You'd think with such an innocent question, I'd be able to answer. But I can't. The words simply won't come.
I sit back numbly and stare straight ahead at the blank wall. It's hard to articulate what I'm feeling right now, and to be honest, I don't even want to try.
Hunter still hasn't said what took him so long to come knocking back on our door. But it's not hard to figure it out with his rumpled clothing and the smell of alcohol wafting off him.
The news hit him just as hard as it did me, only he was able to work through his problems without the distraction of everyday life. He could focus strictly on himself, instead of having to deal with the outside world, too.
I didn't have that luxury.
He didn't go to classes, which angered me because he was my partner, and I had to do all the work by myself. His friends were constantly finding either myself or Jenna and asking if we'd heard from him.
Until seeing him at the door, I was angry and confused because he simply stopped existing, and it made me flashback to when he forced me out of his house. How I wanted nothing more than to stop existing. How I wanted the world to swallow me up, so I didn't have to feel the pain of losing the one person I loved.
Could I ever forgive him? When I was in high school, I thought losing Hunter was the end of the world. It took me several months and a bouncing baby boy to let me know differently.
Hunter was never my world.
He helped provide my world.
He helped give me the one person I know for a fact will never leave me. And, for that alone, I can't hate him. No matter how much I should. He took away my reason to breathe, but not without giving me a reason to exist.
Sparing him a look, I give him a genuine smile. "A lot has happened, but I think I could learn to."
The smile that etches across his tired face has the blood singing in my veins. Flushed, I quickly turn my head away, mumbling, "Why don't you go get cleaned up? Maverick's been pitching a fit for days because his dad hasn't been here."
Hunter's silence catches me off guard. Caught up in his thoughts, his eyes rapidly move as he thinks about something. And when he raises his eyes back to mine, the wholesome feeling of gratitude I see shining through his gaze nearly knocks the wind right out of me.
"I'm a dad," he whispers in awe. "Little man is mine." But just as quickly as the light-heartedness and joy come, they disappear like a thief in the night, and in its place is a mind-crippling sadness I feel to my very core. He props his elbows on his knees and puts his face into his hands. "I missed so much."
That he did, and by the look marring his features, he fully understands how it is all his fault. I played a part in it, don't get me wrong. But without the catalyst, I'd never have left.
Clearing my throat, I say, "Remember that night you broke things off with me?"
He sits up straighter. "Yeah?"
I take my lip between my teeth, grazing my lips across the surface nervously. "That was the night I was going to tell you I was pregnant. I—the pregnancy test was your present."
"God." He wrangles his hair in his hands, pulling the strands taut with tension. "I'm such a screwup. If I had—if we had ... Goddammit!"
"The past can't be changed, but—" I say with a hint of a smile, trying my best to cover up the hurt, "—it's up to you if you miss anymore."
"I won't make the same mistake again, Lo." His eyes flash with steely determination, and I can't help but think he's talking about more than just his duty as a dad to Maverick.
Please, I won't be able to survive it again. "Good. He needs a dad."
He hoists himself off the couch, and I slowly follow after him toward the door. When we pass the kitchen island, I watch him as his eyes catch and stay on it. He doesn't say a word, just stares, like he's remembering everything I do each time I wake up and see it there, in the middle of the room, for everyone to see.
Opening the door, he turns, catching it with the other hand. He seems contemplative, but I have a feeling I know where his thoughts are leading. And I have to put a stop to it. Nothing good will ever come out of Hunter and me going back down that road. We've been interrupted more than once, and I think of that as a sign from the cosmos or something.
I shake my head, insinuating I know exactly what he's about to say. When his entire body seems to deflate right in front of me, I know I'm right. He was going to ask me about us, about the chemistry we seem to still share.
Chemistry we may have, but a whole lot of toxicity we have as well.
"Bye, Hunter."
He leaves without saying another word.
It doesn't bother me, really. At least, it shouldn't.
Fuck ... I'm so screwed—because it does.
A little later, Jenna is coming into the apartment with her hands full of my son and his things. He's wiped plum out and snoring with his head on her shoulder. He's wrapped around her like a Koala, and the sight causes me to giggle.
"A little help," she whispers, huffing. "He's like a heating pad."
Hurrying over, I quickly take him from her and put him to bed. I can give him a bath in the morning. Upon my return, Jenna is just then coming out of her room in her nightclothes—a long ratty T-shirt that goes down to her knees.
It's better than nothing, and so much better than what she used to prance around the apartment in.
Closing the door behind me, I make my way back to the couch where I was studying. However, the moment I sit down, I know there will be no studying done. Jenna sits right down on the couch near my extended legs and stares.
I highlight another portion in the textbook and glance up. She continues to stare at me without saying a word, like she's expected something.
Oh, I know what she wants, but it's not going to tickle her fancy.
"Nothing happened," is all I give her.
Just like I predicted, she blows out a breath and flops back onto the couch. "Why not?"
My eyes bug. "Why not? The last three years is why not."
"So."
I slam my book closed, the sides hitting together with a sharp pop. "So? Do you even know why he showed up today?"
She shakes her head but licks her lips. It's then, I know that I fell into her trap. But I can't even bring myself to give a damn. I proceed to tell her everything that happened. About the video, the pictures—I talk to her for so long that she has to pause the conversation and sneak into her kitchen to open her smuggled wine she stole from her mom and stepdad's house.
By the time I'm through ranting and raving, we're halfway through the bottle, and our tongues are getting super loose.
"Just fuck him." She takes a gulp of wine, nearly draining the glass. "Not like you have to love him to fuck him."
"I ain't fucking no one, Jen."
She gives me a look—one I don't much care for. It's her calculating glare that lets me know she's trying to analyze me. "You're droughting bad, aren't you?"
I hate that she's right. I'm also not going to admit it, either. Sure, we've been living together for almost three months now. Doesn't mean I haven't gotten my kicks elsewhere.
"No." Keeping my face as neutral as possible, I know the moment she sees through my bullshit because she starts snickering with laughter and holding her stomach as if it pains her.