20. Hunter

TWENTY

Hunter

9:25 pm

I'm standing on the balcony, the warm evening air brushing against my skin as I look out over the city. From the 20th floor, Birmingham sprawls out beneath me, a mix of twinkling lights and the quiet hum of the night. I never get tired of the view. There's something about seeing the city from up here that helps me clear my head, especially after a long day.

The grill beside me sizzles softly, the steaks nearly done, their smoky aroma mixing with the distinct scent of the city air.

I'm lost in thought when I hear the soft buzz from the intercom inside. It's Frankie. She texted me a little while ago, and on a whim, I invited her over for dinner. I had two steaks already on the grill and figured, why not? But now, with her about to walk through the door, I am suddenly and surprisingly nervous.

I push the anxiety aside, wiping my hands on a towel before heading inside to the door. The condo is dimly lit, the only genuine light coming from the kitchen and the few candles I've set out, their warm glow reflecting off the clean, minimalist surfaces.

Whatever this is with Frankie is anything but my normal preference of orderly and organized, like I keep my place. But I'm still drawn to her.

When I open the door, Frankie is standing there, looking as effortlessly beautiful as ever. Her auburn hair catches the low light, and she smiles warmly, but I sense she is a little uncertain about things, too. There's also something else—a natural ease between us that's hard to ignore, even with everything that's happened.

"Hey," I say, stepping aside to let her in. "Come on in to my humble abode."

"Hello to you," she replies, stepping through the door and looking around. "This place is… wow. This view is insane, Hunter."

I close the door behind her, a slight awkwardness lingering between us as she takes in the space. "Thanks. The space is small but I bought it for the view."

She glances around, her eyes tracing the sleek lines of the furniture, the carefully chosen artwork on the walls. "It's really nice. Very you."

I chuckle, leading her further inside. "What, you mean controlling and type-A?"

She laughs softly, a sound that eases the last bit of tension in the air. "Something like that."

We walk through the living area, and I give her a quick tour. The space is efficient—everything has its place, from the state-of-the- art kitchen with its quartz countertops to the plush leather couch that faces the fireplace and a massive flat-screen TV mounted on the wall. A few abstract paintings bring some color, but overall, the space maintains a muted ambiance with cool tones and clean lines.

"Very nice. So different from my pre-World War II house with its creaky floors and old windows."

"I like your place," I say genuinely. She's right, it is different, but it is inviting and warm. It feels like home.

"And this is the gym," I say, opening the door. This is my pride and joy of my house and I'm sure she can see by how well-appointed it is.

Frankie steps inside, and I can see her eyes widen as she takes in the view. The gym is small but fully equipped—weights, a treadmill, a stationary bike, and a few other essentials. But the real showstopper is the floor-to-ceiling windows that look out over the city, the skyline stretching out before us like something out of a movie.

"Wow," she breathes, walking over to the windows. "This is incredible. I can see why the view sold you."

"Yeah, it's not bad," I say, watching her as she looks out at the city. "Helps keep me motivated to work out when I've got a view like this."

She turns back to me, her expression softening. "You've got a really great place, Hunter."

"Thanks," I reply, as a little of that nervousness eases away. "It's home."

We stand there for a moment, the city lights twinkling outside as the last bit of awkwardness dissipates. I can see the candlelight flickering in the living room, the low lighting casting everything in a warm, inviting glow. It feels ordinary, somehow, to have her here, in this space that's usually just mine.

"Shit," I say, breaking the silence. "I need to get the steaks off."

As I turn off the gas and close the grill I nod toward the kitchen letting her know I'm done. "I roasted a couple of potatoes and some asparagus. Nothing like a good 'ol hearty meat and two sides, huh?"

"My mouth is watering just thinking about it. Thank you for having me over."

She follows walks toward the balcony, and I notice how we've slipped back into that easy company we've always kept, even with everything that's happened. I walk inside with my masterpieces, adding the rest to the plate and setting them down on the kitchen island.

"Red or white?"

"Honestly, I love them both. Chef's suggestion."

"Red, it is." I uncork the wine and pour each of us a glass.

We sit down to eat, and as we start talking—about the trial, about the day, about anything and everything. It's only a few minutes before I realize how much this is lacking in my life. Not just the conversation but the connection. The ease.

And even though there's still that undercurrent of something more between us, something we haven't quite figured out yet, maybe we don't need to figure it out right now. Maybe it's enough just to be here, together, in this moment.

As we eat, I relax more and more. The conversation flows naturally and the awkwardness from earlier is completely gone. By the time we're finishing up, the candles have burned low, and the city outside is quiet with the stars just starting to peek out from behind the clouds.

Frankie leans back in her chair, a contented smile on her face. "This was really delicious, Hunter. Thanks for this unexpected treat. This was much better than a walk. Food, any day of the week."

I smile back at her, my pulse quickening. She is talking like this time is coming to an end, but I'm desperate not to let that be true. "Anytime, Frankie. One more glass of wine?"

When I return with the wine, I suggest, "Why don't we take these out to the balcony? The city looks great from up here at night."

"That sounds nice," she says, following me as I lead the way.

Out on the balcony, the air is cooler now. The faint sounds of the city below add to the serene atmosphere from on top. We take our seats, side by side, and for a while, we just talk—about the city, the trial, random things that come to mind. It's easy, like slipping into an old routine, and it reminds me of why I enjoy being around her.

As the night deepens, the city lights start to dim, the energy below winding down, leaving us in a quiet bubble above it all. Our conversation naturally tapers off, and we sit there in a comfortable silence, both of us just enjoying the view.

After a while, I catch myself staring at her again, the soft glow from the balcony lights casting a gentle shadow across her face. There's something about this moment—something about her— that makes it impossible to look away. She looks so peaceful, so content, and I want to be closer to her.

I reach out, almost without thinking, and brush a stray strand of hair away from her face. The touch is small, barely anything, but it sends a jolt through me. Our eyes meet, and for a moment, its like everything else fades away. It's just us here in this quiet, perfect moment.

"The city's beautiful tonight," I say, my voice low, almost a whisper. I'm not even sure why I say it, but it seems appropriate since what I want to tell her is that she looks beautiful tonight.

"It really is," she replies, her gaze still locked on mine. There's a softness in her expression, a look that makes my heart beat a little faster.

The silence stretches between us, the air thick with something unspoken. There's a pull, an urge to close the distance between us, to kiss her like I've wanted to since the moment she walked into my place. I've been holding back, trying to keep things professional, but right now, all I can think about is how much I want her.

Without really thinking it through, I lean in slightly, my hand still resting on the back of her chair. "I've wanted to do this all night," I murmur, the words slipping out before I can stop them as my lips brush the side of her cheek.

She turns her head to look at me, and the proximity, her lips just inches from mine, makes it impossible to hold back any longer. I close the gap, pressing my lips to hers in a slow, deliberate kiss. It starts soft and tentative, but it doesn't take long for it to deepen, the intensity building between us.

She kisses me back with the same urgency, her hand finding its way to my chest as I pull her closer. The taste of the wine on her lips, the warmth of her body against mine—it's all-consuming, and for a moment, nothing else exists but this.

I've been fighting this pull all night, trying to maintain some semblance of control, but the way she looks at me with those fiery green eyes is like a match to gasoline. I can't resist her any longer.

I scoop Frankie up into my arms, and her legs instinctively wrap around my waist as I carry her inside, our lips never parting. I press her against the cool glass of the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the city. Her back arches as the coolness seeps through her clothes, a stark contrast to the heat radiating between us.

Her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling me closer, as if she's trying to fuse us together.

I can't get enough of her—the taste of her lips, the velvety smoothness of her skin on mine, the soft moans escaping her throat. My hands roam her body, tracing the curves of her hips, the small of her back, the swell of her breasts. I want to explore every inch of her and memorize the sounds she makes when I touch her just right.

Breaking our kiss for a brief moment, I pull her yoga pants down, my fingers grazing her silky skin. She's panting, her chest heaving against mine as I fumble with my belt, letting my jeans drop to the floor.

She watches me with hooded eyes as I roll the condom on my cock, her gaze filled with raw, unbridled desire. It's all the encouragement I need. I press against her again, the length of my body aligning with hers, and the world falls away.

I enter her with one swift thrust, burying myself to the hilt as I fuck her against the clear glass window, the city night alive behind her. She gasps, her nails digging into my shoulders, and I still for a moment, savoring the tight, wet heat of her surrounding me. It's exquisite—better than anything I've ever felt before.

We find our rhythm quickly, our bodies moving in sync. Each thrust is deeper, harder, and more frenzied than the last. The sound of our ragged breathing and the slick slide of our bodies fills the room, punctuated by the occasional moan or whispered curse.

I reach between us, my fingers finding her most sensitive spot, and she shatters around me. Her internal muscles pulse in waves as I drive into her one last time, reaching my climax with a guttural groan.

Our bodies are slick with sweat, our hearts pounding in sync as we come back down to earth. I bury my face in her neck, inhaling the scent of her, a mix of her perfume and the musk of our lovemaking. I never want to let her go.

As our breathing slowly returns to normal, I pull back just enough to look into her eyes. There's a vulnerability there that I haven't seen before, a connection that goes beyond the physical. It scares the hell out of me, but at the same time, I want more of it, of her.

I withdraw from her, both of us wincing slightly at the loss of contact, and deal with the condom before pulling her back into my arms.

We stand there for a moment, her head resting against my chest, the steady rhythm of my heartbeat filling the silence. The remnants of her essence leave a mark on the window, an homage to this beautiful woman and our intense love-making.

I know I should be careful and guard my heart, but as I hold her close, I can't find it in me to care. For the first time in a long time, I am alive, and it's all because of her.

Wednesday, May 29

5:21 am

The room is dark, the only light coming from the faint glow of the city outside the window. Frankie is curled up beside me, her breathing steady and soft, her warmth a comforting presence against the cool sheets. I'm half-asleep, drifting in that space between dreams and reality, when the buzzing of my phone on the nightstand jolts me awake.

I groan softly, reaching for the phone, trying not to disturb Frankie as I glance at the screen. It's an urgent text from the hospital's answering service. My eyes narrow as I read the message:

Nurse Grace—heart attack on the floor. Need you in ASAP.

Shit. Grace. Big Mama. The thought of her down with a heart attack hits me like a punch to the gut. It's not like this came out of nowhere with her incident a few months ago. Still, she is so stoic and so damn stubborn that I guess I let it outside of my radar.

Fuck.

Even though Wednesdays are usually my clinic days with no surgeries scheduled, I have no doubt—I'm going in for Grace. She's always been there for us, and now it's my turn to be there for her.

I turn my head to look at Frankie, still fast asleep beside me. Frankie's auburn hair spreads out over the pillow and her face remains peaceful, even in sleep. I take a moment to appreciate her beauty, stunning, so at ease. The fact that she's here, in my bed, after everything finally gives me peace instead of angst. It's hard to pull myself away, to leave this warmth and comfort, but duty calls.

Gently, I place my hand on her shoulder, giving her a soft shake. "Frankie," I whisper, my voice low so as not to startle her. "Frankie, I need to go."

She stirs, her eyes fluttering open, still heavy with sleep. "Hunter?" she murmurs, her voice drowsy.

"There's been an emergency at the hospital," I explain, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "Grace had a heart attack while working. They need me to come in."

Her eyes widen slightly, and she sits up a little, concern flashing across her face. "Oh no… is she going to be okay?"

"I don't know any details," I say, fully aware of the gravity of the situation. "But I need to get there. I hate to leave you like this, but it's an emergency."

She nods, fully awake now, her hand resting on my arm. "Of course, you have to go. I understand. I can get up quickly."

"No, stay in bed. There is nothing you can do there right now." I lean down and kiss her gently, savoring the softness of her lips against mine, the warmth of her body radiating out of the bundled covers wrapped around her. "Stay as long as you want," I tell her, pulling back just enough to look into her eyes. "Sleep in, help yourself to anything. The door will lock behind you, so just pull it closed when you leave."

"Okay," she whispers, her voice full of understanding. "Go take care of her. Keep me posted and give Grace my love."

I give her one last look, hating the fact that I have to leave her, but knowing there's no other choice. "I'll see you later," I promise, kissing her forehead one last time before standing up.

As I get dressed, pulling on scrubs that I keep in the closet for emergencies like this, I can't help but glance back at Frankie. She's already lying back down, but her eyes follow me, a soft smile on her lips despite the situation.

"Be safe," she says, her voice filled with a quiet strength that I've come to admire.

"I will," I reply, giving her a small nod before heading out the door.