11. Hunter

"Hey, man. How's it going?" Greedy strolls into the room casually, like we didn't just overhear Levi's mom going off on a religious tangent, spewing warped sentiments about how the Lord heals or provides or some other nonsense she molds to fit her perceptions.

I'm a southern girl through and through. North Carolina born and bred. I know better than to push back on a person's religious beliefs and love of Jesus. Not only would it be futile, but it'd be downright rude.

That doesn't stop my hackles from raising as I side-eye Mrs. Moore and slink around Greedy.

I'm by Levi's side a second later.

He's pale and covered in a sheen of sweat.

"Hey," I say, my voice low.

His eyes meet mine, and yet he's a thousand miles away.

I know that look. I know the feeling that inspires that look, or rather the lack of feeling. That thousand-mile stare is typically accompanied by a hopeless hollowness I know all too well.

I ache to comfort him. To console him. To assure him that I really see him.

My heart splinters a little at the anguish rolling off him as his guard goes up and a steely mask shifts into place.

"Duke," I murmur, instinctively reaching for his hand.

"Who are you?" his mother demands as I squeeze his fingers in a silent show of support.

I can feel her focus on our joined hands just as potently as I can feel Greedy's glare from behind me.

For a breath, we're all silent. Levi blinks, a slow, drawn-out motion. His lashes flutter, and then his eyes close completely. Though he's quiet and calm, a single tear forms at the corner of one eye and streaks down his cheek.

He releases my hand, like he's in a rush to bat the tear away.

I refuse to let him go.

On the other side of the room, Mrs. Moore tsks. "It's nice to see you, Garrett, but now's not a great time. What do you say you come over to the house on Sunday morning? You could help me get Levi loaded in the car for church. You could even attend with us."

Greedy replies to Mrs. Moore, his voice a low rumble, but I'm not focused on them. Not anymore. All my attention is fixed on Levi as he tries to pull his hand away again.

I grip his fingers tighter.

He's hurting. And not just physically.

It kills me to see him cry.

I'll be damned if the woman inspiring the anguish etched into every line on his face is the person he has to solely rely on.

Anger bubbles up inside me at the thought. We can't let him go home to a house he hates, with a woman who doesn't see him or accept him or give a shit about his well-being.

An idea sparks to life inside me, igniting a hopeful flame. Levi is minutes from being released, so I don't have time to really think it through. Even so, I'm going for it.

Based on the look Greedy and I shared in the hallway, we're on the same page.

Well, maybe not the same page, exactly.

But he won't mind.

Too much.

Bending low, I bring my lips to Levi's ear, positioning myself to hide the wet trail on his cheek from the others in the room.

"Did you actually puke before we walked in?"

He said he thought he was going to be sick. We heard that much. He may have even gagged. The puke bin on the floor appears to be unused, but I have to be sure.

He shakes his head once, the movement causing his jaw to brush my lips.

"Then follow my lead."

I kiss his cheek, erasing the evidence of his despair.

Then I wind my arms around his neck, dip my head lower, and press my lips into his.