Night Jasmine (21 page)

With a shaking hand, Hunter reached out and gently stroked Oliver's cheek. His skin was warm. Not cold and clammy as it had been when he'd pulled him out of the bayou.

“Thank God you're alive,” Hunter whispered, brushing the boy's dark hair away from his forehead. “When I saw you there, in the water…”

Tears filled Hunter's eyes and choked his windpipe. He lifted his eyes heavenward, battling for control, finding it but at great cost. “It was so close,” he continued. “Another minute, hell, another second, and we might have lost you.”

Hunter cleared his throat, and looked back down at Oliver's sleeping face. “If you'd died, I don't think I could have made it. I think I would have just…died right there with you. I already lost one boy…I couldn't bear to lose another.”

He smoothed the sheet and blanket, using the opportunity to touch Oliver for the last time, stalling to prolong the moment.

“I've got to go,” he said finally. “I wanted you to know that I do…love you. I never thought I'd say that again, never thought I could feel that for another child.

“I want to stay, Oliver. I do. But I can't. You see…” With the heels of his hands, Hunter brushed at his cheeks, at the moisture he hadn't even known was there. “…I've got these ghosts. And they follow me around. I can't seem to shake them. And I can't be…whole because of them. I can't be fearless.” He sucked in a deep breath. “You and your mom deserve somebody who can be both.”

Hunter bent and pressed a kiss on Oliver's cheek. “I'm going to miss you…buddy. Be good. Take care of your mom. She's a really great lady. I…”

He bit back the words, unable to say them. Afraid that in voicing them, he would feel too much, open himself to too much. And, maybe, lose the courage to do what he had to. He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting for control.

“What's matter?” Oliver whispered. “Owie?”

Hunter opened his eyes to find the boy looking sleepily at him. Hunter stiffened, working to compose himself. He forced an easy smile. “Hey, Tiger. What are you doing awake?”

“Don't know.” He yawned. “Where Maman?”

“On the phone with your
Pépàre.
She'll be right back.”

“Why look so sad?”

“I'm not sad.” He smiled again. “You're going to be all right. That's happy news.”

Oliver lifted his hand to Hunter's, resting on the bed rail. He curled his little fingers around Hunter's larger ones. Hunter's breath caught and he returned the gesture, clinging to Oliver's hand. “You really gave us a scare,” Hunter murmured, bending low over the bed. “Don't you do it again. Okay?”

“Not s'pposed to go down to bayou alone.” Oliver yawned again, fighting sleep. “Maman's mad.”

“No,” Hunter whispered, stroking his hair. “She was really frightened, though. So was I. But she's not mad.”

Oliver's eyelids drooped.
“I…gla—”

“Me, too.”

“Love…you…”

Oliver's fingers relaxed and slipped from Hunter's. For one long moment after the child was again asleep, Hunter continued to hold his hand. Then he gently released it and tucked the blanket around him.

Bending, Hunter pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Goodbye, Tiger. I…remember what I said. Okay?”

* * *

Aimee hung up the phone and went back to Oliver's room. She found Hunter beside Oliver's bed, gazing down at their son. Her heart turned over.
Their son.
How wonderful that sounded to her, how warm; yet what a mockery it was.

She drew in a deep, shuddering breath, and pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes. Exhaustion pulled at her, as did leftover fear and a sort of hopelessness. She dropped her hands to her sides. “We need to talk, Hunter.”

“Yeah, we do.”

“Outside?”

He nodded and followed her out to the hallway. There, she drew another deep breath and faced him. “I can't go on this way.”

As the words passed her lips, Aimee acknowledged surprise. She hadn't meant to say those words, in that way. They'd just popped out. And now that they had, she couldn't go back. She didn't want to.

“I love you, Hunter. But I can't go on the way we have been. Not knowing. Living on hope.”

He tensed. At his sides, he fisted his fingers, as if waiting for a blow.

She crossed to him, stopping so close she smelled the sweat of fear on him, the scent of the bayou. She would never forget this moment, would always associate those smells with a biting sadness.

Tipping back her head, she met his eyes. “You were right. I've been hiding from life. Licking my wounds and feeling sorry for myself. Avoiding life because I hurt. Avoiding living so I wouldn't be hurt again.”

She shook her head. “I can't go on that way. Not any more. It took almost…losing Oliver to make me see how precious life is. Every moment. I've been throwing it away. For nearly four years now.”

Aimee reached up and touched Hunter's cheek lightly, then dropped her hand. She wanted to hold him, wanted his arms around her. They'd almost lost their son. They should be holding one another right now. Clinging to one another.

Instead, they were saying goodbye.

She searched his gaze. What would he do if she
did
turn to him now? she wondered. Would he be able to give her the support she needed? And if Oliver had…died, would Hunter have been there for her? She thought of their history, thought of the way they'd gazed at one another in the ambulance, and she shook her head.

It wasn't in him. Maybe once, a long time ago, but not any more.

Sadness moved over her. If she were to have a man in her life, she needed one she could lean on. And she needed one who would lean on her.

“Aimee, I—”

“No.” She reached up and laid her index finger gently against his lips. “No apologies or excuses. No dialogue. Just tell me what you feel for me.”

For long moments he gazed at her. “I don't want to say, Aimee. I don't want to hurt you.”

And he would hurt her, Aimee realized, the last glimmer of hope dying inside her. Then there would be nothing left for them to say. And no reason for him to stay. The coward's way—for both of them—would be to just …let it go. But she'd done that before, and it hadn't been final enough. She'd continued to hope.

Aimee inched her chin up. “I need to know, to hear, what you feel for me.”

He caught her hands and brought them to his chest. Beneath them, she felt the thunder of his heart. When he spoke, his voice was filled with regret. “I think you're the most special woman in the world. I can't imagine turning and walking away from you, although I know…” He let the thought trail off and pressed her hand closer against his heart. “You make me…happy, Slick. You make me forget.”

“But that's not love,” she whispered, her voice thick with tears. “That's not enough.” She swallowed against the emotion choking her. It took every ounce of her courage, her strength, to voice what she knew she must. “I know you don't love me now, but do you think…someday you…might?”

She saw the answer in his eyes. But it wasn't enough to see, to know, he had to tell her it was hopeless. If he didn't smash her hopes now, she might not be able to let him go. And to go on, to build a new life for herself and Oliver, she had to let him go.

“Today I almost lost Oliver. You almost lost Oliver. Our son. How did that make you feel?”

“How do you think?” Hunter exploded, then lowered his voice. “When I saw Oliver…in the water…I felt like my heart was being ripped from my body. Is that clear enough?”

“No.” She eased her hands from his and crossed back to Oliver's hospital room. She peeked through the window at her sleeping son, then looked back over her shoulder at Hunter. “Do you love Oliver? The way a father loves a son? As much as you loved Pete?”

“My God, Aimee…” He dragged a hand through his hair, his expression stricken, trapped. “Why are you doing this?”

Aimee stared at Hunter. He didn't, she thought, her heart turning over. He never would. She brought a hand to her mouth, hurt moving over her in ever increasing waves.

He was going to leave her. Leave Oliver. It was over.

She made a sound of pain, and turned back toward the tiny window and her son beyond. How could he not love Oliver with his whole heart? After everything, how could he not love her? He didn't have a heart, she thought, anger pushing at her hurt. He preferred loneliness to living, preferred alienation to love.

This time, she wasn't going to just let go, Aimee thought angrily. This time she would say what she felt.

She swung back around, meeting his gaze furiously. “In the last weeks, you pushed me, Hunter. You badgered and bullied me. Into facing my feelings. My fears. Into facing life.” She shook her head. “You pushed me to rediscover the woman I used to be, you pushed me to dream again.”

She crossed the hall to stand before him once more. “What about you? You've been running, hiding, a lot longer than I have. From everything. Now you're getting ready to run from my love. From Oliver's. And from the way you feel about us.”

She shook her head. “We could be a family. We could be happy. But you're too wedded to your own pain, your own misery, to have anything to give someone else. Why are you doing this, Hunter?”

“I'm sorry, Aimee.” He took a step toward her, reaching out a hand, touching her cheek. “That I can't love you. That I can't give you what you need.”

Aimee jerked away from his caress. “It's not that you can't. You won't.”

Her eyes welled with tears, and she fought them back. “After today I can understand some of your pain. When I thought I'd…lost Oliver, the pain I felt…I can't even describe it. It felt like I had died, too.

“But understanding your pain doesn't change the fact that I want, that I deserve, more than a dead man. Deserve better than a man who's given up on life to avoid pain. All along you've been saying that to me. And you were right. But all along I thought I could bring you back to life. Just as I believed four years ago. If you'd let me. But you wouldn't let me then, and you won't let me now. And I'm not going to try any more.

“I want you to leave, Hunter. I've said that before but hoped you would stay. Not this time. I'm done living on hope. Unless you're willing to live and love, I want you to go.”

For long moments they gazed at one another, then without speaking he turned and walked away.

Chapter Eleven

H
unter set his garment bag beside his car, then crossed to the gallery, where Roubin sat, a box of tangled lures in his lap.

He squinted up at Aimee's father, moving his gaze over his face. Today Roubin had almost lost his grandson. The experience had aged him. Hunter understood only too well how it could; he would never be the same either. “A bit hot to be sitting outside this afternoon.”

“Me, I am used to the heat.” The older man motioned to the garment bag. “You are going some place?”

Hunter climbed the steps, the carefully packed music box in his hands. “The time has come for me to go home.”

“Pardon?”
Roubin drew his eyebrows together as if he had heard incorrectly.

“My patients need me,” Hunter replied, shifting his gaze to a point just left of the other man's shoulder. “My partners need me. I've been gone too long already.”

“I see,” Roubin said, clearly not seeing at all.

“Oliver's going to be fine,” Hunter rushed on, uncertain whether needing to reassure himself or the other man. “There's been no apparent damage. He might have a fear of the water, but some children escape without even that.”

“And what of you,
mon ami?
” Roubin asked softly. “How are you going to be?”

Hunter looked back at Roubin, surprised. “Me? I'm fine.”

“Then why do you leave this way?”

“I told you, the time has come to go back. I've been away too long.”

“Non.”
Roubin shook his head. “You can not go. Not like this. Aimee, she needs you. Oliver, your son, he needs you.”

Hunter looked away, his chest unbearably tight. He fought for an even breath. “You don't understand, Roubin.”

The older man snorted. “Aimee, too, she tells me I don't understand. All the time, she tells me this. What good is living to be an old man if no knowledge, no sight, comes with the age.
Le bon Dieu,
I do not think he has us grow old only to wither and die.”

Hunter worked at a smile. He wondered if the curving of his lips looked as stiff as it felt. “I told you, I'm not a religious man.”

Roubin inclined his head. “Yes, but those are words only. They are not what you believe. They are not what you feel, in your heart.”

Emotion tightened in Hunter's throat once more. “I'm no good for her, Roubin.”

“You and Aimee, you love each other. When there is love, how could it not be good?”

Hunter shook his head. “You're wrong. Sometimes it's bad. I have nothing to give her, Roubin. I never had.” He tipped his face up to the cloudless sky, to the heavens beyond. “I wish I did.”

Roubin snorted once more. “You are afraid. Because of what happened to your wife and son. You are afraid to feel too much. I can understand this, yes. But it is time to let go of the past, just as you advised me to do.”

The image of Pete flew into his head, then the image of Oliver, floating facedown in the water. Oliver, his face blue from lack of oxygen, his heart and lungs still. Hunter sucked in a sharp breath, feeling as if he, too, was suffocating. As if he, too, had stopped breathing.

He had to go. He couldn't stay.

Hunter stiffened his spine and took a step away from the older man. “I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt her. Or Oliver.”

“Then why are you?” Roubin demanded.