I’d get him a bunch of new shirts with my next paycheck, I told myself.
When he finished, he returned to the trunk bed and climbed back in, returning his tools to the box. I shuffled down the truck, keeping the flashlight aimed at him, watching as the raindrops slid down his black hair—still too long—and dripped around him in puddles.
“Get in the truck,” he called out to me, slamming the toolbox shut.
I nodded and returned to the passenger side, climbing in. I slammed the door closed, waiting for him. The rain pelted the roof of the truck, growing harder. Lightning struck in the distance, and thunder boomed overhead.
Jesus, we were in the middle of a thunderstorm.
I twisted my head around, watching as Hunter jumped down. But he didn’t walk back to the driver side. He stood by the truck for a few moments, his head held high, the rain washing over his face.
Something was wrong.
I watched him closely, running my eyes over his shirt now plastered to his skin. Working on the tools had physically strengthened him, made him broader, arms more solid than ever before. I swallowed hard, brushing away the sudden heat I felt. Then he dropped his head and rounded the truck, his footsteps brisk as he suddenly came to my side of the door and yanked it open. My heart jumped at the strange action.
“Hunt?” I whispered in question.
He looked at me, jaw tense. Then he said, “Are you fucking Leo now that you’re living with him?”
My body tightened in surprise. I shivered, but not from the cool rain; no, it was from the glacial look in his eyes as he demanded a response.
“No,” I said quietly.
He studied me for a moment. “Are you lying to me?”
My heart slowed, and I shook my head this time. “No, Hunt.”
“Because you fucked him in the cabin, and you fucked me too, and now you’re living with him—”
I grasped his arm, squeezing it in an attempt to reassure him. “I’m not, Hunt.”
When he didn’t answer straightaway, I asked, “Is that why you’ve been distant?”
He ran a hand along the light scruff of his jaw, his nostrils flaring with whatever distasteful thought he was having. “I’m not trying to be distant, Skye, but…”
“But what?”
He looked down at my hand still squeezing at his arm. “I can’t go back to the way it was. I can’t pretend none of it happened.”
I swallowed, blinking back the emotion behind my eyes. “It was just a few days in a cabin—”
“No, Skye,” he snapped, “this has been brewing since before the cabin.” He sighed, shaking his head now. “You looked atmewhen he took you on that bed, when he fucked you. You staredmein the eyes—”
My body quaked as I looked down into my lap. “Hunter—”
His voice grew rougher as he pushed out, “But when those guys came through, when they threatened you…you looked tohim.”
I shook my head, but words failed me. My chest squeezed, despair edging in because…everything felt fucked.
Hunter backed away from me, shaking my hand off him. He went to the front of the truck and leaned his back to it, crossing his arms as he peered down at the ground.
He was hurting.
Leo was hurting, too.
And I was trying to fix it, trying to mend the split as it tore down the middle, separating them. But I couldn’t seem to do it when Hunter refused to even see him.
I wanted to step out and go to him, to try to bring light to the dark place he was in. But…I felt panicked, unsure of how I could do that when he was right…