CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT Benedict

I stood on the front porch, staring down the driveway toward the entry to Hunter's land, unconvinced that I'd seen what I thought I'd seen when I turned off the highway.

"Hey, you," he said, opening the door and standing back so I could enter. "Thank you for coming."

I jacked my thumb over my shoulder. "Is that a For Sale sign?" I asked, turning to face him before motioning down the driveway again.

"That it is," he replied. "Went up Tuesday."

He waved me in with a shivering motion to get me to move indoors from the freezing outside. After helping me with my jacket, I stood looking at him. The view behind him had me confused as well, but I was still stuck on the For Sale sign.

"Why?" I asked. "Where will you live?"

"Let's have a glass of wine and then we can get into all that," he suggested.

"But I'm serious, Hunt," I protested. "You never told me you'd consider moving. I thought you loved this house," I added, realizing I should slow down with the interrogation and take a breath.

Hunter laughed and moved around me as he headed to the kitchen. I followed, my eyes traveling around the space, trying to figure out what was wrong with my recollection.

I spun around after examining further. "Your couch!" I exclaimed. "That wasn't where it was. Was it? And that mirror," I added to my now busy assessment, taking note of a complete change in his house. "The TV has been moved too, Hunt." I narrowed my examination to the kitchen again. "And, oh my God! The notes are…" I clammed up before finishing.

"Gone?" he asked. "Is that what you were going to say?"

I nodded, unsure what else to say. Instead, I just pointed at everything he had either rearranged or moved before giving up on the fact that I had said notes out loud. But, of course, I couldn't stay quiet because I was hopeful. "You removed the notes?" I whispered, clutching at my neckline. Almost every knick-knack I'd remembered was gone. "Your giraffe collection," I mumbled.

"Mark's giraffe collection," he corrected. "All of those wonderful things were Mark's things, Ben."

"They were?" I muttered, still examining his interior. "But the Starbucks mugs on top of the cabinets are gone, too?" I asked.

"Mark's."

"The…?" I pointed at what used to be artwork on the kitchen wall.

"Mark's favorite pieces," he said.

"But why?" I asked, tearing up at the fact that he had made so many changes. "I thought you liked those things."

Hunter came to stand directly in front of me. "I love those things, Ben. But I loved them because Mark loved them and he isn't here any longer. He isn't here to appreciate the joy he received from having them around him."

My eyes released a torrent as he spoke. Hunter had somehow realized what he'd been doing for two years and six months. He had finally recognized and then he had changed.

"The ugly ottoman?" I whispered, swiping at my nose and eyes.

"Mark's dad's," he explained. "We couldn't let it go when Mark was alive. In the garage currently. I'll give it to Jill."

"But why?" I asked, reaching for him.

We held hands but remained a foot apart. "I need to start living again, Ben. I love and miss Mark, but he does not live here anymore. And frankly, I don't want to live here anymore either."

"Where do you plan to go?"

Hunter motioned to the dining table. "Join me," he said, pulling out a chair for me and sitting in one he dragged near. "That's up to you, Ben Hawthorne."

"It is?"

"It is," he agreed. "Where do you plan to go next May?"

"Why does that matter?" I asked, allowing him to wipe a tear away and then rest his hand on my thigh.

"Because maybe I'll go wherever you go," he said. "That's if you'd like to get to know me better."

"But I already know you," I whispered, beginning to understand his meaning. "I already love you, Hunt."

"I was hoping you'd say that because I need a new home, Ben. A new home and a new life," he explained. "I had a wonderful life with Mark. But I don't want to waste another day without you. I'd like to build a life with you."

I'm certain the grin on my face gave away my feelings concerning his words. "I can do that," I answered. "I can. I promise I can."

"And this is the hardest part, Ben," he said. "I'm struggling right now. I have some serious issues that I need help with."

"I understand," I agreed. "But all this?" I asked, gesturing around the interior. "You made decisions about all of this. That's a good start, right?"

"Because of therapy, Ben. I started therapy," he revealed. "But I am still stuck in grief over what happened to me. Being with me and loving me will be a very difficult task."

"We could start over then," I suggested. "I'm patient, Hunt. And I know I love you already. And I need help as well."

He gently laughed and reached for my chin, holding it while he searched my eyes. "Have I told you how much I love your eyes?" he asked.

"No," I whispered.

"They're beautiful, baby boy. They remind me of a happier time in my life."

"That is sweet, Hunt."

"One more question," he said. "Wait," he corrected. "Two more questions."

"Yes," I interrupted. "I'll help you through this."

"Now hold on, Mr. Eager Beaver," he teased. "How do you know my questions?"

"And no. I am not leaving Plentywood," I added.

"You're sure?"

"I have a clinic to run. And I have a theater to build, and a daycare to expand, and a ranch to work on, and…"

Hunter covered my mouth. "And a life to build with me?"

"And a life to build with you."