Just Three Words (Soho Loft Romances) (34 page)

When Samantha awoke on the couch the next morning, with Elvis curled into her side, a quick glance at Hunter’s room told her she’d not come home at all. Her spirits sagged, but she was no less determined to figure this thing out.

*

“Do you want to talk about it yet?” Mallory asked, as Hunter poured a cup of coffee for herself and slid the one she’d already poured to Mallory.

“Nope,” she answered resolutely. She had to hand it to Mallory; the nicer loft certainly did come with some awesome water pressure in the shower. She wore a borrowed robe and, with her hair wet, helped herself to breakfast in Mallory’s gorgeous fifteenth-floor kitchen. “But I do enjoy these croissants. I didn’t know people kept croissants in their homes. I thought that was more of a restaurant/bakery scenario. Go you.”

Mallory slid into her suit jacket, which had been resting on the settee. Yes, Mallory had a
settee
. “Yep. Me and my croissants, rockin’ the world.”

“I want to be just like you when I grow up.”

Mallory shot her a look. “And you can start now. Dean and DeLuca sells fresh rolls. All kinds. The world’s full of exciting discoveries, isn’t it?”

“That it is,” she marveled, tearing off a piece of the croissant and closing her eyes at how awesome it tasted. Bread was dependable and temporary. Thereby, she loved it.

Mallory came around the island and went about loading her electronics into her attaché. “This hyperbolic, I-don’t-care-about-anything veneer is going to fade away at some point soon, right? I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but it’d be nice if you found a way to acknowledge it. You didn’t even want to go home last night, Hunter.”

Her eyes met Mallory’s, and she felt her resolve crumble a bit. It was best she not think about it. She’d rather not revisit that very raw and painful wash of emotion that had her walking the streets until late last night. But it had been when she’d finally settled in on Mallory’s couch that the real torture had begun. Because, as she lay there in the dark, she thought of the heartbreak Samantha had gone through because of Libby and the heartache she was experiencing now because of Sam. She’d stayed away from relationships her whole life for a reason, and now she was acutely reminded of what a bad idea they really were. She’d left herself emotionally vulnerable to someone, and regardless of whether it had been intentional or not, she felt like her heart had just been ripped out. And as much as she vowed in this moment to never let herself be that kind of vulnerable again, she also mourned the loss of what they’d had. And for that, she ached as she lay there, at times unable to catch her breath, it hurt so much. Because what she’d found with Samantha was rare and it was wonderful and it wasn’t something she ever wanted to give back. But at the same time, she knew she had to. Call her a coward, but she preferred realist.

Hunter stared at the counter as she considered what to say to Mallory, what sort of explanation to give. “You were right, is all. Sam and I were a bad idea from the start.”

“Doesn’t mean I want either one of you hurt.” Mallory wrapped her arms around Hunter and held on. Tears threatened at the support she felt emanating from Mallory, her friend, but she pushed them back “You gonna be okay today?” Mal asked.

“Of course. Aren’t I always?” Mallory passed her a dubious look and she relented. “Fine. Yes, I’ll be okay. Just, maybe, give me some space at work. I plan to just zone when I get there. Get things done.” But the truth was, she wasn’t sure she’d be okay at all. This was all so new to her. The emotional equivalent of being hit by a truck. Why did people sign up for this again?

“And the two of you?”

“She and I are friends. We’ll get past it.” Hunter inclined her head to the door. “Speaking of which, I’m going to head downstairs and change clothes. I’ll see you at the office in fifteen?”

“You will. I work there.”

Hunter kissed her cheek. “I thought that was you. Thanks, Mal. For everything.”

In reality, she’d purposefully waited this long to head downstairs knowing that Sam would already be up and gone for the day before Hunter arrived. It was childish, but it felt like a game of self-preservation at this point, so she could live with the stigma.

After selecting a pair of slim fitting jeans and royal blue graphic T-shirt, Hunter slipped into work, intent on keeping her head in the game and her feelings on the back burner. Time to get back to who she used to be.

She ran her palm across the stickers on her MacBook and, with a quick motion, had it opened and primed for her first project: a tweaking of the half-page ad she’d designed for Foster’s extra crunch peanut butter. The rep had asked for a more vibrant orange, and a more vibrant orange he would get.

“Hey. I was worried about you. You never came home.” Sam stood at her desk. The look on her face was so incredibly earnest, that Hunter had to remind herself of the facts and fight the urge to take that face in her hands. That’s how fucked up her feelings were.

Instead she kept her eyes on her screen. “I slept at Mallory’s. It was late. Didn’t want to wake you.”

Brooklyn swiveled in her chair. “Sam sleeps like the dead. Trust me. I’ve tested this theory. You’d have been fine.”

Hunter opened her mouth to answer Brooklyn, but Samantha pressed on, undeterred by Brooklyn’s presence. “You stayed out because you didn’t want to talk about what happened.” Completely true. She headed to the kitchen to refill her coffee and escape the line of questioning. Mallory looked at her curiously from where she worked at the kitchen table, but Samantha was on her heels. “And you still don’t apparently, but I do. I want to talk about it.”

“Another time,” she said, turning to face Sam and dropping her tone.

“Why are you avoiding this?”

“Look, I don’t want to do this here.”

Sam looked at her in exasperation. “I’d rather not either, trust me. But this seems to be the only place I can. You don’t answer your phone, you don’t return text messages, and you haven’t been home since yesterday. You haven’t left me with a lot of options.”

“Maybe you two could take a walk, get some coffee?” Mallory offered, sympathy written all across her face. Hunter didn’t need sympathy right now. She needed to get back to work and not think about this.

“Nope. Not necessary. Everything is fine.” She looked at Sam. “It’s fine. I promise.”

“What’s going on?” Brooklyn asked, now coming around her desk. “You guys had an argument?”

Samantha turned to Brooklyn and rattled off the facts. “Hunter walked up and saw me kissing Libby. We haven’t told you this, but we’ve been seeing each other. Kind of.”

“You and Libby?”

“Me and Hunter.” Samantha turned back to Hunter, clearly on some sort of communication mission she wasn’t about to give up. So much for not letting things between them interfere with work.

In the midst of it all, Brooklyn tilted her head to the side as if Samantha had just explained that caterpillars were the source of all evil in the world. “I’m sorry. Did you just say that
you two
are dating?”

Hunter raised a finger because that wasn’t exactly correct, now was it? “Sleeping together, more like,” she corrected. “As in, past tense. So no worries, Brooks.”

Samantha stepped to her, eyes flashing anger. “Stop it. Right now. I know you’re hurt and I get that, but ‘sleeping together, past tense’ is a little crass. You have to agree.”

“I don’t have to agree to anything.” Suddenly, Hunter was smiling through sarcasm. Not exactly behavior she felt proud of, but everything seemed wildly out of control, and feigning indifference seemed safe. “The love of your life has flitted back to you, Sam. You should be ecstatic, not worrying about me.”

“Wait. So Libby wants you back now?” Mallory asked, coming around the table.

“Yes,” Sam said to Mallory before turning back to Hunter. “And I’m not ecstatic at all.”

“And why is that?” Hunter asked. She hated that she allowed herself to go there, but a part of her had to know. “It’s exactly what you wanted.”

“Because you and I have things to sort out. I can’t believe you’re being so cavalier.”

It was how she protected herself. It had worked her entire life until she’d let her guard down with Sam. She just wouldn’t let herself get caught up this way again. That kind of thing wasn’t for her. Hunter shook her head. “We don’t have to sort anything out, Sam, we’re okay. I promise. Friends. Business as usual. I want you to feel free to live your life and not worry about me.”

“You got hurt yesterday. I get that, and I’m sorry. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t see what this is, take the risk. I’m willing to do that.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not.” She headed back to her desk.

“What about April?”

She shrugged and turned back, not following the logic. “What about April?”

“Brooklyn told me about your feelings for April, and maybe that’s part of what messed with my head yesterday.”

Hunter passed Brooklyn a look only to have her stare back in complete mortification, as if watching some sort of horrific tennis match. “I didn’t know,” she mouthed.

Hunter didn’t feel the need for any sort of grandiose confession. “April is not a part of this. Trust me.”

“Of course I trust you. I’m just trying to understand the complete turnaround because of a moment in time that didn’t even matter.”

Mallory faced Sam. “If I had to guess, I would imagine that April was code for another name.” And then to Hunter, “Am I right?”

Hunter shrugged, refusing to commit. Her feelings at this point were hers to deal with. Why complicate things further? She was willing to— “Oh my God, you were talking about Sam,” Brooklyn said as much as to herself as to Hunter. She pinched her nose between her eyes and then turned to Mallory. “Wait a sec. Why aren’t
you
surprised by any of this?”

Mallory, who looked about as uncomfortable with the question as Hunter had ever seen her. “Because I was aware of the situation,” Mallory said delicately.

“That’s just perfect,” Brooklyn said, tossing a hand in the air. But it was clear that it was Samantha she felt most betrayed by. “You told Mallory and not me?”

Samantha seemed to soften. “You’re not great at keeping secrets, Brooks, unless they’re yours.”

“That is wildly untrue,” Brooklyn said, pointing at Sam. “Did I tell anyone when Mallory slept with that Lisa girl junior year? Or when Hunter was late with the menswear layout and I ran interference with the client so Mal wouldn’t find out?” The three of them stared at her in shock. “Okay, maybe I see your point, but this is different. This is your life, Sam. I would have never betrayed a confidence.”

Samantha closed her eyes. “I know. I’m sorry.”

And as the two of them continued their back and forth, Hunter’s phone buzzed in her pocket. Anything to escape the uncomfortable chaos around her, she checked the readout. Kevin. Without hesitation she answered the call. “Kev, hey.”

His words came out in a rush; the panic in his voice was evident. “Claire said to call you. The ambulance just left and they said they’re not getting a response. The sirens are on and they’re hurrying. They think it was a massive heart attack or something. We’re driving there now. We were shopping and it just happened.”

“Okay, slow down for sec, okay?” She covered one ear and moved away from her friends as they quieted around her in response to her movement.

She could hear her sister’s voice in the background, shrill and fast. “Hunter, you need to get here!”

Oh, Christ. She squatted onto her heels, as if doing that would somehow make her be able to understand better. A million thoughts raced across her mind in succession. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go down at all. Her father was an asshole, but he’d been trying. There was supposed to be time for her to work through some things, right? What if she didn’t get that chance? But now wasn’t the time. She needed to focus. “What hospital are you going to?”

She heard Kevin consult with Claire. “Kettering Medical Center,” he came back with.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can get a flight. Okay, Kev? I’m on my way.”

Claire was on the phone now. “Hunter, it didn’t look good. I’m freaking out right now. I don’t know what to do.”

“Take some deep breaths, Claire. Dad’s a stubborn guy. He’s gonna fight hard.”

“Hunter.” A pause. “It’s Mom. Mom’s in the ambulance. Mom had the heart attack.”

She replayed the words, and the world went white.

She swallowed as her arm and the phone returned to her side. Her friends were asking her questions, but she couldn’t quite make sense of the words. It was like a tidal wave had hit and there was no way to get out from under it.

She needed to get to Ohio.

Hunter arrived at the hospital just before midnight and studied the signs to find the Intensive Care Unit, where her mom had been taken. Her sister and brother-in-law were in the waiting room looking haggard, older somehow, their faces pale and eyes red. She could see nurses move about the nurse’s station through the window to their right like a swarm of very efficient bees. One looked up and laughed at something another had said. Just another day at work. The room smelled of disinfectant and coffee. All of these things hit her at once like some kind of sensory overload, forcing her to grab hold of a nearby chair for momentary support.

But she was here. Despite ticket confusion and delayed flights and annoying passengers who insisted on blocking the aisle once they’d landed, she’d arrived.

And she needed information.

“Hunter,” Claire said, jumping out of the daze she seemed to have slipped into.

“Is she okay? Is she alive?” Hunter asked. The two most important questions. And then her sister’s arms were around her, which made the tears she thought she had under control fall unencumbered down her face as terror licked up her spine. “Please answer me, Claire. God, please.”

“She’s alive, but barely. I don’t know what to do. Dad’s wandering around. Kevin’s sitting on the curb, refusing to come in, and I feel so helpless. I’m glad you’re here.”

“What’s the update on Mom?” she asked her sister. The rest could wait. She distantly registered her brother-in-law coming around and squeezing her hand.