Eli nodded. “So go get her.”
Hunter touched his son’s cheek, awed by the love and support Eli was offering.
Chapter Eighteen
Josie stared at the arrivals and departures board. The green digital letters were updated as flights came and went. She’d been sitting here for hours. She’d been boarding, in line, bag in hand, but she couldn’t leave.
Now she sat, staring at the screens, trying to figure out what to do next.
Hunter believed the worst of her.
Eli didn’t want her in his life.
Amy was back in Stonewall Crossing.
But her father was getting married.
Her best friend in the whole wide world was right here.
And she was finally writing and painting again.
Could she find a way to be here without Hunter? Could she coexist without feeling that jolt of awareness whenever she saw him? Or smile when she heard his name mentioned? Could she bear it if he moved on, finding love and a family?
She felt nauseous and rested her elbows on her knees. She loved him. She loved him more because he accepted his son at his word, even if it destroyed the only glimmer o
f happiness she’d ever really had.
If she left... She could move to New Mexico. She’d sign on as one of the Institute’s resident artists and teach. She’d write and paint when she had time. So pretty much every evening. It would be a regular job, which she didn’t necessarily need but would keep her occupied. The biggest perk was the location. It was the closest alternative to the Texas Hill Country and Stonewall Crossing.
She sighed and sat back, feeling an idiot all over again.
This was home. Why go someplace else like it when she could stay here with the handful of people she actually cared about?
It was almost ten o’clock. Tomorrow was Christmas morning. She could spend it with her father, watching him open the framed painting she’d done of Sprinkles. She could watch Lola open the scrapbook supplies she’d purchased. And the gift certificate to a naughty online adult store for Annabeth that was a joke—sort of.
From the corner of her eyes, she saw movement. It was pretty quiet, so she glanced over to see the new arrival.
It was Hunter.
Her breathing accelerated.
He was talking to the ticket agent, too far away to hear. The agent shook her head, no doubt apologizing. Hunter kept talking, and the agent kept shaking her head.
He was here. Was it too much to hope he was coming after her?
She watched, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, as he stepped back from the ticket agent. His hands rubbed back and forth over his face, and he let out a sigh that seemed to deflate him.
He tried again, clearly agitated now. But the ticket agent didn’t budge.
Hunter glanced around, the shadows under his eyes visible from where she sat. His gaze traveled over her quickly, almost blindly, before he froze.
She couldn’t move.
He strode across the airport terminal, bag in hand, staring at the tile floor, heading directly for her and the row of joined chairs she’d occupied for the past few hours.
He sat beside her, glancing at her.
She glanced at him, fighting against the smile that bubbled up inside her. “Where are you headed?” she asked.