by Coralee June
I let out a slow exhale and turned to face her. Butterfly was ridiculously gorgeous. In the early morning light, her pale blond hair practically glowed. She had crystals around her neck and wore a burnt orange sports bra and tight yoga pants. Sex last night was rough and violent, but it left me feeling so empty and devoid of satisfaction. I didn’t come. I felt used. My standards where Hunter was concerned always seemed to falter. The only enjoyment I got out of it was his confessions at the end.
“Last night was the most alive I’ve seen him in ages. His aura was very confusing, but I saw healing lavender. Who are you, Roe Palmer?” she asked with a teasing grin.
I decided right then to trust Butterfly. “I think I’m the girl Hunter was running from. I think I’m the void he’s been trying to fill.”
Butterfly tilted her head back and laughed, the sound like wind chimes. “Oh, I already knew that,” she said with a giggle. “My spirit guides visited me last night and informed me all about your history. You’ll be able to celebrate your birthday again. I promise. Don’t let your mother’s death stop you from enjoying life.”
I dropped my mouth open in shock. Butterfly was legit. “Seems like you already know who I am.”
Butterfly let out a sigh, then wrapped her arm around me. I felt self-conscious from all the sweat from our morning workout. She guided me over to a picnic table overlooking the desert landscape, with a gazebo blocking the sun, and sat me down. “You’ve been chasing Hunter for five years. You came here looking for him, but maybe you really do need to find yourself. So I’ll ask again, who are you, Roe Palmer?”
“I-I don’t know. Somewhere I started wrapping my identity up in my obsession,” I whispered. Butterfly nodded politely, encouraging me to continue. “How can I find out who I am when he’s been a part of my life since the day I was born? Even if I didn’t know it, his presence was still there.”
In many ways, I felt like I had found myself. I was stronger. More determined. The girl Hunter knew would’ve never fought back the way I did last night. And yet I still felt lost. I went to college because it just felt like something to do. I moved in with Nicole because I have no one else. My only unique and defining quality was that I could write, but even that was something I didn’t know what I would do with. I lost myself during the time I was supposed to be free.
“Last night you said you are a poet,” Butterfly said while digging through her backpack. “Why don’t you just sit here and write? A lot has happened since you arrived. Take some time to process.”
I took the notepad and pen from her hands and placed it on the picnic table. “Thank you,” I replied lamely.
“See that trail over there,” Butterfly said while nodding in the distance. I followed her line of sight and stared at a path of sand. “Hunter takes the horses there every day at noon. If you wait here, you’ll see him. He’s really good with the horses,” she added in a dreamy voice.
Butterfly squeezed my shoulder and spun around to head back toward one of the main buildings. I watched her back for a moment, then drug my eyes to the notepad she’d handed me. She was right. It was time I found myself.
Citrine
Abundance.
Your heart is like a muddy puddle drought, and I’m drowning in the idea that a little more rain could clear the dirt away.
I’ll sell self-respect for a kiss,
My life for a quick fuck in a public parking lot.
You’ll toss threats in my outstretched palm.
More, please.
My sense of self is like a foggy night with bright headlights reflecting off the water molecules in the air.
I’m just trying to see. Trying to drive my car to wherever you are.
With your muddy puddles and your more.
And when I get there? I’ll wear a necklace of citrine so I can tell you how a rock brought us together. How I manifested
an ocean with a pulse by casting a single stone. I’ll be so fucking proud.
And you’ll look at me, frown, and shake your head.
More, please.
You need more than me.
ROE
“What are you writing?” a gruff voice asked at my back. I was so lost in my words and the beautiful setting surrounding me that I hadn’t noticed Hunter strutting over to me. I covered the lined paper, filled to the brim with my scrawled words, with my sweaty palm and turned around to face him, a blush of embarrassment coating my cheeks. Despite group critiques and getting a degree in English, I still turned bashful any time someone read my work. Especially when that someone was the subject of most of my poems. Hunter was the most devastating muse. They say artists have to experience pain in order to be profound, and there’s something to be said for the dozens of notebooks filled with his name.
I nearly dropped my fucking jaw on the sandy ground when I saw his shirtless torso glistening with sweat, and his denim jeans hanging low on his hips. His skin was tanned and freckled from working in the sun so much, and the dust clinging to his pants made it look like he spent all morning rolling around on the ground. He looked hot and golden. Bright.
I swallowed before answering, not sure what side of Hunter I was going to get today. Would he be the ruthless asshole who hurt me last night? Would he be the man in awe that I was standing before him? Would he be the careless, crass, indifferent acquaintance? I least liked that version of him.
“You know,” I began with a shaky voice. I wanted to sound playful and hopefully dispel the awkward, angry tension between us. “There was once a time that you didn’t ask. You just watched me or picked up my journal to find what you were looking for.” It was such a vulnerable thing to have the option of sharing your work taken away from you. He took the guesswork out of courage.
Hunter looked around while running a hand through his shaggy hair. I watched him debate what to say. Everything about his body language and stare seemed uncertain, as if he was just as curious as I was where we went from here. I’d never seen him so unsure. It was jarring. Thrusting his hands in his pockets, he then rocked on his feet for a bit before closing the short distance between us. “I’ve been trying to tell you this, Roe. That’s not me anymore.”
“I know,” I whispered before looking out over the large stretch of desert. The Joshua trees for which the small town was named cast crooked shadows on the sand, and there was a slight October chill to the dry air. Pretty soon, the mountains in the distance would be capped with snow, a stark contradiction to the vast nothing in the valley.
“Last night was a mistake,” Hunter said. I knew he’d say this, and he wasn’t wrong. I craved a tender intimacy from him that I wasn’t sure I’d ever get. He stared me down with his bright blue eyes. Though his words echoed regret, there was no remorse in his expression. I thought about last night, the invasion of his hard cock punishing me against the tabletop. I drove home with his cum dripping down my thigh and my eyes leaking with regret. Once was a mistake. Twice, a tragedy. Our pattern of fucking and leaving was getting on my nerves.
“Which part of it?” I challenged.
“All of it. You and I both know that I don’t want to hurt you, Roe. But I don’t want you here either. I will do whatever it takes to get you to leave. I can’t…” He paused to look up at the sky in contemplation, then back at me. “It’s too much to have you here.”
“And why is that? Why is it too painful to look me in the eye, Hunter? I’m not the one that left you. I’m not the one that...h-hurt you,” I croaked, my voice lingering on the word hurt.
Hunter clenched his teeth and curled his fist at his side. I feared our brief, civil conversation would soon be over. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. You’re not entitled to a fucking reason,” he growled. “Why do you think you are owed an explanation? If I don’t want you, I don’t want you.”
My mind lingered on those four little words.
I don’t want you.
I don’t want you.
I don’t want you.
He kicked at
the dust, and I watched his rambling tantrum in amusement. He was deflecting. “You’re right,” I replied with a yawn. Balling my poem in my fist, I stood up and sauntered over to him. “I’m not entitled to your reasons. I just hoped that our history would have meant enough to you to at least gift me with a little bit of closure.”
“Maybe I don’t want to think about our intertwined pasts!” Hunter yelled. “I paid my debt. I already fucking paid my debt. I want to live a life where I don’t have to think about you or your mom.”
I drew my eyebrows together. “Or my dad?” I asked. It was curious that he didn’t mention Lake Palmer.
“Yes, and your dad,” he sputtered. “Thank you for the fucking reminder.” This man killed people for a living? So why couldn’t he just let this one go? “I just want to be done, Roe.”
“Then be done!” I exclaimed. “You paid your debt, so why can’t you just let this fucking go?”
I sensed that the truth was on the tip of his tongue. Hunter fumed in front of me, his strong chest heaving up and down. I matched him breath for breath while daring him to speak, daring him to tell me why he was holding back.
“Fuck this,” he gritted before spinning on his boots and heading back toward the trail he came from. I followed after him, determination pounding through my sandals. We both kicked up dust in fury.
“You keep running from me, Hunter. The mixed signals are exhausting,” I yelled at his back. “You’re my stalker. You want to protect me, but you hate me. You want to love me but also escape me. What is it, huh?” I pressed.
He kept walking. His steps became faster and harsher. I breathlessly followed after him. The buzz of anger mixed with lust made my sweaty skin turn flushed. Would I piss him off? Would he turn around and kiss me? Kill me? Fuck me?
“Why do you feel so goddamn guilty, huh? You saved me! And I might have been pissed at the time, but Mack is probably the second best thing to ever happen to me. He really loves me, you know?”
Hunter’s steps faltered for a beat, but he recovered quickly. In the distance, I could see a large wooden structure with a fence surrounding it. Horses were playing in front of it. “You wanna know the first best thing, Hunter? It might surprise you,” I continued to press. The thing about pressure was it demanded more. You couldn’t expect anything to come to a head if you weren’t willing to press. “It’s you,” I said softly. “I know you don’t want it to be you, but it is.”
Hunter finally stopped just outside of the fence. I watched him grab a shirt that was draped over the splintered, worn wood and shrug it on. I didn’t think it was possible for a man to look sexy putting clothes on, but he pulled it off.
Hunter continued to ignore me, scaling the wooden posts and hiking his leg over so he could be inside with two white and brown horses.
They were beautiful beasts. I didn’t know a single thing about caring for them, but Hunter seemed skilled. They were massive, with tall legs, round muscular chests and white noses. Their manes were perfectly brushed, and their large brown eyes stared assentingly at Hunter.
Within seconds he was clicking his tongue, encouraging them to follow him to the barn. Not wanting to hop over the fence, I spotted a gate and let myself inside.
I wasn’t through talking to Hunter, but I also wanted to see this side of his life. It was hard to picture him in a gentle setting, caring for horses under the desert sun. He didn’t glance over his shoulder to check if I was still following, but the stress in his shoulders made me think that he knew I hadn’t given up just yet.
The barn was large and looked fairly new. Each stall was clean and organized. Various gear lined the walls, and stacks of hay were on the far west end. Hunter guided one of the horses into a stall and let the other one roam. “You seem happy here,” I commented. There was less anger in my tone. “Do you like working here? Do you ever miss Denver?”
At the mention of Denver, his lip flinched, the only sign that he could hear me. I kept talking. It was like approaching a wild animal. If you keep speaking, eventually the sound of your voice won’t startle it so much. “Not much has changed. I sometimes go to your old cabin.” I paused, waiting for a reaction. He simply grabbed a water bottle and gulped some of the refreshing liquid down. I hungrily watched his throat bob. “The grass is overgrown. It’s falling apart. Some kids even graffitied the outside.”
His brow furrowed, and his eyes flashed to mine for a brief moment. “But I went out there and painted over it. I found a bright shade of pink and covered the entire cabin with it.” Hunter flexed. I could play this game all freaking day. “It’s bright. You’d like it.”
And that’s how the majority of our day went. I sat in the barn as he worked, swinging my legs back and forth and occasionally getting up to help him. I shoveled shit for a couple of hours, and I talked about Nicole’s stripping job. He brushed their manes, and I told him about my favorite professor. I worked until my body was slick with sweat and my muscles burned. I didn’t ask his permission to help, nor did I have any idea what I was doing, but I followed his lead and told him about everything that had happened over the last five years until my voice was so hoarse I couldn’t speak.
I wasn’t sure if I was doing this for my sake or his. Gavriel’s threats seemed like a whisper as I updated him on my life. I mostly wanted him to know. I couldn’t explain it, but there was a certain comfort in sharing my life with him. Hunter was this secret force—a consistent presence in my life. I wanted that feeling again. I wanted to involve him in the day-to-day aspects of my existence.
When the sun began to set and Hunter was done for the day, I followed him to his truck and got inside the passenger seat without permission. “I’m staying at the motel off Highway 10,” I rasped while rubbing my throat. I needed some fucking water.
Hunter stared at me for a moment, determined not to break his vow of silence. I swallowed and tried to wet my tongue until a full water bottle was thrust in my face. “Thanks,” I whispered before grabbing it from him and drinking the entire thing. He hadn’t turned the car on, nor had he asked what the fuck I was doing. He just stared at me as rivulets of water traveled down my chin. And when I was done, I wiped it away with a satisfied hiss.
Hunter rested his chin on his fist and stoically stared at me. We sat in silence for a long while before he finally spoke.
“You worked hard today.”
“Worth it. I got to watch a sexy, shirtless man pet horses all day. I’m filing this day in my spank bank for all eternity.”
Hunter chuckled, and I felt thankful for the brief reprieve in angst and anger. Silence stretched for a moment before he spoke again. “It wasn’t all bad, you know. I don’t hate our time together. I just…”
I wanted him to finish his sentence, but he never did. “I know this is crazy. A lot of time has passed. I mean, it’s been five years…”
“Not enough time,” Hunter grumbled. “I wanted more for you, Roe. I wanted you to find a nice guy. Settle down. Move on.”
“That’s our problem,” I said with a sigh. “You’re more concerned with what you want for me, and all I want is you.”
Hunter looked at me, licking his lips while scratching his veiny forearm. The moment stretched on. I wanted to lean in and rub my cheek against his scruff. “Why did you come back after last night? I thought I’d for sure scared you,” he then asked, breaking the spell.
I debated on lying to Hunter. I probably should have. But I didn’t want this momentary truce to be ruined with lies. “Something scarier sent me back,” I murmured.
Hunter straightened in his seat and turned to face me. His face was shadowed with determination, and I saw hints of the man I once knew break through the cracks of my declaration.
“What are you talking about?”
“Gavriel Moretti does nothing for free,” I replied with a shrug.
Hunter shook his head in annoyance and stared up at the roof of his truck. “Of course,” he began. “He told you where I was. What deal did you make?”<
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“He said he’d give me your location if I get you to go back to work for him. He has Nicole as leverage.”
Hunter absorbed my words for a moment. I waited for the ball to drop. I waited for him to lose his mind and curse me for involving him in the Bullets’ affairs once more. “So you aren’t here for me? You’re here because someone is threatening you to be.” Hunter punched the steering wheel, a look of disgust on his face.
I could have throttled him. “Oh no you don’t,” I replied before leaning over the center console and shoving his chest. “I didn’t come here because of some threat, Hunter Hammond.” I leaned over to hover my lips over his, not caring about the sweat or my frizzy hair and the horse shit on my shoes. “I came here because, since the moment I met you, I’ve felt like I was meant to have you in my life.” Hunter’s eyes widened in surprise, but he kept quiet, allowing me to continue. “I’m here because I felt stuck in this crazy limbo for the last five years. It was like I couldn’t move on unless I knew you were okay. I wanted to look you in the eyes and feel this thing between us be over. I’ve been stuck needing you and needing closure. I made a deal with the devil because I crave you, Hunter. I ache for you. Even after five years. Even after you hurt me.”
Hunter stared at my lips while gnawing on his own. Time lingered. It was like this beautiful moment where I sensed that the old Hunter was still here. “I came here, and I saw that you’ve moved on,” I continued. “I respect that. I know that I romanticized what we had. I want to understand why you feel so much guilt. I need to know why it has to be all or nothing with us—why I can’t even have your friendship.”
“And you stayed because once again you need me,” he whispered.