Chapter 22

 

She’d managed not to go to him, knowing it would only make things worse. She’d even convinced herself to stop crying, even as she heard the roar of Troy’s truck as it pulled out of the driveway. He needed his space.

Space to wonder how he managed to marry such a whore.

The thought stung like a whip, and she cursed under her breath. It was too easy to think that way, to sink down into despair, but one thing kept her from doing it. The reason her husband was driving down the road at that moment. The truth he wasn’t ready to confront yet.

A familiar ringtone sprang to life, Hunter’s crooked smile popping up on the screen. She took a deep, shaky breath, picking up her phone, willing herself to salvage a shred of composure. He didn’t need to know she’d likely just blown her marriage into a million tiny pieces.

“Hi, Hunter!”

“Hey, Lacey.” His voice had an odd flat note to it.

“So, what’s up? You bailing on watching Hayden tomorrow?” Her Mom was bringing him back later that night, and she couldn’t wait to hold her son in her arms again. Being away from him that long had left a nagging ache in her heart that nothing else could soothe.

She needed her baby boy.

And the truth was, it probably would be a blessing if their friend canceled. Maybe seeing Hunter anytime soon was not the best solution for the dumpster fire she’d just made of things.

“It’s over.”

Lacey looked at her phone, unsure she’d actually heard it. “Um, what?”

“Called from Tampa. She’s not coming home.” He grunted, the bitterness and hurt she heard in the sound like a dagger to the gut. “Sending movers to pack up her stuff next week, I guess.”

“Oh, Jesus, Hunt…”

“I… maybe part of me knew it was a lost cause, you know? I mean, I know I should be raging and breaking shit, and… I just feel numb.”

Lacey didn’t have the heart to tell him what she felt. For while she hurt for him — and she knew it would be a while before the full weight of the break-up would begin to weigh on him — the dominant emotion she felt? It was relief.

For everyone.

You’re being selfish. Stop thinking about you for one fucking second.

“Hunter, I’m so sorry. I… it makes me sad to hear this, but… I’m not shocked, either.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She almost whispered it, needing to be gentle with him. “I could see this coming… for a while. I’m sorry.”

“Would’ve been nice if you’d shared your, whatever it is — feminine intuition — with me. If you saw this coming, why didn’t you say anything to me?”

“That’s not what I mean, Hunt—”

“Christ, you told me to tell her.”

Ah, shit.

“Now, wait — that’s not fair. I didn’t tell you that to make things worse. I told you to tell her that because she needed to know.” The words tumbled out of her mouth, and as soon as they were away, she was wincing inside. “Would you be better off living a lie?”

He grunted. “That’s supposed to be my decision to make, isn’t it?”

“It is — I mean, it was.” She rubbed her forehead. “Shit. What I’m trying to say is that—”

“It’s fine, Lace.”

Oh, but it wasn’t. She could feel it, a sinking, roiling weight in her belly. They’d never once fought. They’d never so much as exchanged cross words — and the feeling was absolutely awful. She hadn’t a clue what to do at that moment, finding herself in truly uncharted waters.

Neither one of them said a thing, the line growing heavy with the awkward tension. Her mouth was dry, her tongue practically sticking to the top of her mouth.

“Look.” He made a frustrated sound. “Lacey, I need to—”

“Hunter, I’m sorry. You’re right. This… isn’t about me. It’s about what I can do for you. I’m… here for you. Whatever you need, okay? I mean it.”

He mumbled something she couldn’t quite make out, then sighed heavily, his voice listless. “I better go. I don’t… want to make things worse. Fighting with… yeah, I need to go.”

“Hunter, wait a—”

Then the line went dead.

Lacey looked at her phone, shaking her head in disbelief.

“Shit!” She scrunched her eyes shut, pounding the phone’s screen against her forehead. “Lacey, you’re like the fucking wrecking ball!”

* * *

 

 

The collection of beer bottles at their table was somewhere between impressive and embarrassing.

Green, purple, and red neon flickered overhead, and thankfully the music was about as low as one could expect in a dive bar on an early December Thursday night.

Maria, their cute, dark-haired waitress, didn’t even ask them anymore if they wanted more beer. Bless her heart, she just kept bringing them, and they kept drinking them.

Hunter was sprawled back along the bench side of their table, his arms extended along the top of the seat. Troy leaned forward against the back of the red vinyl chair he’d reversed before sitting in it. It wasn’t even sticky against his forearms, something for which he intended to tip Maria generously for once they’d had enough for the night.

“Troy… um, Lace and me. We had a little tiff, I guess.” Hunter wiped his forearm along the tip of his nose, for some reason not wanting to use his fingers to scratch the itch.

Drunk logic.

The ex-Ranger, despite the prodigious amount of alcohol he’d already ingested, miraculously seemed almost sober. The lines in his face, especially around his eyes, took on a craggy appearance under the low, flickering glow of the neon. He looked worn — and a little lost.

“What did she say when you told her the news?” Troy tried not to blurt it out, unsure in his well-oiled state exactly how much his voice was carrying. Not that anyone in that shithole would be listening.

“I was kind of a dick to her about it. I think she was trying to comfort me.” Hunter scrubbed his face with a palm, looking up at the ceiling as he shook his head. “I was a little bitch, to be honest with you. Butthurt about how she’d worded what she was saying. I’m embarrassed as fuck, actually.”

“Forget about it. I’m going to go out on a limb and guess.” He tipped his beer bottle toward his friend. “She wasn’t exactly, ah, broken up about it?”

Hunter leveled his bleary-eyed gaze at him. “How the fuck did you know that?”

“I know my wife. Trust me, Hunt, if I had to guess, I’d say she’s been beating herself up ever since about it.” He set his bottle down. “Because she cares about you, probably more than you know. And she isn’t the only one.”

“You gonna get fucking mushy on me?” Hunter grinned. “I’m not that drunk, you prick.”

“Fuck you.” Troy drained the rest of his beer. “Point that matters here is this: we are here for you. You want to go out and get blotto? Call me. You want to crash with us for a few days? Call me. You aren’t on a solo mission here. No way, no how.”

“What if I wanna track down Sara and beg her to take me back?”

“Walk alone, friend.”

Hunter laughed, slamming his beer down on the table as he held a hand up to his face, as if he might spew his mouthful of brew. “You asshole.”

“You deserve it for saying something that stupid — joke or not.”

His friend’s expression sobered a little, the lines around his eyes deepening again. “The shit thing, and I didn’t even get the chance to tell Lace this.” He grunted, slowly spinning his bottle in his hand. “It’s actually a relief. I don’t know how it’s possible, but even though I feel like I just had my balls pulled out through my throat, it’s a goddamned relief. What the fuck does that mean, dude?”

“It means you forget about her — as soon as fucking possible.”

The idea seemed to materialize in his mind from nothingness, like the appearance of the shoreline, emerging from a coastal mist.

You fucking idiot.

It was insane. Maybe the most insane thing he could possibly entertain, especially now while his best friend sat across the table drowning his sorrows.

“The last thing she said, Troy. I still can’t believe this shit. It was like she hadn’t already ground my nuts under her heel. She gets all quiet — just like she always does when she’s about to give me one of her little truth bombs.”

Troy rolled his eyes. He knew the exact act. It made Lacey want to kill Sara anytime the woman went into self-important, know-it-all mode.

“She says: ‘I could never be what you think you need me to be. I can’t accept what you want to do — what you are. You need help, Hunter, not a more adventurous wife.’”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah — dagger.”

The truth was the phone call from Hunter had been a relief to Troy too — for a different reason. It had allowed him to avoid thinking about what Lacey had told him, about what it meant for their future.

He had always suspected, and what was the most mystifying thing — and probably the most fucked up — was that it didn’t bother him. Quite the opposite. If it were any other man, he’d be swallowing a mouthful of broken teeth after Troy got done with him.

But not with Hunt. What did that mean?

The idea was still there, still taking on shape, its definition becoming clearer — and more twisted — by the second. Did he have the balls to do it?

It might have been crazy, but it did have a sort of internal logic to it.

Letting him touch her — really touch her — would help clear up a few things.

First and foremost, it would let him see if there might be anything waiting at the end of a potentially long and winding — and insane — journey. Was there really something there? This would ferret it out with a quickness.

More importantly, hatching something like this would be a test for him. Could he even let another man touch her? The thought, from a fantasy standpoint, was hot as hell. He had no idea why, but it was. Maybe it was the power of handing over — and sharing — your toys? Maybe he just wanted to see how another male might handle her lush, yielding body? The point was — this would help him find out if there was anything to it, or if that was something strictly for fantasy only.

White Valley might have really been a place straight out of a dominant man’s dreams, but that didn’t mean hard, cold reality wasn’t a factor. Some things just didn’t translate well in real life.

The fact was, if she agreed to the move, there would be other men touching her. And eventually more than just touching.

He truly wasn’t sure he was ready for that yet, but if it was going to work with anyone, Hunter was the best test subject on the planet to find out.

Hell, it might even be fun.

There was one thing that was as clear as day now. If a move was going to happen, he was going to have to make a deal with his wife.

If the pieces came together just right.

Troy cleared his throat, leveling his gaze with his friend’s. “Hunt, I’ve got a crazy idea. Just hear me out on this… because I think you’re gonna like it.”