"Thanks, doc," I utter, not even paying attention, just going on auto-pilot, as he hands me her discharge papers and script to get filled. All things that he should be giving to her because we’re no longer connected in any way.
He bids us adieu, and then Cassandra and I are speed walking out of the clinic. By the time we make it outside, I’m able to see it's dusk, with the barest hint of light still left in the sky.
We walk across campus toward her housing, which just so happens to be the same apartment building as Harloe's, and before we're able to make it off the grass and onto the parking lot, I can't hold my questions in anymore.
"Why the fuck did you lie?"
She nearly trips by the roughness in my tone, but quickly catches herself. "You wouldn't understand."
This chick is bona fide crazy.
"You're sure as shit right that I wouldn't understand. There's no use in lying about anything, Cass. You lied about a baby, and then about almost committing suicide. What the fuck?"
She huffs. "It was the only way to get you there, and it didn't work out too well, so don't rub it in. You wouldn't have cared about me falling out of the window."
"Rub it in?" I ask, flabbergasted. "Wouldn't care? Cass, I don't give a shit what you do, can't you understand that?"
"Trust me, I know," she growls under her breath. "It's all her fault."
I stop her right there, grabbing her arm to pull her around to face me. "This is the last time I will tell you, Cass. Whatever we had together is over. These stupid little stunts of yours will no longer work. Lose my number because, after this, I'm blocking your ass."
Tears shimmer in her eyes. "Hunter."
"Nothing you say will change my mind. The girl who helped me all those years ago isn't the girl who's in front of me today. Yes, you had your moments, but over the last three years, you have been pissing on our arrangement like I belong to you and warning others away. I was never yours, to begin with, can't you see that?!" I raise my voice, completely losing myself to the tumultuous storm building inside. "No matter how many times we fucked, I never once let you think we were more! From the get-go, you knew this was temporary. You know it's always been her!"
Her face turns three shades of red. She starts huffing and puffing, raging like a bull, and when she can no longer hold it in anymore, she releases it all like a tidal wave. She releases a guttural scream that's sure to attract people's attention. She looks crazy and damn near mental when she completely loses it.
"This is because of your bastard child, isn't it!" she screams like a banshee, throwing all her things to the ground in a fit of rage. "Before she came back, you were mine! You had your fun with other people, as did I, but we belonged to each other! Now, just because she has that disgusting creature living with her, and claims he is yours, you're going to throw everything away! She fucked Owen, Hunter, so that child may not even be yours!"
Like our anger is building off each other, I feel mine swamp me. Clenching my fists, I'm raging like the seventh circle of hell. And that is what makes me walk away and toward the building, putting some distance between us. From the corner of my eye, I see a couple of girls stopped right in the middle of the crosswalk, standing and gawking.
"Take a goddamn picture!" I roar, scaring both of them with my abrupt yell and causing them to run off with their tails tucked between their legs.
Pacing back and forth, I try to calm myself down before I go completely off. Just hearing someone call my son—Maverick—a bastard hits me all in the feels, largely targeting my anger. I don't like it. Not one bit.
But what pisses me off just as much as hearing those words come out of her mouth is the fact she knows about Owen and Harloe. No one, except Harloe, me, and Owen know about that shit. No one.
I know Harloe wouldn't say shit. I know for a goddamn fact I never said anything. So, that leaves one person, and I swear I'll rip his fucking throat out if he said anything.
What am I saying? Of course, he did. He'd pass that shit around just to get another hit at me when it comes to Harloe. Well, I'll be fucked if that's going to happen again. As soon as I'm done with this bitch, and I get the results to Maverick's paternity, pissed or not, I'm making a trip home, and I'm beating his ass.
I feel her near me, which causes a low grumble to reverberate in my chest. "Back off, Cassandra."
She sniffs. "I'm sorry, Hunt," she releases in a shuddering breath. "Please. I didn't mean to say that."
Turning around, I stare daggers at her. "You called a toddler a bastard, Cassandra! A two-year-old child! One that may possibly be mine!"
She closes her eyes in shame. But I know it's all a trick. Cassandra Radcliff doesn't feel shame. All that in the clinic was a ploy to get me to believe all her lies. She's nothing but a snake, and I probably just fucking ruined the best thing in my life ... again ... because of her.
Fuck! Harloe is the best thing that's ever happened to me. My eyes close hard, nearly to the point of pain, as I come to that conclusion.
The only time I've ever felt like myself was when she's been near me, regardless of the hate flying back and forth between us. She's always been my north star, and I’ve been her anchor. And I can't believe I've allowed all these years to go by without seeking the truth, not just Owen's version.
"I'm going to ask you one question." She looks up at me with hopeful eyes. "How do you know about Owen and Harloe?"
Ignoring my question altogether, she freezes me with one of her own, her eyes dead and emotionless. “If you walk away from me, you will regret it.”
Without even blinking, I do just that. Toxicity like Cassandra and all her lies need to be stomped out before they can catch fire and burn out of control.
My stomach is tight with nerves. So much so, I've barely been able to touch a sip of the coffee Hunter brought me when he came to collect Maverick and me this morning.
The anxious energy is so bad, I can't even properly bring myself to smile at all the gawking faces, and the way Hunter seems to show Maverick off to anyone who will stop and listen to him.
Why he insists on fighting the paternity, I'll never know. He seems like a proud papa to me, and from what I can see, he thoroughly enjoys it.
"Daddy," Maverick starts with a sigh. I smile despite myself.
"Yeah, little man?" If he sincerely believed Maverick wasn't his, he'd correct him, right? He wouldn't be that cruel, surely.
"Girls make funny sounds."
I snort, catching Hunter's amused smirk. Even with how he left things between us a few days ago, I can't stop the butterflies from simpering through my stomach.
"What's so funny?" he inquires with a knowing tone. But instead of waiting for me to answer him, he jostles Maverick warmheartedly against his chest, saying, "That they do, little man. That they do."
"Mommy does. In the bathroom," he goes on to explain, and complete horror washes over my face.
I wish the ground would swallow me whole.
"Maverick," I scold, watching as his little innocent eyes slide over to mine.
"What?" He shrugs like it's no big deal—but it's a very big deal. Knowing my son has heard me during one of my private sessions is not a great moment for me. But having him tell Hunter about it? Pure freaking horror. "After Daddy left. At bedtime. 'Member?"