39. Greedy

Chapter 39

Greedy

now

It took a solid forty minutes in the hot tub before the chill in my bones subsided. I texted Levi so he'd know where I went and to let him know that the primary bedroom was available.

Now that I've regained feeling in my extremities, I want to check on Hunter. I need to see with my own eyes that she's still okay.

Our moment on the balcony felt like a reset. As much as it hurts to think about what happened when she left for London, I'm starting to garner hope that there's still a chance for us. It's time to lay down our defenses and move past all the pain we've inflicted on ourselves and on each other over the last three years.

I may not be who she needs anymore, but at the very least, I can offer her peace.

I hover at the door to the primary bedroom for several breaths. By the time I find the courage to actually knock, my hand aches from clenching it into a fist.

Heart pounding in my ears, I softly rap my knuckles against the door .

It swings open two seconds later.

I stand tall and take a deep breath as Kabir hovers in the doorframe. Physically, I've got a few inches on him, but his presence is larger than life.

At this moment, with the way he's looking at me? I have to fight the compulsion to cower.

"Can I help you?" he asks, looking down his nose at me as if he has no idea why I'd be here.

"I need to talk to Hunter."

Mirth sparks behind his blue-gray eyes. "Haven't the two of you already said your piece?"

"Spence," she scolds from somewhere inside the room.

Kabir snaps his mouth shut, but he eyes me warily for a few more beats before he takes a step back and pulls the door open wider.

He positions himself so that I can't get in without brushing past him. I take that as my invitation to shoulder-check him. He makes a satisfying umph , then smooths the front of his Oxford shirt.

Inside, Hunter is sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, wrapped up in light pink fuzzy pajamas with her hair twisted up in a messy bun on the top of her head.

When our eyes connect, a lifetime of sorrow zings between us.

I didn't have a chance to look at her earlier when I was on the balcony. Regret and remorse churn low in my gut, even though she harbors all the blame for what happened between us earlier.

I didn't know.

She knows I didn't know. That I would never…

Even so, the urge to sink to my knees and apologize over and over again consumes me. I'm stuck in a mind warp of indecision as I stand before her, at a fucking loss as to what to do, what to say.

A throat clears, snapping me out of my mental anguish.

Shit . I have to get my head on straight.

Swallowing down the anxiety clawing up my throat, I ask, "Can I talk to you? Alone? "

Behind me, Kabir scoffs, but she's already nodding and scooting to the edge of the bed.

"Spence," Hunter admonishes. She rises from the bed and stretches her arms overhead, revealing the smooth expanse of her lower stomach.

I home in on it. Her pale, creamy skin. The toned area between her navel and the waistband of her sleep shorts.

My mind spirals, and my heart aches so acutely that I rub at my sternum to ease the pain. I can't help but think about what could have been. What should have been.

She was pregnant. Her stomach should have grown round and heavy with my child . Our child. Her belly should be softer. She deserves comfort, care, softness in her world. She's had to be so tough for so long, just trying to survive on her own. She should be allowed to be softer.

The ache that's lived inside me from the second I found out is still there.

But now, it doesn't throb with anger; it no longer feels like betrayal. It's a layered emotion that stems from sadness and roots in melancholy. It's speckled with grief, but it's also flickering with hope for what comes next.

We're here. Together.

We've hurt each other in ways neither of us expected. The position we've landed ourselves in is riddled with nuance and complexity. At the end of the day, though, when I step back, when I think about my life and consider what's most important?

It's her.

It's always been her.

Hunter clears her throat, snagging my attention. I've been silently, awkwardly standing here for who knows how long. I meet her eyes and offer a soft, apologetic smile.

She approaches, her bare feet slapping the wooden floor lightly with each step. When she reaches me, she takes my hand.

"Let's go sit in the library."

I nod eagerly, not daring to look back at His Royal Highness .

Turning to Kabir, she says, "We'll be right in there. You can stay here."

I fight back a smirk as she guides me into the room that holds so much significance to both of us, individually and as a couple.

"I'll be out here the entire time," Spence announces, his voice loud enough to carry.

I pull the door mostly closed, and when Hunter doesn't object, relief and satisfaction sink into my bones.

She pads over to the chaise lounge. Seeing her in this room, sharing space with her in this way, makes me want to hit rewind. Or refresh.

I'd give anything to take away her worries and doubts about me. I just want to start again.

She sits down and adjusts herself. When she's comfortable, she peers up at me.

"Thank you for coming to find me earlier," I start, my voice already cracking with emotion. "For apologizing. For being patient with me."

Hunter tucks her legs under her body, shifting to make room. "Sit with me?" She side-eyes the cushion of the chaise beside her in invitation.

Flooded with a wave of relief, I sit as close as I can without touching her. I want to give her space. I want to give her peace.

What happened earlier… fuck . I stupidly thought hate sex would force all the anger and frustration out of my system. I wanted to punish her—for running, for lying. For continuously pushing me away.

But now it's clear: that role has already been filled. She's been punishing herself for years, and she even made jaded and misguided attempts to protect me in the process.

She deserves soft. She deserves sweet. That look in her eye as she cowered and said my name over and over again will haunt me until the end of my days.

It hits me then.

"When you said my name the other day, on the drive up here…" I scan her face, searching for the truth.

She grimaces but nods. "I needed him to stop," she explains. "I'm not trying to hurt you, Greedy." Her voice wavers, and she sniffles. "Even though it seems like hurting you is all I ever do. I hate myself, honestly… for what I did, and for what I keep doing."

"Tem." I wrap my arms around her without thinking.

Immediately, she goes stiff, and I freeze. Before I can pull away, though, she softens, sinking into the embrace and nuzzling her face into the crook of my neck, returning the hug just as tightly.

She blows out a long breath. One of the little tendrils that's fallen out of her bun flutters in front of her face. I can't resist reaching out and tucking it behind her ear.

Instead of sitting up and pulling away like I expect, she scoots closer so our thighs press together and rests her head on my shoulder.

I drape an arm around her back as she sinks farther into my hold. Instinctively, I kiss the top of her head.

We sit like that for a few minutes, quiet and contemplative.

"I'm sorry I pushed you," she eventually says, tilting her head back and focusing on my face. "About the books. About the library."

It seems juvenile now, losing my temper over her questions about a topic she has every right to know the details of.

It's then that it clicks.

I can spend the next days, weeks, months, or even years hurting her the way she's hurt me. Though if I choose that path, we'll never move forward. We'll never be anything other than bitter exes and stepsiblings.

I shutter my eyes closed. Fuck. I don't want to fight. I don't want to punish her or seek retribution. For the secret she kept. For decisions she made years ago.

Life is messy and complicated.

We're guaranteed nothing.

If we have any chance left at all, this is it.

I kiss the top of her head once more. "I overreacted. I was angry—"

"You had every right to be," she insists, turning in my arms to gaze up at me.

I shake my head. The blame isn't all hers. We could sit here all night, hashing things out, apologizing, trying to untangle the hurt and the pain .

"Let's start over," I suggest, clinging to the very idea Levi suggested a few hours ago.

She holds her breath, wide-eyed, silent.

I keep my expression flat. "I mean it, Tem. Let's start fresh. Ask me again what you asked me in the kitchen."

Her tongue darts out to wet her lips.

She looks from shelf to shelf. Then she sniffles, searches my gaze, and asks, "Why are the books in here different?"

Closing my eyes, I inhale deeply and will my heart to keep on beating as I dive into the truth.

"A few days after you left for London, I went to your house. Your—Magnolia," I correct, "had been bringing carloads of belongings over for days. She had yet to bring any of your stuff, though.

"Your room—" I blow out another breath as memories flood my vision.

I spent an embarrassing amount of time in Hunter's empty room. I wanted to be wherever she was, and if I couldn't be there, then I needed to be in a place she had recently been.

"Your room wasn't packed."

She ducks her head and smooths a hand over the cushion on her far side. "I only took what I needed to London. I wanted a fresh start."

"I figured as much. I packed up all of your books. Your notebooks, and diaries, too."

Hunter's eyes widen, and her lips part.

"I didn't read any of them," I assure her. Although I was tempted to. In those early days, right after she left town, I was desperate for any connection I could cling to.

"Most everything is here." I point to a lower shelf that holds her notebooks, yearbooks, and other bits of memorabilia I thought might be important to her.

I even wedged the salvageable paper airplanes from her yard between her yearbooks. But that's probably too much to reveal tonight. Or maybe ever .

"Somewhere along the way, I got into special editions." The back of my neck heats at that confession. It's a secret I haven't shared with anyone, ever. Just me, my credit card, and our mail lady know the true depth of my book-buying habit. Let's just say I'm glad my dad never asked me to justify my credit card purchases. "I signed up for email newsletters, and I followed authors whose books you had several of. I figured those were your favorites. I kept up with their new releases. I even bought backup paperbacks of the books that you had annotated and dog-eared to death."

She smiles at that, even as tears track down her cheeks.

"I just wanted you to have a place that felt like yours when you came back to me," I confess.

A soft sob escapes her as she buries her head into my side.

"I didn't want this. For either of us," she admits with a sniffle. "I honestly didn't mean to stay gone that long."

My entire body sags. It's a truth I'd hoped for and a confession I needed to hear.

"I don't want to fight with you anymore, Tem." I twirl a loose strand of her hair around one finger as she nestles into my side.

"I don't either." She places one hand in the center of my chest, then glides it over so that her palm is resting over my heart.

My pulse picks up, hammering double-time, my emotions coiling tight in my chest. I have to cool it, temper my enthusiasm, see what progresses naturally, rather than try to force her into something she's not ready for.

So instead of leaning over and kissing her like I'm desperate to do, I simply say, "Let's get through tomorrow. Then we'll see what comes next."

"Deal." She sighs softly, melting into my side, and for the first time in years, genuine hope fills me.