It's About Time (Hunt Family #5) (2 page)

Chapter 2

Evan again.

More than two years later.

Evan casually mentioned that he'd like to be considered as a model for Nico's dad's clothing line when they were at the beach house a couple of years before, and his life hadn't been the same since.

His mom and dad had just confronted him about growing up and being a responsible adult, and the embarrassment he felt as a result of that conversation lit a fire under him. He decided right then and there to make some major life changes. It started that very day on the deck at Dee-dee's, and he had been working non-stop to achieve his financial goals ever since. Maybe they were more his
dad's
financial goals and not his, but Evan found that he didn't mind having a cushion in his bank account—a cushion that had grown exponentially since he began contributing to it.

His priorities had not shifted completely, however. Evan's main goal was to find a way to make money while continuing his environmental work, and he had been able to make that possible through modeling.

His genius, precious, wonderful sister helped him immensely when it came time to get his foot in the door at the mid-size, upscale, athletic clothing company called Square Root. She came up with an ad campaign and pitched it to Pepe Torres (Nico's father) via conference call with his somewhat intimidating team.

Her idea was to run a "Where's Evan?" campaign that would put him in exotic locations wearing their clothes. The company's social media would post spoilers from each photo shoot, and followers would try to guess where he was.

It helped, mind you, that the clothing happened to look like it was designed specifically with Evan in mind. He had long, gorgeous hair with the perfect amount of beachy, surf idol waves. It was brown but naturally sun-kissed at the ends and in the front. He had just enough tattoos to seem a little dangerous, but not too many that he lost his appeal to the girl next door. Evan was an obvious choice for the company's high-end, chic, athletic wear, and by the end of Mia's schpeil, Pepe and the rest of the team were happy to offer Evan the job and ready to get started.

As a result of this hugely successful ad campaign, Evan's modeling career had taken off. He had since done campaigns for Sanuk, Levi's, J. Crew, and Ralph Lauren, among others. He moved to L.A., but he maintained a simple lifestyle and tucked away almost all of the money he made. He kept his relationship with the EOC and managed to fit in environmental work between his modeling jobs. Ironically, he was more beneficial to the EOC now than he was when he worked for them full-time. He was open about his passion for the environment, and the popularity he had gained through his modeling exposure was a beneficial platform. During the last couple of years, the EOC had gained hundreds of contributors and volunteers as a result of the exposure they got through Evan.

Life was good. Evan was saving money while still living simply and making time to contribute to the causes he was so passionate about. He worked hard, but he had been blessed with a few open doors along the way, and he always walked through them.

Up until the morning of September 6
th
, he was living the dream.

What happened on September 6
th
, you ask.

Well, that's when the dream Evan was living became a nightmare. One minute, he was on his way home from the gym, and the next thing he knew, it was three days later, and he was waking up in a hospital bed. Evan knew he had turned his motorcycle on its side to avoid t-boning into a car at full speed. He remembered brief flashes of the crash and the ambulance ride that followed, but the next time he fully regained consciousness, days had passed.

His parents had already flown in from Carolina and had been at his bedside for two days before he woke up. He had broken both bones of his lower leg and suffered a concussion, but by God's grace, there had been no internal damage.

Evan didn't see the scars on his leg or face right away. He knew something was wrong because he could see the bandages on his leg and the stitches on his cheek without even looking in a mirror. His mom had explained its appearance to him, but a full day had passed by the time he worked up the nerve to look at it. There was a 4 or 5 inch gash on his face that went over his eyebrow and down onto his cheek. The surgeon said Evan was lucky to have his eye and that the wound should heal nicely.

"By nicely do you mean it will completely go away where I can't see it anymore?" Evan had asked when the surgeon first told him that.

The surgeon laughed as if Evan had surely been joking. "You'll always be able to see it," he said. "I just wanted to assure you that it will be significantly lighter and more flexible than what you see here now."

Then it was Evan's turn to laugh. "I hope so," he said. "Because right now, I look like something from a horror movie."

"Evan Michael, you do not," Christy said protectively. She reached up and touched the other side of her son's head tenderly just to demonstrate how unfrightening he was.

His doctors kept talking about how lucky, and fortunate, and blessed he was, but Evan had a hard time seeing it that way. They told him he could have easily died, and in those first few days, it almost seemed to Evan like that might have been easier. He was in a lot of pain. His lower left leg was broken in a few places, and the top part of it had trauma to the soft tissue. The hardest pill to swallow was that he had been making money with his face, which was now permanently scarred. Waking up in the hospital and the days that followed were some of the lowest of Evan's life. He left there feeling like he had drawn closer to God in his soul-searching, and that he had more soul-searching to do.

Mia and Nico split their time between California and Carolina, and Evan had been renting their guesthouse in Los Angeles. Evan's mom stayed there with him for a while when he first got discharged, but she needed to get back to her responsibilities back east.

Two weeks after the accident, Evan traveled back home to Carolina with his parents so that his mom could help him through the rest of his recovery. He wasn't supposed to bear any weight on his leg for the first month, so he had to travel with crutches, which was a hassle.

Aside from a visit to the orthopedist and physical therapist, Evan stayed locked up in his parents' house for the next month. The scar on his face had healed significantly, but Evan was still getting used to seeing it there every time he looked in the mirror. His means of earning a living for the past two years had been making sure he looked perfect, and there he was with a big, imperfect scar running across his brow bone and upper cheek—not to mention several scars that ran down his left leg.

Evan hadn't been ready for anyone besides family to see it (especially his agent). It had been six weeks since the accident when it finally hit him that he needed to get out of the house and back to his life. He wasn't quite sure what that life was, but he knew he couldn't stay locked up in his parents' house forever.

He had been in touch with his agent but had refused to send any photos of his scars until "they healed". Several times, in moments of frustration, he almost called the agency to tell them he was done, but he did his best to stay positive, hoping that the ever-fading line would disappear completely. As of six weeks later, it hadn't. So Evan decided to accept it for what it was and show his face in public. He hadn't quite worked up the nerve to send photos to his agent, but he set up a breakfast date with his grandma to get his feet wet facing the world. Okay, so she had to beg him, but at least he had agreed to go. It was a step in the right direction.

"Hey Dee-dee," Evan said, reaching out to hug his grandma as he came to stand beside her.

"You look so handsome," she said. Her voice came out like she was squeezing him hard, but she was extremely gentle when she hugged him.

Evan smiled to himself, knowing she was afraid she'd hurt him if she hugged him tightly.

She patted the barstool next to her, but then regarded him like she changed her mind about asking him to sit there. "Actually, I was just sitting at the counter while I waited for you," she said. "We can grab a table if that'd be more comfortable."

It was a small, local breakfast place named Amy's Express. They specialized in biscuits, and were only open each day until noon. There weren't many tables, and it was usually packed, but being that it was ten o'clock on a Monday, a few places were open.

"I'm okay, sitting up here," Evan said, settling onto the barstool next to his grandmother.

"How's it feel to get out of the house?" she asked.

"Fine, I guess," Evan said, smiling at her. He glanced at his leg. "Feels good to have that cast off."

"I'll bet it does," Dee-dee said sweetly. "Well, you look wonderful."

"Thanks."

She put her hand on his.

"I'm serious, Evan. You look like a million bucks. Your scar looks tough on you."

He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "That's what Mom says."

"Because it's true."

"Hey, Evan," a girl said, coming to stand in front of them.

He turned to face her, feeling a bit surprised that she knew his name. She was roughly his age, and she was smiling straight at him like they were old friends, but he could not place her. He smiled back, but felt slightly confused.

"Y'all want a few minutes to decide what you're having?" she asked, mostly focusing on Evan. She smiled at the way he was looking at her. She had dimples. "I already know what Dee-dee's having," she said, "so, you just holler at me when you decide."

"I will, thanks," Evan said.

The girl continued to smile as she turned and crossed the front of the kitchen to get back to her busywork. Evan was just about to face Dee-dee with a confused expression when she turned back and looked over her shoulder. "Your scar looks good on you," she said in the same tone his sister would use when she complimented his shirt or shoes.

"I'm sorry?" Evan asked, still feeling confused about who she was.

"Your scar," she said, gesturing to her own eyebrow. "It looks good right there—makes you look tough." She smiled at him as she turned to walk away.

Evan instantly looked at his grandma with a perplexed expression.

"Annabel Riley," she said, knowing what he was wondering.

He shrugged, looking as confused as ever.

"She's been working here for years." Dee-dee whispered. "Her grandma's Amy. Annabel went to beauty school and has been working with your sister and Paige for a while now—at least a year. She does real well with Paige. She just helps out around here on her off days." Dee-dee tilted her head to the side and stared at her grandson with the same confused expression he was wearing. "I thought you knew Annabel. She's been around the family for years. You two probably even went to high school together."

"We did," Annabel said with a smile from over her shoulder as she dried and stacked glasses.

This caused Evan to cut Dee-dee a glare for talking too loud before running his hand through his hair.

"You're a few years older than me, so I'm not surprised you don't remember." She threw her towel over her shoulder, and walked slowly toward Evan and Dee-dee with an easy smile.

"Yeah, but you've been working at the salon for…" Dee-dee trailed off and cocked her head at Annabel. "…How long, now?"

"Almost two years."

"Almost two years," Dee-dee repeated as she shifted to look at Evan.

"You've been a busy man," Annabel said, standing in front of him with a smile.

She had on a plaid shirt that had been tied in the front. Her hair was piled on the top of her head in one of those big buns girls liked, and she had flour all over herself. It was on her pants, her shirt, and there was even some on her face. She was adorable, and Evan stared at her, wondering how in the world he didn't remember those dimples from high school.

"He went off and moved to the big city and got famous like his cousin."

"I'm not famous like my cousin," Evan said glancing downward.

"You're pretty famous," Annabel teased. He glanced at her to find that she was smiling right at him. "There's a female at the table in the corner who might run over here any second," Annabel said, leaning over the bar to speak quietly to him. She tried to keep her mouth still when she said it, and Evan smiled at her poor ventriloquist skills. "Don't look over there now," she continued in that same
out of the corner of her mouth
way. "She's looking riiiight at you."

She smiled stiffly at Evan, and he couldn’t help but reach out and pinch her adorable cheek. She was just too cute with the way she was talking all funny like that.

"You pinched my cheek just now," Annabel said, pulling back to stare at him like he might have lost his mind.

"I know," he said, smiling. "I couldn’t help it. Your mouth was all twisted up when you were whispering, and it was just cute."

"You're not gonna think it's cute when Jemma Richardson comes over here and attacks you like she's about to do right now."

The last part of Annabel's sentence was delivered so quickly that Evan was expecting Jemma Richardson's embrace when it came. This was someone he
did
recognize. Jemma was his same age, and they grew up together. She was popular and had run in Evan's circles.