We Found Love (25 page)

“Good. See ya then. You know the digits if you need to call me for anything.” And with that Gianna hopped into her car, waving as she drove off. Hunter breathed in the night air, watching her taillights fade as she whisked out of the parking lot and down the highway, turning toward Baton Rouge proper. He’d soon head in the eastward direction, back to Livingston Parish.

He had an early start tomorrow, so he needed to get home, but he took his time walking to his Jeep, which he’d finally spotted. He wasn’t in a hurry to head to his empty apartment.

Maybe he’d go home and write Riley a letter. He hadn’t lately. He’d stopped doing it journal style, maybe once or twice a week instead now. They still rambled and went on. He figured getting his feelings out helped more than anything, even if Riley didn’t actually read them. He’d have to thank Riley one day. One day when it wouldn’t hurt to say
thank you
and
good-bye
.

But he was still living. Like he’d promised. He looked up, noticing how clear the night was, stars twinkling in the darkened sky. He wondered what Riley was doing right now. Was he in the common room, reading the same book for the hundredth time? Was he lying in bed, looking at the ceiling? Had he made a new friend?

Hunter shook off the questions. No point dwelling on it. Riley was alive and well, Jerry assured him in his very HIPAA-restricted way. That’s what was important.

“Live your life.”

He finally jumped into his Jeep and started the quiet drive home.

S
ATURDAY
NIGHT
finally rolled around, and Hunter couldn’t have been more pleased. They’d had a busy week. He’d been doubling up, body repair classes at the local vocational school as well as sticking to his general tune-ups and engine repair. He only had to work the morning shift on Saturdays, and then he was off until Monday. He’d go to dinner with his friends, his real friends, tonight, and tomorrow he’d get to sleep in, watch Food Network, whatever the fuck he wanted.

“I’m out, Travis!” he hollered across the shop as he slammed down the hood on the newer model Maxima he’d just finished changing the oil in. He’d already worked longer than he intended. He could have gone at noon, but now the sun was close to setting, and he was afraid he was gonna be late. The text messages blowing up his shitty phone were probably all the ladies bitching him out for not being on his way.

“Have a good one, bub,” Travis said, ambling from the office. And damn if he hadn’t changed in the last months as well. He still frowned most of the time, but his posture was much more relaxed. He even joked more often. Hunter had to say the best thing to come out of  all this, other than his sobriety, was realizing just how much respect his brother had for him and vice versa.

“Any plans?” Travis asked.

“Dinner with Gia and Mel. Gia’s thinking Mel’s gonna try to play matchmaker.”

“That sounds like fun.” His brother’s tone said that he did not in fact think it sounded fun.

“Fresh hell. That’s what we call it.”

Travis chuckled. “Have fun with that. We’ll see you Monday. ’Less you wanna go to church with me and Kayla tomorrow.” He was teasing, of course, knowing the answer for that was going to be a big
no thanks
. Hunter just waved him off and headed out to his Jeep.

It took him less than an hour to go home, shower and change, check the mail—nothing from Riley.
Shocker
—and drive to Gia and Mel’s apartment.

After he knocked, he was rushed in by a highly made-up Mel, whose exuberance made him nervous as shit. “What’s up, Mel?”

“Now don’t be mad.” She batted her eyes.

“Don’t even try that flirty face on the queer-bait, Melly. It won’t work.” Gianna came around the corner from their bedroom, wearing an LSU hoodie and jeans. Hunter was glad he’d just worn a flannel; otherwise he’d have felt silly. Sure Mel was made up, but she was always dressed to the nines, or looked like it anyways. Girls like her could wear a potato sack and look like they were ready to hit a runway. Heifer.

“I invited a friend. You’ll love Morgan. He’s a total sweetheart.”

Hunter lifted one of his brows, trying not to laugh when Gia held her hands up in mock surrender. “I told you I had nothing to do with this. Plus, would I try to hook you up with a guy named Morgan? Morgan Morgan would sound pretty dumb.” Mel elbowed her fiancée in the chest, getting a grunt from Gia.

Right then, Morgan appeared around the corner, and both he and Hunter cracked up. “Oh, it’s no problem, Gia, really.”

The girls traded a curious look, then eyed the two men as they laughed. “What’s so funny?” Mel asked.

Morgan sobered for a moment. “This is my mechanic. Well, my brother’s, technically.”

Hunter and Morgan both stilled at the mention of Bubba. “Yeah,” Hunter said quietly. “His brother was a buddy of mine.”

“Was?” Mel asked. Gia’s gaze landed on Hunter, and his face must have told the story.

“Oh, shit. This is Bubba’s brother?”

Hunter nodded. Morgan smiled at the nickname he’d informed Hunter had tickled Shane to death.

“Did I fuck up?” Mel asked, gnawing on her bottom lip.

“Not at all,” Hunter said as Morgan also assured her it was fine.

“You’re sure?” Mel asked.

“Babe, why don’t we just offer the guys a drink, huh? The matchmaking portion of this soiree is officially over.” Gia looked at Morgan. “Nonalcoholic only, sorry. Got juice and water.”

“Water’s fine,” Morgan said, winking.

“Same,” Hunter said to Mel. The ladies went to grab the drinks. Morgan stood, hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels, obviously at a loss for words.

“Awkward,” Hunter said, smiling to show all was cool.

“No doubt,” Morgan said, face flushing. “I assure you, I had no clue this was a setup.”

“Oh, it’s cool. I did have a little warning. Gia was afraid it might be.”

Morgan looked away sheepishly. “Would it be bad if it
was
…? A match, y’know?”

Oh.
Hunter blinked. “Morgan….” He knew he should just go for it. Wasn’t it time to start moving on?

But no… how did you just…?

No.

“I get it,” Morgan said, face scarlet.

Hunter felt bad. He was fucking this up, but if he’d learned nothing else from his experiences the last year, it was that honesty was important. “I like you. I do. You’re cute and a helluva guy. But I can’t. Between my sobriety and…. Well, I’m not a good bet right now. Might not be for a long time.”

Disappointment colored every inch of Morgan. “I understand.”

“You don’t want to be second best, Morgan.” He couldn’t speak more plainly than that. It was probably ridiculous; he was probably fucking up something that could’ve been good. But better to not start than to create something to regret. He respected Morgan too much to fuck with him like that. He’d probably done it to other guys after Cory, but Riley was alive and well, and he was too hung up on the guy. It wasn’t time, not yet.

“Oh. Oh, gosh.” Understanding dawned. “I’m sorry. I didn’t…. I’m so embarrassed.”

“Stop, dude. No harm. But, y’know. You wanna chill, I’m always around. Turns out my bestie in there is flying the coop soon.”

They turned in unison to the scene in the kitchen. Gia and Mel were smiling, bumping hips as they got things together for their guests. They were the picture of happiness. Hunter knew they hadn’t always been that way, Gia’s drinking having almost done them in. But they’d fought through, and now they had this beautiful thing, this real thing that you could feel the warmth and joy from even standing twenty feet away.

“Makes you jealous enough to spit, don’t it?” Morgan said more than asked, Louisiana accent thick from unveiled emotion.

“Yeah,” Hunter said. “You have no idea.” No one could. That dull ache throbbed a little until Gianna and Melody came back, holding up drinks they’d made look much fancier and cocktail-like than just water.

Gia held her glass up for a toast. “To friends, good times”—she winked at Hunter—“and to living our lives.”

Now that was a toast Hunter could make.

Chapter 24

“A
ND
WHAT
about anxiety?” the outpatient therapist asked.

“I’m good.” Riley pinched his lips together.
I’m good
wasn’t the complete truth. Not a lie, but…. “I mean, I still check over my shoulder a lot. I half expect John to jump out of the bushes and grab me again, but it’s not keeping me from going to work or whatever. Besides, I’m pretty sure I could defend myself if it came down to it.”

“Then the meds are fine?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, Mr. Connors, you’re free to go.”

“Is that it?”

The therapist arched a single bushy black brow. His thick black moustache twitched. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what you’re asking me.”

“I’m asking you when I can leave the halfway house and get my own place. I’m asking you when I can come less frequently so I can work more. That job ain’t the best payin’ gig in town, you know.”

“Mr. Connors, this takes time. It’s a process. Two months isn’t enough time to determine how well you’re acclimating to being in the world again. You’ve been in and out of hospitals all your life.”

“I’m aware. What’s one thing gotta do with the other? Haven’t I proven I’m not a risk to myself?”

“Time, Riley. Be patient and keep doing what you’re doing. Things will change. They’ll get better.”

The urge to roll his eyes smacked Riley right upside the head, but he refrained. No sense in pissing off the guy with the keys to the padded cell—or in Riley’s case, the shitty halfway house he’d been staying in since he’d left Hartfield two months ago. Unfortunately, since his detention hadn’t been voluntary, he had no choice but to do what they said or face some serious repercussions… like getting hauled right the fuck back into that place, for life for real, like Humming Guy, who still kept to his routine.

Scratching the back of his head, Riley stepped out of the outpatient offices and into the main corridor of the hospital. To the right, freedom. To the left, the common room where he and Hunter had spent a lot of their time together. Every time he came to this place, he thought about Hunter, even thought about Shane. Andy waltzed through those memories too, but he rarely stayed. He seemed to come through only long enough to remind Riley what could’ve happened, and to be happy for what didn’t.

“Yo.” Fingers snapped in front of his face. He got an eyeful of Jerry’s mug all up in his grill, close enough Riley got wind of the pastrami sandwich Jerry had for lunch.

Riley wrinkled his nose. “Jesus Christ, man, have an Altoids or something.”

“I’m savoring this shit, thank you very much.”

“Clearly.” Riley pursed his lips. “You got something for me?”

“Sure do. You got something for me?”

Riley shook his head. “Not this time.”

“What? Why? What the hell?”

“Haven’t had time to write anything,” Riley said with a sigh. He went right back to scratching the top of his skull. It was better than rubbing the scars on his wrist, he supposed. “I wouldn’t know what to say. He’s been out almost a year already. He’s probably dating and shit, and I’m not supposed to be thinking about that. I’m supposed to be taking care of myself.”

“True, but man, I think he deserves to know you’re out and that you’re doing okay. I mean, shit, Riley, Hunter asks about you every time he comes to visit, and he writes all these letters for you. I don’t know how that”—he waved his hand in Riley’s direction—“stuff works.”

“‘That stuff’?”

“You know, the gay stuff.”

Riley snorted.

“Hey, I’m trying. Give me a break here.”

“Straight but not narrow.” Riley mocked Jerry’s favorite saying. One friend comes out of the closet and Jerry becomes the community’s newest ally. It was cute, almost as cute as it was amusing.

“Damn straight. I mean, um….”

Riley laughed even harder. He had to admit, one of the best parts about coming back to Hartfield was seeing Jerry. Who would’ve known an orderly would’ve turned out to be one of the best friends Riley had ever made?

Shaking his head, Riley held out his hand. “Can I get the letters? I don’t want to spend the whole damn day at this place. Hartfield’s had enough of my time.”

Jerry didn’t hesitate to hand the pile over. The envelope wasn’t as thick as normal, and though Riley knew he couldn’t expect more when he wasn’t giving more, it wasn’t any less disappointing. He nodded his thanks and stuffed the packet inside his hoodie, then headed back out to his car. He climbed into the little beater, gassed it, and turned the ignition. It took a minute, but the car got with the program eventually, cranked and sputtered, then settled into a nice idle.

He carefully opened the first envelope, and the moment he saw Hunter’s handwriting, the world seemed to start spinning the way it was meant to. It wasn’t need, but relief that Hunter still had so much to say to him, even after all this time had passed, and according to the letter, life was good for Hunter. No need to throw a monkey wrench in the great big Ferris wheel of life now that things seem to be rotating as they were meant to.