Wanderlust

“I know men can be stubborn sometimes, always thinking they know what’s right for us. It’s damn annoying, that’s what it is.”

I gave a watery laugh. It was a little funny, that everything she said was so true…and yet hopelessly irrelevant to us. Hunter and I weren’t in a real relationship.

“I don’t think it’s the same,” I tried to offer by way of explanation. “As you and James. You seem so happy together.”

“We are.” Her gaze darkened with remembrance. “It wasn’t always that way though. There were some bad times.”

I was tempted to ask what they were. Not out of morbid curiosity. I wanted to see if they were anything like mine, either back home or with Hunter. I wanted to know if there was hope for me.

“How did you know?” I asked instead. “How did you know everything would be okay when things looked bad?”

“I didn’t.” She thought for a minute. “I guess at some point I found faith, in myself, in the world. Hunter helped me with that.”

Hunter helped her with faith? Shock ran through me, but then I remembered the rosary that hung in his truck. Was he religious at some point? Was he still? And if so, why the hell was he doing this? This wasn’t even a puzzle piece. It was the torn off edge of one. A hint of something broken.

I opened my mouth to ask her what she meant exactly, but just then Billy ran inside. He begged for a snack from Laura who insisted he wait until dinner. James and Hunter followed. James stood behind Laura and gave her a wraparound hug that hurt my heart to see. It was like someone had taken a picture book and made it real. Exactly the opposite of my life right now or ever.

I stiffened when I felt Hunter come up behind me. He slipped his arms around my waist, mimicking James’s actions. It felt like a mockery, and tears stung my eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered.

“Like you care,” I muttered, my voice wavery.

“Don’t be mad,” he said, and I hated that he said that. I hated that I responded to that inside, softening a little. The truth was, I didn’t like to be so full of rage and fear. It was like carrying around poison inside me, infecting me worse than the world around me. It was a relief to loosen the valve and let a little bit out. I sank back into his embrace.

His arms tightened on me. “That’s my girl.”

James and Billy began to set the table while Laura gently chastised them for their rough handling of the dinnerware.

I shut my eyes against the wholesome sight. “Why are you doing this?” I whispered.

I didn’t expect him to answer me. He never had before. But I felt the tension that ran through him and was reminded of that jagged piece of the puzzle.

A burst of laughter pulled my attention to the family settling down at the table. Laura looked over at us, clearly happy to see us linked this way.

“How long are you planning on staying?”

The question was directed at both of us, but we all knew she was asking Hunter.

He was quiet a moment, then he said, “I’m not sure. Not too much longer, I think.”

The phrasing was strange with a special weight on the words. I got the idea that he wasn’t answering her but me. Why was he doing this? He wasn’t sure. And the one always at the tip of my tongue: how much longer would he keep me? Not much.

Which was exactly what I wanted, so there was no reason to feel disappointed.

Laura’s pretty face fell. “Oh, but you two should stop by again on your way back through.”

The way back? That implied that Hunter had a home somewhere and Laura knew where it was. It implied we were going somewhere and would return. Hunter must have felt me tense, because he squeezed my hips gently.

The timer went off and Laura pulled the steaks out of the oven.

Hunter turned me in his arms. His eyes were clear in the waning afternoon light of the kitchen, and Laura had been right—he looked happier. I remembered how he’d been in the diner, mysterious but also…scary. Intimidating. And kind of sad. Laura seemed to think the change was due to me, and I couldn’t really be sure. It shouldn’t matter to me if it was true, but it did.

He pushed my hair from my forehead and pressed a kiss there. “Are you okay here? Do you want to leave?”

His solicitousness felt at onc

e foreign and comfortable. He was a little crazy, swinging back and forth between cruelty and kindness, but I sensed that the former was an act, a meanness he forced on himself as much as me. This seemed natural, and I decided to embrace it for the night. Ironically, he would be himself for once, and I would be the one playing a role.