CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE Hunter

" W ell, look the fuck who the cat dragged in," Charlie said, leaning into my SUV. "Fill ‘er up, sheriff?"

"Yeah," I grunted, climbing out of my vehicle and opening the back door for Bella. Bella bolted for the open door of Charlie's station. I pointed after her. "You better have the hot dog machine closed, dude."

He grabbed his crotch while he pumped gas. "This hot dog machine is never closed, big guy."

I ignored him and headed for the inside of his store. Bella was on her hind legs already, sniffing the countertop for any evidence a customer had dragged a hotdog across it. "Down," I barked, heading for the cooler.

"Beer stocks are down until tomorrow, sheriff," Charlie hollered across the store after stepping in to ring me out for the gas. I had a county credit account for fuel, so he knew to write it in his log. My beer and snacks were on my tab.

I made my way to the counter, and a grinning Charlie, laying my eggs and milk on the counter. He gestured to the purchases. "What the fuck?" he asked. "Where's your beer? We have your usual. I was just saying stocks are low if you wanted multiple."

"Cuttin' back," I stated.

Charlie's eyes narrowed, and he crossed his arms as he studied me. "Cuttin' back, huh?" he asked, ringing my items into his old cash register. "And why the fuck is that?"

"Just time, I guess."

"Bull!" he exclaimed. "You're fit as fuck, stud. What's the real reason?"

I kept my eyes fixed on my palms as I mentally counted out some bills. I knew not to look at him directly. "Nine bucks," I said, handing him the five-dollar bill while I unwrinkled four ones. "Keep the twelve cents," I added. "I don't need no change rattling around in my pocket."

I looked up just in time to see a reservoir building in his eyes. Fuck! He knew, and I hadn't said a fucking word. I looked away again as he shoved the bills into the register and sacked my eggs and milk in a paper bag.

"I fucking knew it," he muttered, shoving the bag toward me. "Not even one fucking chance for me, huh? Not one goddamned chance?"

I was speechless and embarrassed at how easily he knew why I was cleaning up my act. Charlie and I had danced around this issue for months. I'd been desperate for contact, any kind of solace from the pain I lived under when he'd kicked my door down eighteen months ago, six months into my agonizing death march.

"It was more than just sex to me, Hunt," he whispered, fighting his emotions. "I acted like I was just a fuck-hole for your pain, but I wanted that as much as you did."

"I'm sorry, Skeet," I whispered, wringing my hands and looking outside.

"Don't you ever fucking call me Skeet again, Hunt. Don't you fucking dare!" he raged, spitting as he spoke, swiping at his eyes. "I fucking love you! Do you hear me? Do you even hear me, Hunt? Do you?"

Bella cowered at hearing his agony, moving around the counter to console him the way a dog does when worried about us humans. She'd done the same for me for months and months. Why wouldn't she recognize his hurt as well?

"I just can't do that to Mark," I replied. "You and me… well… you and me are weird. The idea is weird and strange."

"We are not weird," he shouted, slamming his fist on the counter. Bella quickly came back to my side of the counter that separated us. "We can be good, Hunt. We can be so fucking good if you'd just let me in."

"You helped me, Charlie, and I appreciate that, but it was sex. I was numb," I insisted. "I'm still fucking numb!"

He leaned across the counter, hurt and anger simmering on his skin. "But not so fucking numb that you aren't getting your shit together for some New Yorker?" he asked. "Some rich pretty boy whose eyes are the same color as Mark's? Yeah! That's right. I noticed his green fucking eyes, Hunt. Big fucking deal. He ain't Mark!"

I knew better, but I lost control of my words. "And he ain't you either."

Charlie literally leaped over the counter and shoved me down the aisle, bags of chips falling on the floor as he wrestled to keep me pinned to the shelving. "And what the fuck does that mean?" he hissed.

"I shouldn't have used you," I confessed. "I don't see you that way and I fucked up, Skeet. I'm fucking sorry."

"Do not call me Skeet," he insisted. "You don't deserve my love, Hunt. And just so you know, I am more than you see standing in front of you."

"I know you are. You're amazing, but I can't see you that way for some reason," I defended, tugging on his arm as he tried to pull away. "You and I… are… whatever we are. Fuck! I don't even know what that is."

Charlie turned back to face me, grabbing my hands, tears streaming down his face. "We are meant to be together, Hunt," he said quietly, swallowing his need to cry. "We are. Why can't you see that? I have fucking loved you since I was fifteen. Mark took you from me."

He'd never made that accusation before. I was stunned and tried to move around him, but he held onto my hands. "No," I said. "That's not true, Skeet."

Charlie let go of my hands and tilted his head toward the floor. A sob escaped before he could catch it. My heart broke at seeing him so vulnerable. I didn't know this Charlie. He'd never displayed this side of himself to me.

He nodded his head over and over. "He did," he whispered. "I begged him not to, but he still did."

"Skeet?" I asked, grabbing one of his hands. "Mark didn't know that you admitted to me you were gay back then."

"He did. He knew."

"How?" I asked.

"I told him when you went away to college," Charlie confessed. "I knew you two were going to be together when you got back."

"But why didn't you tell me you felt that way?" I asked. "I'm not saying things would've changed, but I thought we were just friends. Jesus, Skeet! We used to tease each other and shit. I thought I was keeping your secret back then."

"I was in love with you, Hunt. I've been in love with you since I discovered I liked dudes."

Every single thing I thought I'd known about our friendship ran through my mind. Charlie was a tease, and I went along with his jokes as his buddy. He was never serious, even back then.

"And Mark knew this?" I asked. "I always denied that you were gay."

"He knew," he replied. "But he wouldn't let me have you. He knew you loved him more. He had you captured, and he knew it. I had no chance back then and I don't blame Mark. I just thought that, you know, after…"

"After he died," I finished his sentence. "And then I go and have a sexual relationship with you after all those years," I whispered, wiping his cheek and pulling him into my chest. "I'm sorry, Skeet. God! I am so fucking sorry."

"I convinced myself you wanted to be with me," he admitted, his voice muffled against my chest, clinging to me. "I knew you didn't."

"I needed you, Skeet. I just didn't think about what I was doing to you."

Charlie backed up. "And now you can't see me that way?" he asked. I nodded. "But you see the doctor that way?"

"I don't know," I stated. "I feel something for him, I guess."

"Shit," Charlie muttered, turning and moving behind the counter. "I don't trust him, Hunt. I know you probably think I'm just jealous, but I don't."

I did think he was jealous. Sad, upset, angry too, but I saw Ben as honest. "Why would he be hiding secrets, Skeet?"

"He just is," he said, wiping at his dripping nose. "And I want you for me. Not him having you."

Charlie was crushed and his face proved it as he wanted to protest more but crumbled and shut his open mouth. He slammed his fist on the countertop.

"Are we okay?" I asked, gesturing between the two of us.

"I don't wanna be, but yeah, we're okay."

"I really am sorry," I said, biting the inside of my mouth.

"I love you, Hunt. If things don't work out with the new guy…" He trailed off and held his hand up to me. "Don't answer that. Just go."

I sat in my rig for a few minutes, idling at the gas pump. There were a million things I wished I could say to Charlie, had said to Charlie, but I couldn't find the words. Did I regret choosing Mark even though I hadn't known how Charlie felt back then? Of course not.

But what about regretting not giving him a chance now?