sure.

No messages from her.

He didn’t care.

He didn’t.

He didn’t.

Oh, who the hell was he kidding?

A pillow hit him in the head, and Hunter jumped a frigging mile.

He was so keyed up it was probably a miracle he didn’t draw his gun.

“Easy there, Zen Master Ninja,” said Nick, a wry note in his voice. “I invited her over for you.”

Hunter didn’t move for a moment. He studied Nick’s silhouette in the near dark. “For me?”

“Yeah,” said Nick. “Because seriously, dude, if anyone needs to cut loose with a chick for an hour, it’s you.”

CHAPTER 24

Hunter was hiding in the basement.

Well, not really hiding. He was showing Simon how to break some basic holds. But if he was down here, he didn’t have to see Kate, and he didn’t have to listen to Gabriel’s minute-by-minute jabs. Much more of that, and Hunter wouldn’t give a crap about his promise to Michael—he’d finish what they’d started last night.

Everyone else was out on the back porch with pizza and soda, a scene straight out of a deodorant commercial or something.

He hadn’t started out hiding, but he’d heard the doorbell, the resulting footsteps overhead, and finally Nick’s yell that “everyone” was here.

Hunter said he’d be up in a minute and asked Simon if he wanted to keep working.

That was an hour ago.

If he was being honest with himself, he craved the simplicity of this. Teaching something to someone who needed the skills. No ulterior motive, no elements, no betrayal. Seeing Simon gain confidence as he figured out that he wasn’t powerless at all.

The basement door opened with a rattle and a creak, and Hunter held up a hand for Simon. Light footsteps came skipping down the wooden steps.

Kate? Hunter considered ducking into the alcove beside the washing machine.

Dude. Really.

It was Becca anyway, brown hair long and shining. She glanced between them. “Are you guys going to come up?”

“In a bit,” Hunter started—but Simon was nodding. He mimed needing a drink, then held out a fist for Hunter to bump.

Once he was gone, Hunter hoped Becca would follow Simon, but she remained in the basement, staring up at him.

“What’s up?” he said.

“You tell me.”

He shrugged. “Simon asked me to help him out, so—”

“Come on. Don’t do that.”

This was what he’d liked about her originally. Becca didn’t pull any punches—but she was gentle about it. “They don’t want me up there, Becca. Not really.”

“Nick said he invited Kate for you, and now you’re hiding in the basement.”

Hunter dropped onto the old sofa that sat against the cinderblock back wall. The basement wasn’t finished, but a bunch of old furniture sat down here, and he kicked his feet up on an ottoman with torn upholstery. “I also told Nick she’s a player, and I’m not interested.”

Becca smiled a little ruefully. “I believe that.”

Hunter frowned. “What does that mean?”

“It means I’ve listened to her hit on every guy on the porch. I’m surprised she’s not mounting Casper.”

Oh, good. Just what he wanted to hear.

Becca flopped down next to him.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said. “I’m fine, really. I’m just not in the mood for a party.”

“I know you have a lot on your mind,” she said softly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

She shifted on the sofa until she was looking at him. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

He kept his eyes on the ceiling and tried not to imagine what was going on upstairs. “Shoot.”

“Have you ever been with a girl when you weren’t using her for something?”

She didn’t mean it as an attack, but his shoulders tightened anyway. He turned his head to look at her. “I’m sorry if I hurt you, Becca. I had—it was a lot—”

“I’m not looking for an apology, Hunter.” Her eyes were kinder than he deserved—and maybe a little mischievous. “I’m just saying that you were full of confidence with me, and now you’re hiding in the basement.”

“I’m not hiding.” But her comment was a little too close to what Michael had said last night, about running away.

“You know why I think you’re down here?” said Becca. “Because you like this girl. I think you stand to lose something you might care about, and that scares the crap out of you.”