Too Much to Lose (17 page)

I tug my phone out of my bag
and skim down to Hunter’s number. My thumb shakes as I press call. I’d spent
all day looking forward to seeing him and wondering if he felt the same. It
feels so natural to be around him, even with everything I’m hiding, because
although I’m keeping my past from him, I’m aware he sees through me. He might
not understand what I’ve been through but I have this feeling he knows me. If
anyone gets my determination to create a better life for myself it’s Hunter.
His mother did the same for him.

The phone rings and goes to
answer phone. I scan the street and search for his bike or car but there’s no
sign. I try calling him again but it goes to voicemail once more. Worry threads
tightly through me, makes my skin hot. Something has to have happened to him.
Hunter is never late. From what I’ve learned of him, I don’t think he knows how
to be. He’s so meticulous and in control.

I try again. If I don’t get
through to him this time, I’ll get the tube to his place and leave him a
voicemail.  A click. I hold my breath.

A gruff voice. “Yeah?”

“Hunter?” His sharp tone throws
me off.

“What?”

“Are you picking me up from
work today?” How needy do I sound? I cringe.

I hear him sigh. “Look… you’re
going to have to find your own way home.”

“Okay… where are you?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he snaps.
“Perhaps you should just go back to your place, Jess.”

My heart constricts. “Hunter,
what’s going on?”

“Nothing. Just… just go home.”

“I thought you said I was in
danger. I’ve been looking over my shoulder every two minutes because of you.
What’s changed?”

“I was wrong, I guess. Nothing
else has happened, has it? It’s time you went home.” He sounds sullen.

“What about my stuff?”

“I’ll have Mitch bring it over.
In fact—”I hear him swear softly “—just wait there. I’ll send him to get you.”

“Why? What aren’t you telling
me?”

I search the previous day for
clues, explore his words for an idea as to why he’s dismissing me. Is it our growing
closeness? God knows, I was on the verge of something. I’m not sure what. Believing
there was a chance for us, perhaps, no matter how ridiculous it sounds. And if
anyone was interested, it was Hunter. I was the one fighting him off, not the
other way around. So why the sudden change?

“This was a big fucking
mistake, Jess. Wait for Mitch.”

Tears blur my vision. Traffic
passes by, a haze of colours, and my throat hurts. “What do you mean, a
mistake? You pushing me to stay with you? Or you pressing me to spend time with
you? Kissing me was a mistake? Touching me?” Hysteria inches into my voice.

“Fuck, I shouldn’t have done
any of it. Just fucking wait there.”

“Fuck you, Hunter.” I hang up,
bruised and battered inside. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I swipe away the
forming tears.

If I only knew why the sudden
change, that might help. I snort. Who am I kidding? Hunter’s company has become
an addiction. I don’t care why he’s behaving like he is. I want him. Want him
so bad, my body aches for him. I make my way to the tube station, not caring
when people push and shove me. I thought the worst thing that could happen
would be someone finding out the truth about me, but I’m not so sure now.

On the crowded train, with the
scent of sweat filling my nostrils, I try to summon some kind of inner strength—the
one that pushed me to run away from home and find my own way in life. But my
own way led me down a terrible path. Starving, homeless and scared, I got
suckered into the porn industry. And I wasn’t alone. So many of the girls were
there for the same reason. Single mums trying to feed their kids, women who had
nowhere else to go, girls trying to fund their college fees. The industry took
advantage of that—advantage of me.

Apparently I’m not as far
removed from that person as I’d hoped. It took a few kind words and I was
pulled in again—this time by Hunter. He stripped me bare and has left me with
nothing. I draw in a breath and grip the bar. No, not nothing. I have my job. I
will have to face him again soon too. I’ll get some answers then. If he believes
I’m not in trouble, he must be right. I’ll forget Hunter O’Reilly and move forward
with my plan. Work hard, save up, rent a nice place and remain alone. If I
didn’t learn from the last time a man hurt me, I’ll remember this.

By the time I get to my
apartment, Mitch is waiting outside, tapping his feet impatiently as he leans
against his Jeep. I eye the attractive man and hope I don’t look as wrecked as
I feel. “What are you doing here?”

“Hunter sent me. I did stop by
the bank but you were gone. Figured you had headed straight home."

“What’s going on, Mitch? Hunter
said I’m not in danger so why are you here?”

He shifts from foot to foot and
unfolds his arms. “You’d have to ask Hunter about that. I’m going to stick
around for a few days.”

“Seriously?”

Mitch opens the car and hands
me my canvas bag. I take it and sniff. He offers me a look of sympathy that
threatens to crack my composure.

“Hunter has been through a lot
of crap recently. Give him a few days. He’ll figure it out.”

“Is it the house?”

Mitch scowls. “What?”

“Him losing the house. Does he
blame me?”

“Why would he blame you?”

“The bank is trying to
repossess his house. The bank I work at.”

Mitch curses under his breath.
“I didn’t know that. Guess that explains a lot.”

“Does it?” I clutch my bag to
me.

“I knew he was under strain and
struggling financially but I didn’t realize it was that bad. Hunter’s not
exactly the type to talk about his troubles.”

“He told me some of it.”

“Well, you’re the exception it
seems.” Mitch glances around. “Come on, let’s get you inside. I don’t like
having you out in the open.”

“Nothing is going to happen,” I
huff as a nervous prickle skips up my spine. Whether it’s paranoia or not, I
still can’t shake the feeling of being watched. I can’t keep feeling like this.
“Go home.”

“Jess, you could be in danger.
Hunter—”

“Hunter isn’t here!” I draw in
a breath. “You must have a life, Mitch. I appreciate your help, I really do. I
mean you barely know me and you’ve been really great, but you can’t follow me
around for the rest of your life.”

“It’s not a hardship. I don’t mind
keeping an eye out for you. This is not just a favour to Hunter. I wouldn’t
want to see you hurt.”

“You’re a really good guy… but
I’m not going to spend who knows how long looking over my shoulder. I’m fed up
with being followed and nothing else has happened.”

“I don’t know. Hunter will kill
me if anything happens to you.”

“Hunter clearly doesn’t care!”
I snap. “Anyway, the letters were just some weirdo and the car and backfiring
and stuff was a coincidence. Have you honestly seen anything suspicious these
past few days?”

“No,” he grumbles.

“See, I’ll be fine. Hunter was
being paranoid.”

“He has been pretty unhinged,”
he admits.

“Go home, Mitch. You don’t need
to look after me.”

He stares me down and I lift my
chin. I’m fed up with men telling me what to do. I’ve put myself on the line
one too many times recently and where has that led me? To heartache and
confusion.

“Go home or I’ll call the
police and tell them you’re harassing me.”

His brows rise. “Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously.”

I see his chest heave with a
deep breath and he backs away. “Fine. But call me if you need anything. I’m
serious.”

“I won’t need anything,” I tell
him confidently. I don’t need anything or anyone.

***

I lie in bed and lift my phone. No calls. Nothing. That
familiar ache eats away inside of me. I glance at the time. I need to get ready
for work but after a week and a bit of nothing—no word from Hunter—it’s getting
harder to drag myself out of bed.

I snatch the phone again and
find the last message he sent me. It’s easy enough to find seeing as hardly
anyone has my number apart from him. My heart throbs painfully as I skim the
words, searching for some kind of hidden message, for some reason why he would
have disappeared. What did I do? Am I a terrible kisser? Awful company? Did I
seem as desperate as I felt for him? Was it the whole house situation?

Be safe, princess.

Princess. Weird how that drove
me mad and now I crave it. I need to hear him say it in that deep tone that
rolls through me. I scrape a hand through my hair, push myself up and fling the
phone onto the bed. Nausea rolls in my stomach. Or maybe hunger? I haven’t
exactly been eating well. I can’t seem to bring myself to. I need to get a grip.
Where has my determination to carve a better life for myself gone? It’s late
afternoon on Saturday and I’m
still
in bed.

It went with Hunter it seems—a
man I really didn’t know all that well.

I’m an idiot.

Thrusting one heavy leg out of
bed, then the other, I stagger to the bathroom and get ready for work.  I throw
myself under a scalding shower and lean against the cold tiles, and pray the
contrast pulls me out of my lethargy. This isn’t me—this moping, lovesick shell
of a person. I wrap my arms around myself and dig my nails into my sides until
it hurts. I need to feel
something.
This empty pain inside is driving me
insane. Why did I not listen to my instincts and keep Hunter out of my life?
Everything was going fine until he turned up. I might not have had the most
exciting life, I might even have been lonely, but I was fine. Anything is
better than what I feel now—this hollowness in my stomach that tells me he realized
I wasn’t worth his time.

I flick off the shower, wrap a
towel around me and one around my hair too. I try not to picture how he looked
at me. And how he touched me. Am I just really stupid? I don’t get it.
Everything he did had me convinced he wanted me. Everything he said did too.
And me being an idiot, wanted to believe him.

I do my make-up mechanically,
perfecting my mask. It doesn’t feel so important now. Who cares if someone recognizes
me? I don’t think it will hurt as badly as this does. I give myself a mental
slap and slick on some dark lip gloss.
It matters because you wanted a fresh
start
, I remind myself.
A good job, a home of your own
. A steady, predictable
life. Hunter had to burst his way in and ruin that, didn’t he?

Heading back to my bedroom, I
drop the towel and dress. Almost all the clothes I own remind me of Hunter. I
can hardly afford to replace everything so I’m stuck. I pull on my leather
trousers and a tank top, and mentally chastise myself for being such an idiot.

A shiver trails down my spine
when I unwrap the towel from around my hair and run a brush through it. I walk
over to the window and peer through the slight gap in the curtains. A car
drives off from the front of the building—a red sports car. Nothing weird about
that, so why do I have this strange feeling in my stomach? Was I hoping it
might be Hunter having changed his mind about us?

Dropping the hair brush on my
side table, I twist it into a bun and secure it with an elastic. I pause and
eye the drawer with the painkillers. It would be so easy to do that again. Just
to numb the pain for a while and block out the bad memories. First my uncle,
then the porn producers and now Hunter.

With a shake of my head, I
stride into the kitchen area and pull out a box of bargain brand cornflakes. No,
I can’t go down that road again. I eat half of my breakfast over the counter,
hoping to stave off that niggling ache that tells me I need something more,
something to dull my senses, but my appetite is shot and I dump the rest in the
sink.

Why did I finally risk opening
myself up just the tiniest bit? I should have kept myself locked away, like I
had been doing. That had worked hadn’t it—keeping people out of my life?

Unfortunately, Hunter made me realize
how pathetic my life was—
is
.

I flick on the coffee pot. Time
to forget Hunter and move on. I’d been doing fine without him before. Maybe
this is what I needed to remind myself why I’d avoided men this whole time. You
can’t trust anyone, especially the male of the species. Thank goodness I didn’t
get to deep and do something stupid like… like fall in love with him.

My lips tingle in remembrance
as I pour the coffee. My body clenches. Eyes that changed in different lights
flicker through my mind and strong hands, brooding glances and beautifully
blunt compliments swarm my memory.  Taking a quick sip of the scalding liquid,
I grimace and throw it in the sink before grabbing my handbag and jacket.

I wish I understood why he’d
vanished so suddenly. He can’t have found out, surely? I’m paranoid that
someone will, but I’ve covered my tracks carefully enough and given little
away.