Thanks to You Page 4

  My first attempt to talk is fruitless, and I have to clear my throat to make the words come out. “You look beautiful.” My voice breaks and comes out husky and filled with desire. I feel like a teenager seeing a hot girl for the first time.

  Mackenzie’s face flushes a flattering rosy red, and she looks down in embarrassment. “Thank you.” I strain to hear her words she breathes out.

  I see movement on the stairs and catch my sister shooting me a knowing grin. She starts making kissy faces and crude gestures as if we’re back in middle school, so I go back to ignoring her. I finally get up and walk over to Kenzie, offering her my arm.

  “You ready to go?” I wonder if she’s as nervous as I am.

  She grips my bicep, and it’s tentative and shaky. She merely nods in response to my question. I’m not used to this side of her. I need to loosen her up, make her feel like the comfortable and confident girl I saw earlier.

  I open her door to my car and close it behind her. So maybe I stare at her ass as she climbs into my jet black BMW. I’m a guy — sue me.

  She remains quiet as I turn the key in the ignition. “Where do you want to go to dinner, Squirt?”

  I gave Kenzie that nickname as a kid when she was a tiny little firecracker following me around everywhere. Now when I call her Squirt I’m only wondering if I could make her do it.

  Her cheeks redden again but for an entirely different reason. I know she hates it when I call her that — she always has. But it brings out her feisty side, and it’s a huge freaking turn on. And honestly, sometimes you just have to poke the bear.

  She takes a deep breath and turns in her seat to face me. a sexy, devious smile is playing on her pouty, red lips. “Surprise me, Micro.”

  I cock my head, not sure I’ve heard her correctly. “Micro?”

  “Yeah, well, I saw your dick this morning, and I thought the nickname fit.” She’s haughty and so proud of herself. My jaw drops. Game on, Kenzie. Game on.

  ***

  I take her to our favorite hole-in-the-wall café. The setting is intimate with tiny white lights strung throughout. A large bookshelf lines one entire wall, though books are scattered throughout on all the tables and other shelves. Customers often borrow a book while they sit to eat and some even donate from their own used collections. There’s a variety of tables, ranging from high-tops to benches to couches and even some beanbags.

  It’s self-serve so we won’t be bothered by a waiter the entire time. Plus, this time of year they make the most to-die-for pumpkin pie. Kenzie, Hailey, and I used to come here all the time as kids, and I’m hoping the nostalgia works in my favor.

  “So tell me, why did you want to take me out to dinner, anyway? I lost, shouldn’t I be treating you?” She asks as we wait in line to order.

  “It’s not like we’ve never gone out to dinner before.” I’m trying to act cool and casual, but I’m afraid I just sound like a dick. This is new territory for me with her. I don’t know how to explain my feelings when I don’t even understand them myself yet. They sprung on me out of nowhere, and I’m trying to get a grasp on them.

  “Yeah, but we’re always with Hailey or your parents or something, so it doesn’t count. It’s never just been us two. This is almost like a date or something.” She blushes at the word date. It’s endearing how naïve she can be.

  “Oh, sweetheart, it’s not like a date, it is a date.” I look down at her. The color already present on her cheeks deepens, and she starts tugging on her scarf like she’s trying to get some air. It’s adorable.

  “Oh.” A breathy exhale so sweet and quiet it takes me by surprise. Hell, everything this woman does knocks the wind right out of me.

  I’m finally starting to accept the fact that I have feelings for her, and they’re already stronger than I would’ve ever imagined possible in such a short time. I have so many reasons I should push her away. It’s not right — I’m six years older than her, and she’s my little sister’s best friend. She was always like another annoying kid sister to me. But seeing her now, experiencing her intelligent wit and sass, I can’t deny it and frankly, I don’t want to.

  When it’s finally our time to order, she gets a burger with fries and a chocolate milkshake. If there’s one thing I’ve always loved about a girl it’s one who can enjoy food. We all know that three pieces of lettuce with dressing on the side isn’t filling anyone up.

  I get the same thing she did, but with a strawberry milkshake, and I make sure to order two slices of pumpkin pie because I’m selfish and don’t want to share.

  We claim one of the more secluded tables at the back of the café. I sit catty-corner to her, This allows me to pretend I’m accidentally bumping my knee into hers when in reality, it’s entirely intentional.

  We sit and eat in near silence. She’s quiet and contemplative, and it’s frustrating the hell out of me. I need to know what’s going on in that pretty little head of hers.

  I make painfully obvious small-talk and ask her about school and her graduation plans. She asks me about Jolie, and I chuckle every time she calls her Cujo. We discuss everything we’ve missed over the last few years, but the conversation is stilted. Suddenly, the realization hits me in the face.

  She got like this during our second game of pool — she wanted a rematch — when my phone rang and she caught a glimpse of the caller ID. “You can take that,” she told me in a hard, stiff tone. It was Alison calling. I still haven’t dealt with that whole issue. Obviously, I ignored the call but now it clicks that the Alison situation is likely what’s bothering her.

  “What is it, Kenz?” She drops the fry she’d been nibbling on and wipes her greasy fingers on the napkin in her lap. “It’s me, you can talk to me. You know that.”

  “Can I? I feel like I don’t even know you anymore. It’s been years, Hunter. How can I trust you? You call this a date, but you were engaged all of five minutes ago and you’re still in contact with her.”

  She doesn’t say any of it in a way that comes off as jealous or petty, nor is she angry. She’s simply curious and I can’t say I blame her. If the roles were reversed I’m sure I’d be curious too. And also wildly jealous.

  I sigh heavily because I know I have to tell her. She deserves an explanation. If I want a future with her, if I want her to feel secure in the possibility of there being an us, I need to tell her everything.

  Chapter 8

  Mackenzie

  I hold my breath and wait for Hunter to respond. Maybe he’ll be so pissed he’ll just get up to go home and leave me here. I’ve already ruined whatever this is before it even started, and I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact he called this a date. I don’t want to get my hopes up, but the idea gives me butterflies.

  But I’m too curious about what exactly caused the rift between him and Alison. What broke them up? Did she end things, leaving him heartbroken? Was it mutual? Did he dump her? And why is she calling him? Does she regret the breakup and want him back? Can’t say I blame her.

  I pick at my food. The stress is making me eat despite not being hungry. He stands up, and I figure this is it. He’s leaving me. Good thing these boots are comfortable for my trek home. Maybe Hailey will come get me. Although considering he’s her brother, she’ll probably take his side. Shit.

  “What?” Hunter is standing over me, staring at me. I’ve been too lost in my own head and I completely missed what he said.

  “I said, let’s take the pie to go. I don’t want to ruin my pie with that story. I’ll tell you everything, I promise. Just…not here.” He grabs take-out containers from the counter and we walk side-by-side in terse silence to the car. He carefully places the pies on my lap and walks around the car unhurriedly. No doubt he wants to postpone this conversation as long as possible. He eases into traffic, and I sit still and quiet, patiently waiting for him to open up to me.

  “We were together for five years. We met at our college graduation. We never saw each other before then because the school is so big, a
nd we had very different majors. I was going for engineering and she was going for education — we never even crossed paths. But that one moment was all it took. She was tenacious. Everything about her was infectious. It was a whirlwind. I wanted to do everything right — graduate, propose, then get married and start a family.” His hands tighten around the steering wheel, his knuckles going white. His husky voice is low and strained. I have to lean in to listen closely and ensure I don’t miss anything.

  It sounds like he still loves her. The painful way he speaks about her makes it seems like he’s a grieving widower never meant to move on. So what the hell happened and why isn’t he with her? I keep my mouth shut because I’m dangerously close to saying something I’m bound to regret.

  He clears his throat before continuing. We’re sitting at a red light, and I’m staring at the side of his face because he won’t look me in the eye. I think that’s the real reason he waited until we left the café to tell me. In there, he had nowhere else to look but at me.

  He’s pensive, and maybe he’s so lost in his memory that he doesn’t remember I’m sitting next to him. “She got pregnant two years ago. I was terrified but happy, so I proposed. Not just because it was the right thing to do but because I wanted to. I loved her. I loved our son. We were going to name him Sawyer.”

  Something about his statement catches me off guard. They were going to name him Sawyer? Oh, no. My heart is breaking for him, and I simultaneously feel like an ass for forcing him to recount this story before he was ready. But there’s another part — a small, selfish part of me — that’s almost jealous of Alison because she carried a part of Hunter in her. They created a life together. I know I’m being selfish, and I hate myself for even thinking it.

  I wipe my eyes and sniffle as I listen to his story. I can tell he’s trying to compose himself so I reach my hand and rest it on his thigh. He flinches and looks at me as if only now remembering I’m here. I squeeze gently, offering unspoken support. His eyes are clouded with sadness while mine continue to burn with more unshed tears.

  I feel helpless. There is no way for me to console him or fix this. I can’t even begin to imagine what it felt like going through something so traumatic.

  He takes a few minutes to collect himself before continuing. We’re driving at a leisurely pace, in no rush to get anywhere.

  He runs a hand through his hair and down to grip the back of his neck. He rubs at the knots in his neck, craning it from side to side until I hear it crack.

  “We were in the last trimester and something just … went wrong. We still don’t know what happened, and I think that’s the hardest part.” His voice has changed now, hardened, as he forces himself to go numb. He’s protecting himself from feeling and experiencing the loss all over again.

  “They had to induce her for a stillbirth. She didn’t want drugs. I thought she was punishing herself unnecessarily. She claimed feeling the pain would help her grieve. God, it sucked.” He lets out a hard chuckle that completely lacks amusement. It’s a sound of pain and anger, of disbelief.

  He shakes his head like he’s trying to erase all the bad memories. Briefly, he glances over at me, but just as quick he returns his focus on the road. “You can’t come back from that. And we tried. Boy, did we try. We stayed engaged. We fought for one another like hell. Or so I thought. One day we just … stopped. It’s not something you can simply move on from and forget about.” He smashes the steering wheel with his right hand. I wipe away the tears trailing down my cheeks.

  “We started arguing over everything. I destroyed the nursery, and she hated me for it. She started blaming me … we were never the same after that. How could we be? Then”— he scoffs angrily, a nasty, humorless grin forms on his face — “I come home one day to find her in bed — which wasn’t uncommon those days — but this time she wasn’t alone. I couldn’t touch her but there she was, screwing her coworker in our bed. She tried to tell me, ‘Don’t worry about him. He’s just a friend.’ Right. So, I left.

  “We went through some of the most difficult, unimaginable stuff together. There’s history there — deep, dark, heavy history. I hurt for her and us, for Sawyer. But I don’t love her anymore. I don’t know how she feels, but it’s irrelevant. I need to move past it and try to heal, and ironically, I can’t do that when I’m with her.”

  There are no words to express what I’m feeling in this moment. There are no words capable of consoling him or his loss. “I’m so, so sorry, Hunter. I—I didn’t know.” It’s an incredibly lame thing to say, but no words will do it justice.

  “Nobody knows.” That explains a lot. I’m sure Hailey would’ve told me, and it explains why he got so upset when his parents asked him about having kids.

  “I don’t know what to say. My heart is breaking for all three of you. I can’t begin to imagine what that was like.” He nods but doesn’t verbalize a response.

  The air in the car is heavy and we drive for another ten minutes before Hunter pulls into a driveway of a beautiful colonial home with a wrap-around porch straight out of The Notebook. I’ve been so engrossed in his story I completely spaced and didn’t realize we passed his parents’ house.

  “Where are we?” My voice is raspy from my tears, and I feel stupid asking him this after what he just told me. It doesn’t make sense, but our location seems so trivial, like it shouldn’t matter where we are.

  He clears his throat and parks the car. “Well, I figured we could both use something positive after that talk. I wanted to show you my home. It’s officially mine. I can start moving in tomorrow, and I wanted you to be the first to see it, Kenz.”

  Chapter 9

  Hunter

  I’m nervous, and I can’t determine if it’s spilling over from the conversation we just had or because I’m showing Kenzie my house. I want her to love it, and I don’t even know why.

  I try to push the last twenty minutes out of my mind and focus on the woman in front of me, not the woman from my past. In a weird way, finally opening up those wounds and telling someone about Alison and Sawyer felt good, like I’m one step closer to healing. I’m not ashamed of what happened, and I don’t blame Alison or myself for it either. But holding it in to protect myself is only hurting me more.

  I puff out a cleansing breath and turn off the car. I run around the front, opening Kenzie’s door and offering my hand to help her out. Her eyes are wide as she takes in the large colonial home. I hold her hand as I walk her to the steps leading up the front porch.

  I show her everything, from the delicate woodwork in the entryway to the water heater in the basement. My favorite part of the house, aside from the master suite, is the expansive backyard. In fact, the view is what sold me on this place.

  When I first looked at this house with my realtor, it was right around sunset. I was immediately sold. It sits on an acre of land — ample room for Jolie to expel her excessive energy.

  “So, what do you think?” We’re walking side-by-side down my property. My hands are tucked safely away in the pockets of my jeans so I’m not tempted to do anything inappropriate. I’m also still incredibly nervous. I don’t want to look her in the eye in case she hates a place I already love so deeply.

  I’m leading her to the perfect spot on my land which sits on top of a hill. There’s a wooden bench already in place where we can overlook the city-scape. I should’ve brought her here first so we could watch the sunset together, but late fall in PA means the sun is already down at five p.m. and it’s nearing on nine o’clock now.

  “What do I think?” she asks, her tone deep in her attempt to mock me. “It’s a gorgeous house, Hunter, but you didn’t need me to tell you that.” She rolls her eyes at me, and her indignation is so cute.

  I’m almost glad we missed the sunset. I would’ve been distracted by the woman sitting beside me. I’m watching her now, as she pushes a loose strand of hair behind her ear and admires the view of the city. I wish I could crawl in her head and know what she was thinking about right
now.

  Because all I can think about is kissing her. The setting is perfect and she looks radiant, standing out against the night sky as if she’s the Greek goddess Nyx.

  But I’m unsettled. Maybe it’s because I told her about Alison or because Ali has called me three times during the date. The moment is perfect, but it feels tainted and Kenzie deserves more than that.

  She starts rubbing her arms because we’ve been sitting outside in thirty-degree weather. “Come on, I’ll take you home.” I stand and reach my hand out for her to take. I’m seriously wishing I’d already moved into my house because I’m not ready to end this date just yet.

  We hop in the car so I can drive us the short distance to my parents’ house. I find a take-out fork still in its wrapper in the glove compartment. We share the fork and she feeds me bites of my pie on the way home. I groan in appreciation as the first delectable bite touches my tongue. I probably shouldn’t be driving while eating something this delicious. It’s dangerous.

  I glance out of the corner of my eye as Mackenzie takes her first bite. Who knew sharing plastic-ware could be such an aphrodisiac? Or maybe it’s the way her pouty lips swallow and glide over the prongs that’s making my pants feel tight.

  It’s late and the place is dark and quiet but for Hailey’s bedroom light illuminating the top left window. As I’m pulling in the driveway, I see my sister’s curtain move as she’s trying to spy and hide behind it.

  Like a gentleman, I walk her to the door — it’s not my fault we’re both living here at the moment. I help her up to her room which just so happens to be adjacent to my own. Unlike a gentleman, I claim the lack of lighting caused me to trip and grope her ass. What can I say? Nobody’s perfect.

  “I don’t want this night to end.” She has her back pressed up against her closed door. Her head is down as if the truth embarrasses her.

  I want to tread lightly with her, but I can’t help the next words that pour from my lips. “You can come hang out with me in my room for a while if you want. I promise I’ll behave. We can just … talk.” I smirk because I’m lying, and I need her to call me on my bullshit.