“I know, I just . . . I know.”
One of his hands gave a little pinch. “Thank you again,” he murmured genuinely. “Honestly, Izzy, the fact that you did all of this is just . . . unbelievable. But I’m not gonna apply or go to A&M.”
My stomach sank at the same time relief barreled through me. “What? Why not?”
“I don’t know nearly as much as I want to, but I can’t learn in a class what I’ve learned growing up on this ranch. I can’t learn what I was forced to by trying to clean up my dad’s messes. Besides,”—he ran his hands farther down my legs, then back up and under the shirt I was wearing. Digging his fingers into the curves of my hips—“the first time I left was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, and this place wasn’t even mine. Now that it is?”
He shrugged, his stare drifting and dancing across the house.
He didn’t need to continue, it was written all over his face. Hunter was tied to this ranch. Still, he murmured, “I can’t imagine leaving.”
“I understand.”
“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly, his eyes snapping back to mine.
“What? Why?”
“I can’t imagine how much time you spent on that, and I’m not using any of it. I’m grateful, Izzy . . . really. I just—”
“No, no, it’s fine,” I said quickly, honestly. “I’m not disappointed in your decision or bent out of shape about the time.” I waved off the thought. “That was nothing. I wanted to do that for you because I want this for you—we all do. But only if it’s what you want too.”
He released a soft, drawn-out sigh. “Thank you.”
“To be honest, there’s a part of me that’s happy you’re staying.”
His fingers dug harder into my hips as heat flared in his eyes.
My lips twisted into a wicked smirk as I leaned closer, the movement causing me to rock against his hardening cock. I suppressed a moan and whispered, “Who else would I throw food at when I’m pissed off?”
His laugh filled the kitchen as he shifted me off his lap and stood us both up. Heading for the fridge as if he’d just remembered he’d wanted food before our conversation began.
“You’d find someone, Izzy,” he said confidently and tossed a smile over his shoulder at me. “Someone who can give you the life you deserve. Someone who can love you.”
“Everything I had and never want again,” I reminded him for what had to be the thousandth time in the past three years, my tone deadpan from having to repeat myself.
“Someone who loves the way you go from zero to cussing them six ways to Sunday in half a second,” he went on, his voice all a gentle tease. “Who knows how to handle you when you show your fragile sides.”
I launched the closest thing to me—a half-eaten loaf of bread—at him and snapped, “I am not fragile.”
He shut the refrigerator door he’d just opened and glanced at me from over his shoulder, brows raised in challenge.
“Take it back.”
Long seconds passed as we watched each other before he faced forward and opened the fridge again.
Just as I was about to demand he retract his comment again, he spoke. Soft, but powerful enough to root me in place.
To leave me speechless.
“You’re like fire, Isabel. Consuming and unpredictable and still incredibly fragile.”
Oh.
And, damn him, those words made me feel like the exact thing I’d just claimed I wasn’t. But fragile felt so weak.
That burning in the back of my eyes. That tightening in my throat. All over some words.
It wasn’t until Hunter started piling random ingredients on the island that I was able to snap out of it.
I cleared my throat and quickly scanned everything he’d brought out so far, trying to figure out what to make with it before heading for a couple of pans.
“I can handle them,” I said when I had a pan heating up.
Hunter gave me a questioning look as he handed me the oil.
“My fragile sides. I can handle them myself.”
He caught my wrist to stop me from turning back to the stove, brows drawn together. “I know you can. But you don’t have to.” A look crossed over his face as if he wasn’t sure if he should continue before he said, “It’s been three years, Izzy. It might be time for you to get back out there.”
“Again . . . something I don’t want.” His mouth parted, so I hurried to continue. “It’s been about that long since you broke up with Piper. And a hell of a lot longer since Madison walked away from you. Maybe you should get back out there.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
But Hunter didn’t respond. A sickened expression stole across his face as he stared at me. Looking like he wished he could take back what he’d said.
I snatched my wrist from him and demanded, “How? Because Madison’s still alive? Because you’re holding on to some ridiculous hope that she might come back?”
A muscle ticked in Hunter’s jaw.
His remorseful eyes searched mine.
I tossed the oil at him and turned, flipping off the stovetop’s burner as I stormed out of the kitchen and to my office.
When I whirled around to leave with my bag and keys in hand, he was standing there, looking all kinds of apologetic.
And I didn’t care.
I jabbed a finger at him and shoved against his chest with my other hand. “You don’t get to tell me my situation is different because my person died. Like I should be over it. You don’t get to tell me I should be moving on because Dean can’t come back when you don’t have plans to simply because you want Madison to come back.”
“Isabel—”
“No. Fuck you, Hunter,” I yelled as I stalked out of the house and to my car—in nothing but Hunter’s shirt with heavy tears streaming down my face.
He didn’t follow, and I was thankful.
Because the moment I sank into the driver’s seat, I got it.
This wasn’t a typical fight. This wasn’t me arguing for the sake of arguing. This was one of my fragile sides, and it was painful and terrifying.
I didn’t know what words would come out of my mouth next or how damaging they would be. And I wanted to spare us that destruction.
Hunter was right.
I was like fire.
“Can’t believe you have three kids,” I said for probably the twentieth time that day as I watched Savannah’s little ones race through the kitchen with Avalee running after them. Their laughs pouring free and warming my soul in a way I hadn’t felt in so long.
A laugh of my own bubbled free when little Levi smashed a slobbery fist against my jaw because my attention had left him for even a moment.
When I glanced back at him, I gave him the brightest smile and was rewarded with those Dixon dimples.
“So handsome,” I murmured lightly. “And you know it. Don’t you, you little heartbreaker?”
“He does, indeed,” Savannah said when she came back to the large table with a cup of puréed food, her body subtly moving to the song playing throughout the kitchen. “Such a lady’s man.”