Chapter 23 - Hunter

20 YEARS OLD

T he day is gloomy as we stand around Mom's grave, having just buried her. It's not a surprise that it hasn't stopped raining since the day she died. No matter what I do, I can't shake the anger flowing through my veins. Not even the sight of Oliver suffering through withdrawals.

I stand in front of her burial plot, contemplating how to move on from this. Not from her, but from this place. How the fuck do I leave her behind? She's been my anchor all my life. My happy place, my safe space. That is, until him. He took all of that from her—from me —and then he went and took himself away from me, too. But it doesn't matter anymore. She's dead because of him, and no amount of affection I feel—or felt—toward him can change that.

I feel a shoulder brush against mine, and when I look to the side, I find Oliver. I immediately tense, wanting to be as far from him as possible. Can't afford weakness right now, which is why I don't want to hear him cry more than I already have. Although that wouldn't be the worst part. No, the worst would be if he?—

"I'm sorry." Did that . "I know you hate me, but I'm so fucking sorry. I know I can't take this away, but I'm so fucking sorry, Hunt. I can't do anything to make this better," he cries out. His voice is hoarse, and a sob escapes him. "But I just want you to know I'm so fucking sorry."

My heart squeezes like a vice in my chest, and I bite my bottom lip to keep it from quivering. "No." I shake my head. "Don't do this."

"I have to," he cries, turning toward me and cupping my face. For just a split second, I let him. I relish in the feeling of his skin against mine, the safety of his presence. Only it isn't real. There's nothing safe about him. "I can't go on like this."

"Don't you fucking dare." I search his eyes, and all I see is a searing pain that cuts straight through my heart, splitting it in half. "You don't get to die too." I shake my head. "You deserve to live with this pain. For the rest of your days—you need to live with it."

"I can't ," he chokes out.

"Oh, yeah?" I laugh through the tears falling down my cheeks. I lick the salt from my lips and grab the back of his head, pulling him into me until our foreheads meet. There's nothing sweet about the gesture. No, I'm using him as an anchor right now. An anchor to my rage, to my fucking hate. I'm using him so I don't lose control of myself. "I bet my pain is worse, Oliver." He flinches and gasps. "Because the day I lost her…" My voice cracks. "I lost you too."

"No, you didn't."

"Yes," I smile, even though it's forced. I take a step back from him and let him go, but he just steps forward again. "I did. There's nothing here. Not anymore, you fucking ruined that. I don't want to see you ever again. I meant what I said in the hospital. You're dead to me, too. You should be buried right next to her, and if you don't get away from me, I'll make sure you are."

Oliver surprises me by dropping to his knees and sobbing, making my throat tighten with emotion. But when he hugs my waist and buries his face against my shirt, I almost crumble. I nearly fall to my knees right alongside him. But I can't. Not anymore.

"Please, Hunter," he begs me. "Please, Green."

"No, Oliver." I shake my head, trying to pry him off me. It's useless; he's hanging on to me so tightly that it's as if he doesn't ever want to let me go. I'm tempted to hold him back, but I can't. I can't. I can't. I can't.

Why did you do this, Ollie? Why would you break my heart like this, when I've loved you more than anything? Shame fills my gut at the thought, and it's because of that thought that bile rises to the back of my throat. I'm upset I've lost my mom, but what really hurts more than anything is that I've lost him . For good, this time. "This is finished."

" Please ."

"Get up," I demand. "I want to look you in the eyes when I tell you what I need to say."

He obliges, albeit reluctantly. Standing across from me, I notice the way his eyes are still leaking, his face red and blotchy. His blue eyes are clear regardless of his tears and grief, and that pisses me off more than anything. He doesn't get to be clean now, not now. He doesn't get to be free of pain. I fucking want him to suffer.

"There's nothing— nothing —that will bring us back together in this lifetime." I stare into his eyes, and he takes a step back. But no, he needs to hear what I have to say. He needs to feel it. I cup his face and pull him toward me, brushing our noses together. "Get the fuck over me. Move on. Leave me alone. I don't want you anymore—and I never will. Get. Out. Of. My. Life."

Oliver sobs, breaking free of my hold. "You may hate me." He nods, wiping the tears with the back of his hand. "But I hate myself more."

"I highly doubt that," I scoff. "Now get the hell out of my sight, Oliver. I can't fucking stand to look at you."

"Alright," he whispers.

"Dad's waiting for you in the car," I reply, thanking the heavens that he's not here to witness my heart's demise. I don't even want to think about what he'd say or how he'd react, if he knew about us. "Now get in it and never come back to me."

He doesn't say one more word before walking away, but I know it hurts him. And the worst part is, I feel it—the cord tethering us together…I feel it give way and snap.