7. Cara

Chapter 7

Cara

Hannah chatters the whole way up the angular staircase. Apologizing for her dad, which is hilarious. She doesn’t have any reason to apologize.

I’m the one who practically got to second base with him on Main Street a week ago.

“That’s my dad’s room down there,” she says when we get to the top of the stairs. “He’s in a wing of his own, basically. And then this used to be my room, but now we let Wyatt use it because it has a huge bed.”

Right.

“So now my room is at the far end of the hall, which I don’t really mind, actually, because I get my own en suite that way. Which leaves these two little rooms here as the random guest rooms. Not that you’re random, Care Bear.”

I’m not sure when Hannah decided I was nickname worthy. Maybe around midterms? Feels like a lifetime ago. We stayed up studying, and got a little punch drunk and silly. I called her Hannah Banana, and she laughed and laughed, rolling around on the floor, and then called me Care Bear.

I haven’t called her the nickname again, but mine stuck.

She pushes open a door, revealing a truly small room, with a tiny twin bed on one wall and a dresser on the other. At the far end of the room is a mirror, leaning against brick, and above that is a wide transom window that runs the width of the room. Right now it’s dark outside, but I imagine that in the morning, it will flood the room with light.

“I’ll leave you to unpack.” She hands me a gift bag. “And you don’t need to wear them tonight. It’s more of a morning thing, but…we do matching PJs.”

“Pardon? ”

“Christmas PJs. I bought you a pair, too.”

“They match yours?”

“We all wear them. My dad, my uncle. His partners.”

My head is spinning. “I… Where is a washroom?”

“Just down the hall,” she says, stepping back into the hall. “Next to my dad’s bedroom.”

By the time I return downstairs, there’s a lot of raucous laughter guiding me to the great room.

The stairs go back to the foyer, and from there, I turn the corner and find myself in an incredible living room that looks like it hasn’t been updated since the 1960s. Okay, maybe the kitchen has been renovated, but very carefully.

Hunter is standing at a brass and glass drink cart, shaking a drink in a large silver container. He’s wearing faded blue jeans that cling to thick thighs and a gray buttoned down shirt, rolled up to reveal thick forearms.

Behind him is a framed print of a goblin-like cartoon character wearing a little Santa hat.

Merry Fecking Christmas, it says in a speech bubble. Fecking. That’s the favorite curse word of that character. What is its name?

I feel Hunter’s gaze on my face, and my attention is dragged back to him. I try to smile, but I can’t.

I’m sorry , I try to convey with my eyes. I didn’t know.

He said sorry, too. At the door.

This is so awkward.

Everyone else is oblivious, at least for now, so that’s some small comfort.

“Everyone, this is Cara,” Hannah says loudly. “Cara, this is everyone.”

I tear my attention away from him and wave nervously. “Hi. Thanks for inviting me.”

“This is my Uncle Wyatt,” she says, gesturing at a blonder, younger version of Hunter, sprawled on the longest part of a low sectional with a muscular older man, and a young woman sandwiched between them. “And Heath and Emily.”

“Do you go to Ridge, too?” Emily asks.

I can feel Hunter staring at me, and my stomach drops. “Yes,” I manage to whisper.

“I just graduated,” she says. She brushes a dark curl off her cheek, and I notice she’s wearing two matching rings in a stack on her left hand. “It’s great, isn’t it?”

I nod. That’s all I can manage.

“Drink, Cara?” Hunter finishes pouring whatever he’s just made, and hands it to Heath. But his attention is locked on my face, his expression hard and piercing. “I’m making hot chocolate martinis. Or maybe you’re not old enough for that, yet?”

“Dad!” Hannah jumps up. “I’m going to make real hot chocolate for us kids.”

Kill me now.

She drags me into the kitchen.

“Sorry about my dad,” she whispers as she slams cabinets.

I need her to stop mentioning the fact that Hunter is her father every two seconds. It’s making me die a little inside every time. I called your dad Daddy, and he pushed his cock against my body because he wanted to fuck me! Merry Christmas!

From across the room, he shoots a glower this way. As if it’s my fault he has a daughter my age! What a jerk.

“My uncle says he’s getting over a girl.” Hannah shakes her head. “I didn’t even know he was dating someone. But something must have happened in the last week, because now he’s moody as fuck and he’s got woman troubles.” She does air quotes around the last two words.

My insides flip over. “Oh?”

“I swear, he’s never like this.” She slams a pot down on the stove.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see him pour another drink, then square his shoulders and head our way.

“Incoming,” I whisper.

She giggles, which makes me smile despite myself.

As he strides across the great room and bounds up the three steps to the kitchen level, I can’t help myself from looking. Staring, really. He’s…massive. Tall, with big arms and even bigger legs, and a thick torso that I can still feel against my fingertips from when I curled my fists into his shirt.

“Hannah, stop being so theatrical,” he says as he joins us, carefully not making eye contact with me. “Your guest is going to get the wrong impression.”

“Oh no, Cara,” she says in a pseudo-whisper. “You might figure out that I’m dramatic .”

I press my lips together.

“She knows , Dad. She’s put up with me all term. Got me a B+, too.” She taps her temple. “Smart.”

Now his attention snaps to me, and it’s like all the air in the entire house is sucked out in a powerful vacuum.

Hannah stirs the milk she’s heated on the stove. “This needs a splash of something. Just a splash, Father. Like a cooking ingredient. Don’t say no, I won’t even listen to you.”

She darts past him, taking a running leap into the living room, heading for the liquor cart.

“How many broken bones did she have as a kid?” I ask.

“Three, all well-earned,” he mutters. “Cara, we need to talk.”

“Nothing to talk about.” I feel like I might spontaneously combust. He made it clear he didn’t want to date someone as young as twenty-five , so to find out that I’m not even twenty must be killing him. “Mistakes were made. Consequences are being felt. We’ll survive.”

Startled surprise slashes across his face, softening his hard mouth at the corners. “Will we?”

I take a deep breath and nod. “Yes.” I’m going to will myself to not give in to the embarrassment of this moment. “But if this is too weird, I can go.”

“God, no.” He reaches out and curls his hand around my elbow. Unwelcome heat slams into me, and matching sparks light up his gaze. His fingers press into my flesh, caressing the inside of my upper arm for a second before Hannah returns, waving a bottle of Amaretto, and he drops his hand. “I don’t want you to go anywhere,” he says under his breath. “Please stay. I… I want you to stay. I need to explain why I?—”

“How much, Care Bear?” Hannah pulls me away from her dad before he can finish.

“Just a splash.” I swallow hard. “I don’t really drink much.”

She laughs.

I don’t laugh.

And from his careful, watching perch just down the counter, Hunter doesn’t laugh, either.