Page 36 of The Bitterroot Inn (Jamison Valley 5)
“Me too.”
Smiling again, I turned back to the lake, still unable to believe how incredible this day had turned out. Last night was all but forgotten, Hunter was nearly as excited about my art project as I was, and he’d asked me out on a date.
“Thanks for bringing me up here today,” he said.
“You
’re welcome.”
“I wish my dad was still here. He’d love to see a place like this.”
His statement caught me so off guard I didn’t know what to say, so I just stared up at his profile, hoping and waiting for him to keep opening up.
“Dad loved to fish,” he said. “Living in the city, he didn’t get to go much, but whenever he had the chance, he’d bring me to lakes like this one. Something quiet and secluded. We spent a lot of time fishing in Michigan but this would have been right up his alley too. He passed almost six years ago but sometimes it feels like just yesterday.”
“I’m sorry.” I hadn’t lost a parent but could imagine that it was extremely painful, especially if Hunter and his father had been close. “If you don’t mind me asking, how did he pass?”
“Cancer. He had pancreatic cancer. By the time he told me, it had progressed to stage four and he’d only had a few weeks left.”
“I’m sorry.”
Hunter looked down at me with a sad smile. “It’s okay. He was actually the one that got me hooked on photography. He always brought a camera with him whenever we went fishing.”
Now it made sense why he hadn’t wanted to talk about his photography mentor last night. And rather than respecting his boundaries, I’d gotten frustrated when he hadn’t wanted to share something painful. Guilt—a feeling I hated second only to fear—settled in my gut as words started pouring out of my mouth.
“I’m so, so sorry. I shouldn’t have brought up your family last night. No wonder you didn’t want to talk about them. How inconsiderate!” My hand slapped against my forehead. “I’m so sorry, Hunter.”
I was the worst date. Ever.
Even worse than the nose-picker.
“Hey.” Hunter chuckled and lifted my hand off my forehead. “You didn’t know.”
“Still. I’m sorry.” Mentally comparing Hunter to Everett was exceptionally unfair. “And I’m sorry about your dad.”
“Thanks. We were close, me and dad. My mom died in a car crash when I was seven, and we only had each other for a few years until he remarried.”
Two parents. Hunter had lost two parents.
“I keep saying it, but I don’t know what else to say. I’m so sorry.”
“No need to be sorry. It’s just that seeing places like this makes me think of him. And I guess . . . I just wanted you to know.”
“I’m always glad to listen.” Anytime he wanted to talk, I’d make sure I was there to lend an ear.
Staring out at the water, we resumed our silent appreciation of the scenery. Then and there, I made a decision. I wasn’t going to push for information or interrogate Hunter with personal questions. Gigi had given Jess time to come around from his jackass ways and now they were one of the happiest couples I knew. Maybe all Hunter needed was time too. I would fight my natural instinct to pry, and I would respect his privacy. I’d give him some trust that he’d tell me about himself on his own timetable.
And stop being such a total flipping hypocrite.
My closet was full of skeletons, skeletons I had no intention of letting out this early in a potential relationship. I couldn’t expect him to reveal his secrets when I was keeping my own.
It was time for me to chill out and just let things develop.
We sat quietly until a cluster of clouds blew in and took away the water’s sparkle. I was just about to suggest we head back to town when Hunter surprised me with a random question.
“How old are you?”
“I turned twenty-nine in March. Why?”
