After We Fall (13 page)

Even though Hunter says he doesn't care about me going out every night of the week, I still text him before I leave work to let him know where I'll be tonight. Or maybe I'm texting him because he truly means it.

With a groan, I wait for his reply.

Hunter:
Great bar. Safe place. Ask for Patricia and tell her Hunter sent you.

Me:
Patricia, huh? Should I be jealous?

Hunter:
Only if jealousy makes you horny.

I can't help but laugh. This is nothing like the conversations, text or otherwise, I ever had with Penn during our marriage or while we secretly dated. Everything I said or texted was carefully worded in order to provoke him the least.

Me:
Very funny.

Hunter:
Is that a yes or no?

Me:
Really?

Hunter:
It's really important and could save a life, specifically my sex life.

Me:
-.-

Hunter:
Is that your horny face? Very cute.

Evangeline:
Omigosh. No! Stop.

Hunter:
Only teasing. I like your O-face much better.

The reminder that he has in fact seen my face as I orgasm multiple times makes me blush and wince. I feel silly, happy, and…nothing else. While I will date Hunter and even sleep with him, my heart belongs strictly to me.

Me:
Talk to you later.

Hunter:
Count on it. Have fun.

On the way home, I take a chance and call my sister, Zoe. I figure with all these new steps I'm taking to shed my past, I should attempt to make my family a part of my future.

My palms grow slick as I wait for her to pick up the phone.

“Eva?”

I almost want to cry at the sound of her voice. “It's me, your favorite baby sister.”

“I'm so happy to hear from you,” she says, her tone genuinely filled with happiness.

“Me, too.” I swipe at the corner of my eye. “How are things?”

“The usual. Super busy with writing books and chasing after your nieces and nephew,” she says cheerfully.

“I saw the pictures you posted on Facebook. They are getting so big, even Miss C.” My heart aches to hold them, to receive sticky kisses and hand-drawn pictures. “They probably won't recognize me by the time I'm able to get home.”

“Oh, please. They know exactly who you are.”

“I'm in Forrestville, north of Charlotte, not out west like I told Momma,” I blurt.

“Omigosh, Eva. Are you okay?”

“Yes. I've…I'm finally fine.”

“Can we come see you?” my sister asks.

I want to say yes. I'm dying to say yes, but I can't force myself to say the word.

“It's okay if you're still getting settled. That can take awhile.”

This is exactly why I love my sister. She's genuinely kind and caring, and doesn't insist on things her way. Well, not until you've made her mad, or snoop through her stuff. “Thanks. I promise that once things get settled, I'll come clean and yell surprise. Think Momma and Daddy will go for that?”

“Uh, I don't see why you couldn't try that approach.”

“But I shouldn't hold my breath, huh?”

Zoe laughs. “Something like that.”

“I'm in a much better place now.” I don't know why I have to let her know this, but apparently my mouth is in gear and my brain won't stop it. “For a while, I was depressed and—ashamed of what happened. With the divorce and all.”

“Don't be ashamed, Eva. You can't force someone to get better or change.”

I let her words wash over me, soothing old wounds that have refused to heal…until now. “You don't know how much that means to hear you say that.”

“And you don't know how much it means to hear your voice.”

I glance out the window, tears falling down my cheeks. “Do you have some time to talk?”

“Hang on,” she says. I hear her say something to my brother-in-law. “I'm back. Christian said he would take the kids with him so we can have all the time you need.”

“Thank you.”

“What else are big sisters for?”

Bohannon's is a lot more crowded than I expect it to be on a Thursday night. Or maybe I haven't been in a bar in so long that I don't know what or if any night is ever slow for one.

I like it, though, because it seems more like a place to hang out and eat than a place to get shit-faced and go home with the wrong person.

Saylor grins at me over her glass of cherry Coke. She had the bartender shove half a jar of real cherries in before she was satisfied. The guy took it in good stride, but honestly, who couldn't be nice to a woman wearing a tight-fitting, glittery
Spaceballs
T-shirt with a rather raunchy quote from the movie printed on the front. The fact that she's got big boobs doesn't hurt things, either.

“How are thing in Hunterland?” Saylor asks.

“Peachy.”

“Are y'all an item now?”

I squirm a little on the barstool. “Yes.”

“Why do you look so embarrassed about it?”

“Why do you ask so many questions?” I return.

Saylor rolls her eyes, her glasses sliding down her nose. “Because you say nothing.”

“I say plenty.”

“Plenty's not enough for me. I need more girl talk.”

Saylor looks so sincere that I want to share everything with her, including my time with—

“I know this is none of my business as your boss, but as your friend…and no judgment, but when I interviewed you, you mentioned a husband. So…um, you and Hunter?”

My mouth opens and closes as I flounder for an explanation. “We're separated.”

“Oh, good,” she chirps. “Because I was totally judging you for being one of those types who takes a perfectly good single guy while she already has a man.”

A sort of strangled noise leaves my mouth.

“Kidding!” She winks at me. “Did I ever tell you about the time that I answered a personal ad and it turned out the guy was a professional cuddler? I had to pay him for hugging me good night.”

“That's a thing?”

“A big thing, apparently.” She uses two fingers to pull a couple of cherries out of her glass and pops them in her mouth. “Reason number two hundred I suck at dating. If I could just find a guy who wanted to bypass all of that and get married, I'd be set.”

“You want to get married?”

Saylor gives me an odd look. “You don't think I'm the marrying kind?”

And now I've hurt her feelings. “No,” I say slowly. “I thought you wanted to share all your cookies first.”

“Oh, no.” She shakes her head. “I'm saving all my cookies The One.”

“You believe in The One?”

“Don't you?”

“I used to, but then I married a narcissist asshole who thought beating me up was a perfectly acceptable way of expressing his love.”

Her brown eyes round. “I'm sorry.”

“I can't believe I just told you that. Exactly two other people know—Hunter and Piper.”

“Piper, as in our landlord's wife?”

I nod. “Yeah, she's also the owner of a women's shelter.”

“Is that how you met?” Her voice is low and thankfully the music isn't so loud that I have to speak up in order to be heard.

“Yes. Hunter, too. He was one of the cops who found me…on the side of the road and helped me.”

Saylor's lips tremble. Then she launches herself at me, wrapping my body up in a hug so tight that I can barely breathe. “I'm so sorry that asshole hurt you. I hope they cut off his balls in prison and make him eat them. Also, Hunter is for sure your One. The other guy was an imposter.”

Awkwardly, I pat her back even as warmth washes over me. “I think that's the nicest thing I've ever heard.”

Saylor lets go of me, her brown eyes filled with tears. “Sorry for bringing up your past.”

“Don't be. Without my past, we would never have met.” While some may think that's a rather morbid way to look at things, I'm tired of living in darkness, of being a perpetual victim who allows her husband to still control her. Darkness is only the absence of light and I refuse to keep living there. “You're a really good friend.”

Saylor bites her lip, a shy smile on her face. “I'm honored to be your friend.”

“Okay, enough about friendship.” I catch a trio of guys looking our way. I'm not in the market, but I can make the best wingwoman ever for Saylor. “How about we let those guys talk to us?”

Saylor peers around me. “I'm okay with that.”

Apparently, they must have heard us or seen Saylor's boobs, because the next thing I know, those guys join us at the bar. Automatically, I take a step back, but then Saylor does the sweetest thing ever.

She takes my hand and announces, “This is my very best friend, Evangeline, but she's only interested in conversation.”

Only she doesn't stop there.

“Plus, her boyfriend, the cop, is sitting in the corner with another cop.”

“He is?” I crane my neck, nearly giving myself whiplash, as I try to find him. “I didn't see him come in. I didn't even know he was going out tonight.”

“Conversation is good. I can maintain a six-foot distance at all times,” one of the guys quips.

I smile, even as I continue to look for Hunter. Why didn't he bother to let me know he was here? Is he spying on me? Maybe he really didn't mean what he said about going out, but he had been the one to suggest that I have a girls' night out with Saylor.

Finally, the hostess moves from the middle of the bar, taking some patrons with her, and I catch a glimpse of Hunter.

He toasts me, lifting his glass of beer.

I hold up my glass of seltzer water.

Then he goes right back to talking to the man sitting across from him.

I gasp.

“What's wrong?” Saylor asks.

“Hunter isn't even coming over here.”

“Is he supposed to?”

“Well, we are surrounded.”

“Six feet of distance here,” that guy reminds us.

Saylor giggles. “I think I like him.”

“He's your type for sure.” I frown. Doesn't Hunter care that I'm surrounded by guys? I would care if he were surrounded by women.

“You know, the reason Hunter could be sitting over there instead of joining us is because it's a girls' night out and he wants you to have fun. And because he trusts you,” she adds.

Penn never trusted you,
I reminded myself. Penn cut my friends out of my life so quickly that I can't remember a girls' night out. Yet, some stupid needy part of me craves a show of possession from Hunter.

God, I'm so messed up.

“I'm sure you're right.”

“We can leave if you want,” she says, and the six-foot-distance guy groans.

“Is it possible to have a girls' night out in my apartment?” I ask, hopeful she will say yes. Maybe I'm a coward for leaving, but I'm also struggling with my feelings for Hunter. I should not be this concerned over what he thinks.

“Yeah, it is,” six-foot-distance guy says.

“You're not a girl,” Saylor reminds him, batting her lashes behind her glasses. “But you can give me your number.”

As I wait for the two of them to exchange numbers, I keep an eye on Hunter. He and his guys'-night-out date are eating nachos and talking rather intently. Not one time does he look my way again.

I cross my arms over my chest, wanting to stomp my foot.

“Oh, this is ridiculous.” Uncrossing my arms, I force myself to act like a twenty-six-year-old instead of a six-year-old.

“Ready,” Saylor sings out, looping her arm through mine. “We can order delivery on the way home.”

“Maybe ogle Chris Hemsworth in
The Avengers.
”

“A good one, is your plan.”

“Learning, I am.”

We burst out laughing at our Yoda impressions. “You're totally a Rey Kenobi, Saylor.”

Saylor beams at me. “That is the nicest compliment anyone's ever given me.”

“I hope you find your Finn one day.”

She snorts. “More like I'd end up with a Kylo Ren.”

“Sometimes even bad boys can turn into a Finn.”

“Finn was a bad boy. He belonged to an entire family of bad boys, until he decided it was time to grow up and take a stand.” She sighs. “Too bad fiction isn't true.”

So that's what she wants—a bad boy turned a good man? That doesn't sound too out there. Except I know all too well how a good man can be the disguise for a monster.

It's almost eleven p.m. when I hear Hunter's familiar footsteps on the stairs. Saylor went home an hour ago, claiming she was ready for bed, while I've been doing nothing but pacing.

Thinking.

Deciding.

His keys jingle and I open the door, jumping out into the hallway like a madwoman. To his credit, he doesn't flinch.

“Took you long enough.” He jingles his keys again. “Wasn't sure how long I had to stand outside your door.”

“You were doing that on purpose?”

He flattens his lips and gives me a look. “Am I normally this loud?”

I laugh awkwardly. “No. Okay, good talk. Night.”

He grabs my arm. “Not until you tell me what's in that head of yours.”

“Nothing.”

“Then why did you leap out into the hallway?”

He has me there. “I thought I heard an intruder?”

“And you planned to do what to stop the intruder?”

“Yell for you?”

Shaking his head, his mouth curves into a smile. “Just admit it.”

“Admit what?”

“That you missed me and that you should have come over instead of running out of Bohannon's like a scalded dog,” he points out.

Outraged, I pull out of his grip and cross my arms. “I did not run.”