Page 24 of Hunter or Hunted

Arm limp, almost like a cat pawing at a toy, she pointed at the carafes on the table.

Walking across the room to it, my tight neck softened. I held the Styrofoam cup beneath the spout and flicked the spigot. As it filled, I looked her way. “Happy?”

Despite the swelling around her eyes and lips from all the crying, she smiled and nodded.

She didn’t hate me. After everything yesterday, and the night preceding it, I was almost certain she’d never look at me the same again. I guessed I’d been right, because that look on her face wasn’t the same.

Before, it always seemed like I was looking at her through a pane of glass. Some magical reflection played against it, obscuring whatever she was thinking, whatever she felt.

But now, I saw it all. The softness in her eyes, the pain behind them, and the fury that boiled beneath it all. The pane of glass had shattered.

I squatted before her again. “I’ll drink when you do.”

She lifted the can to her lips, I lifted the cup to mine, and we tilted our heads back in unison. I took a few gulps while she chugged. The thick texture had me humming, and the sweetness sent my head tilting.

As she lowered the can, a burp billowed from her lips. I laughed. She did too, covering her mouth. Didn’t make much of a difference. The smell already hit me.

“Do you like it?” she asked.

“Too much.” I set the cup on the carpet next to my feet. “That shit’s dangerous. You don’t even taste the whiskey.”

“That’s the idea.” She brought the ginger ale to her mouth for another sip. As she lowered it, her brows furrowed. “Was Lizzie out there?”

“Yeah. She’s with Aubrey and her mom.”

Gwen’s eyes widened. “She saw that? Me, like that.”

Lizzie saw a messy, pain-filled moment of vulnerability. It hadn’t been the perfect picture of Gwen. But it’d been real. Raw and honest. I didn’t hold it against her, and Lizzie wouldn’t either.

“She’s going into high school next year.” Thighs burning from squatting so long, I lowered my knees to the carpet. “She’ll see plenty more drunk people.”

“Yeah, but I’m not the kind of drunk people she should see.” Words slurred, Gwen rubbed her eyes between her thumb and forefinger. “That’s embarrassing. I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to see that either.”

I didn’t have to. I wanted to. Not because I got some sadistic joy out of watching Gwen fall apart, but maybe a cathartic relief. She bottled everything, all of the time. I still didn’t understand a lot of what she said. The stats, and the pain, sure, but one day, I hoped she would tell me what she’d meant. Why the hell she thought she deserved to die more than Delilah.

I wanted to know those things for the same reason I was glad to have been the one who caught her. Because I wanted to be the well she could dump into. I wanted her to feel safe enough to share the most vulnerable parts of herself with me.

“I don’t mind.” I thumbed a bead of sweat from her forehead. “How are you feeling?”

“Spinny.” She blinked hard. “Tired.”

“Can I drive you back up to your cabin?”

Swallowing hard, she nodded. “I might need a little help getting to your truck though.”

“I was counting on it.”

She didn’t need much help. Holding my hand was enough.

When we made it to her cabin, however, she struggled on the steps. Couldn’t blame the alcohol for that, though. Between the inch of ice and lack of handrail, anyone could’ve slipped. I caught her before she did.

Almost slipped behind her. Thankfully, she didn’t see.

Once she found her key, then struggled to get the lock open, we stepped inside. Honey’s barks echoed from Gwen’s bedroom. She ran out like a bullet to greet us.

Gwen squatted down to pet her. The second her fingers made contact with Honey’s ear, she stumbled. I stretched out to catch her, but her ass already landed on the hardwoods with a thundering thwack. I expected a gasp or a grunt.

Instead, she laughed. Not a giggle, not a snicker, but a deep, all-consuming belly laugh. A mess of red curls obscuring her face, her laugh ended in a snort.