The Good and Bad and Wicked
Parents and nurses in cartoon scrubs and a few doctors prop against the walls of the hospital, eavesdropping on the soft melodies as Hunter effortlessly plays the grand piano in the lobby.
I sit cross-legged on a velvety dark green rug under a massive artificial willow tree that’s a part of a forest scene from a fairy tale. Jackson, a four-year-old boy diagnosed with a rare form of bone cancer, is seated in my lap and his older sister, Jessie, sits next to me, resting her curly head on my shoulder. More children lounge around the bridge and park benches made of fake wood but most are cross-legged on the rug, intently watching Hunter and gathered around me.
It is very difficult holding back tears. The beautiful melodies that Hunter streams fluently and young kids fighting the biggest battle of their lives that are pressed into me on all sides are almost too overwhelming to take in. Almost. Keeping me strong enough to endure this is…Hunter. He’s dressed casually in a white linen shirt and loose jeans. His wavy blond hair is disheveled and wild.
Captivated along with everyone else, I watch him perform. His fingers swiftly move across the keys, almost too fast to witness. His eyes are closed tightly and he appears to really be in a zone, on another planet faraway from here. It’s like he’s playing from some sacred place deep within his soul. I haven’t watched him play since I was eleven, so this is a special treat that I will always cherish and keep inside of my heart.
“He’s amazing and his fingers move really fast. Jessie’s fingers don’t move fast like Hunter’s fingers, but she sounds amazing, too,” Jackson whispers wide-eyed and in awe.
“Yeah, it’s like magic,” Jessie agrees. “How long has he played?”
“Since he was six,” I say, “and it is amazing and like magic.”
They both nod and Jackson’s little hand reaches out to hold his sister’s. She smiles over at him and takes his hand in hers, kissing the inside if his small palm. My eyes burn with tears and my lips tremble. I give up and surrender to the tears. Wet rivulets silently run down my cheeks. The simple act between Jackson and Jessie reminds me of how I treated Tyler.
How I comforted him.
How I cared for him.
How I loved him.
How I miss him.
Hunter ends on a lovely note. He stands and gives a courteous bow while everyone applauses and cheers. His eyes narrow once they land on me. Despite the wetness on my face, I attempt to smile but his eyes are still assessing.
He sweeps many plastic sags off the hood of the piano, grinning down at the children. “Who wants cookies?”
Eager hands fly up with many thrilled approval shouts. Nurses help Hunter pass out the sweets. Hunter not only made chocolate chip cookies, he made an array of cookies: oatmeal and raisin, honey and lemon, white chocolate and pecan, cinnamon and sugar, banana and peanut butter, and flavors of combinations I’ve never heard of before.
“He is such an angel,” Jackie, Jackson and Jessie’s mom, murmurs to me as they freely race towards Hunter, giggling and laughing. “I’ve been pulling extra shifts at the salon, but it’s never truly enough to pay all the medical pills. Insurance is shit.” She pauses to look at me. “It’s very difficult and sometimes feels impossible to do this all on my own. My husband passed two years ago—boating accident.” She pauses again and takes a deep inhale through her nose. I rub her back. I have no idea why she’s telling me something so…personal. “Hunter is paying for Jackson’s care. He’s also paying for Jessie’s piano lessons. He paid my mortgage in full and my car. He told me that all the money I earn now goes to them…to my kids. I don’t even know if he has any clue what he gifted me with.”
My heart painfully clenches inside my chest. “That’s wonderful, Jackie. But why are you telling me? I didn’t need to know.”
She wipes her tears with the backs of her hands. “Because you’re Hunter’s woman; it’s in the way you look at him and how he looks at you. I never saw him look at another woman like that, his eyes only glitter when he’s with the kids, and he has never brought anyone along with him. Not in the year we’ve been here. You should know what kind of man you have on your hands. Hunter…he’s an angel.”
My breath hitches.
He never brought anyone along with him?
Jackie reaches down and squeezes my hand. “You two make a beautiful couple. I’m overjoyed he found someone to give the world to.” Without another word, she wanders over to the group of children that surrounds and clings on to Hunter. Jessie grabs Hunter’s hand and drags him back to the piano. He smiles down at her and passes a plastic container of cookies to Jackie, then allowing Jessie to yank his arm and pull him. Jackson gathers two handfuls of sweets before he avidly follows them. I watch as the three of them sit on the bench and Hunter begins to teach Jessie how to play the piece he just finished. I recognize the piece only because my father used to sing the lyrics to me.
It’s Brahms’s Lullaby.
***
Hunter and I sit in the hospital cafeteria, in the table hidden within a tight corner. His eyes bore into me as I shove banana pudding in my mouth. I peek up at him from under my lashes. His features are more inquisitive than impassive.
“I should really be more conscious of what I’m eating. My tummy is going to get round,” I say sheepishly.
“You’re filling out. It’s a good thing. If you stop eating, I’ll be forced to stop fucking you—round makes my dick hard. Your tits and ass are getting fatter.”
My mouth is agape as I stare at him.
Is that a compliment?
He winks at me so it must be a good thing. We fall back into comfortable silence and his face takes on an impenetrable expression.
“Are going to ask me to the Winter Ball?”
“I have a date already.”
Deep disappointment surges through me. “Oh.” I’m interested in whom Hunter is taking but I’m not desperate enough to actually ask. I already feel like the biggest fool for even mentioning it.
He is so quiet, something is bothering him. “What’s the matter?” I murmur, swirling whipped cream and pudding together with my plastic spoon.
“I’m going to need some answers,” he says simply.
“Okay, shoot. But it goes both ways. Deal?”
His eyes narrow slightly before he mutters, “Deal. Why did you jump off the cliff? I thought we were past this.”
I grit my teeth from the disappointment and accusation in his from voice. “I didn’t jump, Hunter.” My words are tight and strained.
He cocks his head to the side and eyes me suspiciously. “Then what happened?”
“I slipped.”
“You slipped?” he says, skeptically.
“Yeah,” I whisper to my pudding cup, “it was a complete and total accident. I’m lucky Hero was there.” I let him scrutinize me a few seconds more before I say, “Okay. My turn. Why did you make me sleep with Candy?” I stare intently to scrutinize his reaction.
He smiles, all teeth and ominously. “I couldn’t take a chance on you fleeing or doing something stupid.”
I shrug nonchalantly. “That’s it?”
“Yeah, that’s it.” He takes a sip from his grape juice, licking the deep purple droplets from his bottom lip. My eyes dart to his kissable mouth as he speaks. “What’s going on with you and Max?”
I shrug again. “We’re friends.”
“Only friends?”
“I think…Why do you care?”
“He’s called you eight times. Why would he call you eight times if you were only friends?”
My brows crease as I franticly search my pockets for my cell but coming up empty. “He called me eight times? Where’s my phone?”
“I have it,” he mutters.
“Why do you have my phone?” I didn’t realize my new cell is missing—I had to buy another one since my old one is resting at the bottom of the river. I don’t even know when or where he took it.
Hunter gives me a once-over that chills my blood. “Why haven’t you answered my question?”
“Yes, Max is my friend…a better friend than you have ever been,” I say quietly.
His jaw ticks, his eyes flashing fire. “Watch yourself, Isabel,” he warns sinisterly. “Are you trying to piss me off? Because, baby, you’re doing an exceptional job.”
I involuntarily flinch from his hostile tone. My head dips down to stare at my hands fisting in my lap. “I don’t know why he called me eight times. Maybe he needs me or something. I don’t know.”
“He needs you?” he repeats in less threatening manner but still harsh.
“I don’t know, Hunter. It might be something important,” I whisper softly. “He’s been nothing but kind to me. He’s really a nice person. Why are you so upset? I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Look at me, Isabel,” he murmurs too quietly. I glance up at his face that’s masked with anger, or maybe annoyance. “I only do this because I care.”
“You beat me because you love me?” I ask in utter shock or maybe just denial.
I watch his lips twitch before he leans in and whispers, “Absolutely.”
“Do you want to beat me?” I whisper breathlessly, my heart beating wildly in my ears.
His pupils dilate, black expanding into darkening blue. His jaw clenches again. “At times.”
Is this seriously turning him on?
“Hunter,” I breathe. “That’s not normal. You can’t get pissed at me and want to beat me, or whip me, or spank me.”
“Are you ‘normal’?” he contours, dark eyes shrewd.
“Anything but,” I mumble, spooning pudding in my mouth.
His brows lift. “Then why are you judging me?”
“I’m not,” I say quietly.
He blinks, gazing into my eyes momentarily. “I’d make you beg before I did anything.” My eyes bulge out and sweep the small cafeteria, afraid someone is listening. It’s mostly vacant except for the workers wiping down food trays and tabletops. “You’d beg me to touch you, and when I do, I won’t stop until you let go and promised me things you thought you never would.”
My breathing turns ragged as I squeeze the plastic cup, banana pudding plopping on my hand and sliding down my fingers.
“I’d tie you down and make you feel things you don’t want to feel, things you never knew you could feel. You’d love every second of it,” he whispers, grinning arrogantly.
“Kinky bastard.”
His grin stretches into a smile and he gives me a wicked wink reserved only for me.
Self-indulgent shithead.
“You’re sick,” I tease.
“You say that and, yet,” he says and reaches out to place a palm on my chest, “your heart is soaring with excitement.” His eyes shut, listening and marveling from my fluttering heart under his scorching palm that threatens to burn right into my chest. “I’d never harm you, though.” I swallow loudly. He drops his arm and opens his eyes, revealing the quiet storm brewing inside them.
Hunter is intense multiplied by a billion. I don’t know how to react to some of the things he does without setting him off. It’s like I’m in love with a ticking time bomb.
“You scare me,” I say softly, steadily holding his gaze. “I love you, but you scare the hell out of me. Have you been diagnosed with split-personality disorder?” Hero did tell me that you are seeking help.
He laughs, loudly and joyously. “What?”
“I’m dead serious, Hunter. One minute your super intense and then sweet and kind and attentive the next. You’re impulsive and your temperamental mood swings confuse me and give me whiplash. What am I suppose to do when I don’t know what to do?”
His smile vanishes and he eyes me for a beat, then takes my hand and brings it to his mouth. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Isabel. But I guess that you hold on.” His pink tongue darts out to lap up the pudding from my fingers.
Warm waves of pleasure and lust ripples throughout my body, I gasp and squeeze my legs together, trying to gain some kind of friction to relieve the tingling sensation between my legs.
“My girl looks hungry and I need to feed her.” He grins, tilting his head to the double exit doors.
My breath hitches because he’s not referencing to food. “I want answers.” His grin broadens, drawing my index finger into his moist mouth and sucking the pad until I close my eyes and moan, squirming in my seat. Every fiber in my being tightens. “You can’t manipulate me with sex. I’m stronger than that.”
He pulls my wet and sticky finger from his mouth and kisses it. “Are you, though?”
“I am,” I say with a newfound resolve as I open my eyes. “I want my phone.”
He gingerly lays my hand on the circular table, reaching inside his jacket with the other. He slides it across the table and it thumps against my hand. “Thank you.” I immediately scroll through all the missed calls from Max. There is also a text from him:
Max: Call me ASAP!
Me: At lunch with Hunter. Will call right after. Promise. I have some things to come clean about.
Max: Hunter? Seriously? What things do you have to come clean about? Are you hurt?
Me: I’ll explain when I can. I have to go. Call you soon.
“…I’ll try to answer them as honestly as I can,” Hunter says.
I glance up from my phone, my brows furrowing in confusion. “What?”
“Have you heard a single word I’ve said?”
“No.”
His eyes dart between me and my phone, a frown curving his lips. “What are you two talking about?”
“You should be more trusting, Hunter. I don’t have a reason to lie about anything. Just give me time and I’ll tell you everything soon. Now, what did you say? I didn’t catch it.”
His lips press into a grim line. “I said ask me whatever you want and I’ll try to answer them as honestly as I can.”
“What’s going on between you and Candy? Are y’all, like, together together?”
“What Candy and I share is exactly what Candy and I share. That’s her story to divulge. I don’t want to get into girly drama. She’s in a tough place and I wanted to help her out.”
“Really?” I ask, not sure what to make of it.
“Yep.”
“Hunter the New Age Hero?” I provoke.
His gaze turns deadly. “Watch that mouth, your ass will thank you.”
“Whatever,” I mutter, suppressing a smile. “Are you clean?”
He makes a face. “I’m certainly not dirty.”
“No, silly. I mean physically are you clean? Should there be anything I should be worried about? We didn’t use protection.”
“As clean as clean can get. We can go get tested together if you want. We have the same doctor, Isabel.”
My cheeks flame at the thought of Dr. Marvin testing us both for STDs. He has been my doctor since I was a child. Dr. Marvin sends me holiday cards for God’s sake. I imagine him as an uncle, though he looks more like a grandpa with wild gray hair and red circular frame glasses that always rest on the lower bridge of his nose, as if he’s always trying to get you to confess to something shameful. “Yeah, we should do that…some time later.”
“So you trust me?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“You let me fuck you without a condom, three times, so you must trust me to some extent,” he murmurs through an arrogant smirk.
“I need Hero’s number,” I ask, avoiding what he says entirely. I need to talk to him about Green Frog.
He eyes me warily. “Why?”
“It’s important,” I whisper, feeling ashamed of myself after what happened between me and Hero. I didn’t mean to hurt Hunter or Hero.
“No,” he says simply.
“No?”
“No,” he states firmly, “I’m not giving you his number. Next question.”
“Okay…Did you follow me around campus?” I don’t know why I bothered to ask for Hero’s number. I can make a much-needed trip to Cherry High to get in touch with Hero. I don’t need Hunter’s permission to do anything.
He blinks and then rakes his hands through his messy hair. “I did. I followed you mostly everywhere you went. I had to make sure you were safe.”
“You stalked me?” My heart feels like it’s about to beats its way through my chest.
He lifts a brow and smiles.
I swallow loudly and settle back into the chair. “I don’t know how I feel about that. Do you stalk me now?”
“Not all the time,” he says, his smile widening. “I do have a life of my own, you know.”
“I don’t want you to follow me anymore,” I declare. “It’s creepy.”
“You never noticed before. Who told you? Harmony?”
“No,” I lie. “Just don’t do it anymore. Why did you and Sally split?”
He sighs, exasperated. “I was tired of the lies and deception—the girl plays more games than a PlayStation. If it makes you feel any better, I was only trying to replace what I didn’t have. She was a great distraction and she used me like I used her. Sally liked what I offered and I like what I got.” He shrugs nonchalantly. “Nothing more, nothing less.”
A frown curves my lips as my brows snap together. “Why did you get engaged then?”
He studies me for a moment before he replies, “She asked me. I was in no position to refuse.”
“What does that even mean?”
He shrugs again, unwilling to elaborate.
“Did you love her?”
“I loved what she did,” he mutters as if talking to himself.
“What did she do?” I ask, truly intrigued.
“She wounded me,” he says in the same tone, and my heart plummets to my stomach. “She fucking ripped me apart and I taunted her to do it harder the next time…She never disappointed, Isabel. Just because my scars aren’t visible doesn’t mean I don’t have them. She scored me, in the way I scored you.”
“I’m sorry,” I manage to say from my tight throat.
A puzzled expression crosses his face. “For what?”
Reaching out, I caress his face. “That she hurt you. No matter how you treated me, you didn’t deserve that…you didn’t deserve whatever damage she did.”
His facial features relax and get soft in a way it makes my soul ache. His large hand locks around my outreached one by the wrist and brings my palm to his mouth and kisses it before releasing me. “Why did you harm yourself?”
My eyes roam over his left shoulder, seeing nothing but the bloody and dreadful past. “Because I wanted to feel.”
Hunter cocks his head to the side, an inquisitive look in his eyes. “Is it that simple?”
“Yes. The funny thing about cutting: you do it to feel. It’s something you can physically see and touch. People do it for different reasons. I did it because you took away everything I knew and it felt like the entire world was caving in on me. I didn’t get how you couldn’t need me anymore. How easily disposable I was to you. I couldn’t cope without you, Hunter.”
I don’t realize I’m crying until he reaches out and touches my wet cheeks. “Trust me, Isabel. If I had any other option, I would’ve picked them instead. Hurting you…I didn’t want that. But the pain and the misery were necessary. I didn’t need you jeopardizing the safety I provided for you. I’d take all the pain away if I could.” His thumps swipe under my eyes before he drops his hands.
“Okay...Why did you cut me out of your life?”
“To protect you.”
My face contorts into bafflement. “To protect me?”
“Yes.” His reaction is aloof and controlled as he gauges mine.
“From what?” I ask in disbelief.
His jaw muscles twitch. “I can’t say.”
“You can’t say or you won’t say?”
He avoids the answer altogether by staying silent.
“You know, Hunter, truth is not the same as silence. Why can’t you just tell me? What’s the big deal? I don’t understand.”
“That’s just it: you don’t understand.” His beautiful features twist into a hard mask of frustration and fury. “You don’t understand anything that’s going on. Do you know how fucking long I had to endure this bullshit? Do you even care now?”
“Of course I care, Hunter,” I assure softly, reaching out to touch his fisted hand over the table. “I’m just confused about everything. I care for you. I love you, Hunter. I love you so much.” Most of the irritation leaks from his body as my thumb moves back and forward across the skin of his knuckles. “We don’t have to do this now if you don’t want to. Okay?”
“No. You have questions, so ask away,” he replies dryly.
“You sure?”
“Don’t give me a chance to rethink this, Isabel.” He sounds like he’s talking about something else entirely…like us.
Forcing myself to swallow past the huge lump in my throat, I nod. “Why did you come back after all these years?”
He stares down at the plastic pudding cup with a far-off expression. “I was at the funeral and I saw you. That connection or lifeline we have never went away. I knew you were hurting and scared and feeling alone. I had to be there for you. I swear it wasn’t a choice.” His eyes take on a glossy and unfocused look. “It wasn’t even an obligation. It is a pure essential need that I am there for you. You are my responsibility. You were always my responsibility from the very beginning, Isabel. You’re mine.”
My fingernails dig into the table as my lips part and eyes widen. “Hunter.”
“But my possessions are always tarnished,” he resumes talking like I didn’t interrupt, “I didn’t just one day decide I had enough of you and I wanted you and me to be over. I didn’t wake up and want you suddenly out of my life. It was so fucking hard, Isabel. So fucking hard…the hardest decision I’ve ever made. But one I’m glad I did.” His haunted eyes flicker up to me and steal every wisp of oxygen from my burning lungs. “You were torn away from me and I’m the one who ripped the seams apart. It’s something that I have to