by Mara Lynne
“I got a call from mother,” Damien says, breathless.
Hunter gathers his legs up, gritting his teeth together. “Why didn’t you look after her?”
“Now, this is my fault?” Damien’s voice rises. “This would not have happened had you sock your own cock!”
“Eh, sir… We’re in a hospital,” Paul interjects. People in the lobby are already staring at them. “You might want to calm down.”
Damien sits on one of the benches, but Hunter continues to pace around.
When a female doctor comes out of the emergency room, they quickly head to meet her.
“Who’s the father?” the doctor asks.
“I am!” both reply at the same time.
Their gazes meet, intensifying when nobody seems to be withdrawing.
“I am the biological father,” Hunter insists.
And so Damien is silenced.
“Name?” the doctor asks while jotting notes on her clipboard.
“Hunter Stone.”
“How long is Mrs. Stone pregnant?”
“She isn’t Mrs. Stone,” Hunter replies.
The doctor’s surprised gaze shifts from Hunter to Damien.
“I’m marrying her,” Damien feels the need to say something.
“Oh!” The doctor certainly seems shocked, but she continues to act professionally. “We almost lost the baby. Her pregnancy is high-risk. We could have done something to prevent this by having a healthy lifestyle. No more alcohol. No cigarettes. No sleepless nights. She will need a complete bed rest until the medications work. The baby is barely holding.”
“But the child will be okay, right?” Hunter does not forget to ask.
“He is at the moment,” the doctor replies.
“Thank you, doc.”
“Are you not coming inside to see the mother?”
Damien does not want to, and neither does Hunter.
“I think I’ll check on Ms. Gregory,” Paul states.
***
Damien tosses a can of beer to Hunter who’s leaning his arms against the railing of the hospital roof top.
“Candice is recuperating,” Damien says, opening a can for himself. “She’s got all these bags of fluid hooked in her arms.”
The sound of screeching tires from the speeding cars down below is a rather compelling diversion to calm Hunter. His heart skipped a beat that moment he heard Paul talking about Candice’s near miscarriage. At that moment, he could only think of the baby. Blood rushed through his face, leaving every vital organs he has parched. It was horrible, he thought.
“I talked to her about her partying. I told her I’d terminate her exclusive membership in Rodeo Drive,” Damien begins. “She worries more about Armani’s new clutch bag than her well-being.”
“That’s why I cannot understand you,” Hunter responds. The idea of marrying such a selfish and materialistic woman pisses him off.
“Did you tell Angel?”
“I was expecting you’d be the one to reveal it,” Hunter replies as he turns to face him. The beer runs through his throat, leaving a bittersweet taste in his tongue. He sees defeat in his brother’s gaze, something he has not seen in a long time.
“When are you going to tell her?”
“Soon enough.”
“Don’t keep it long, Hunter.”
Hunter smirks. “I’d be damned if I do.”
“I know why you’re doing this, Damien. And I don’t think I deserve it.”
“You’re my brother. I took away what you have always wanted. Now is the time I pay for it,” Damien says.
“And I took away the person you love most.”
“If you are in my shoes, Hunter, I know you’d do the same. After all, we are still a team.”
Hunter knows what Damien is ought to do.
His chest is wrenched as he hears his little brother say those words. The last time Damien spoke of it were the days they were friends with Will and the gang, those days when they’d choose games over school, friends over family… loyalty over safety.
A team—that is what they have always been.
“I miss those times,” Damien says.
“That was a mistake,” Hunter mutters. “Don’t get me wrong, I cherish those moments, but I knew I should have not done it. I put your life in peril. I failed to become a role model to you. Instead, I taught you to smoke, drink, play with women, and deal with awful people.”
“It’s already in the past, Hunter. You were always the one protecting me. I owe you a lot.”
Damien does, but Hunter does, too. Putting his happiness over his own is one thing Damien is willing to sacrifice.
“You know you will always have my back, bro,” Damien says.
Chapter 33 – Breaking Softly
Her calls all go to voicemail every time she tries to reach Hunter. When she arrived back to New Jersey, the maids told her that Hunter had left and seemed anxious when he called for his car to be ready.
She has been held in this room for who knows how long. The clock is ticking so slow, and she knows that her anxiety is starting to get out of her control. Hunter’s not answering her calls. What’s she supposed to do? For almost a week in Colombia, she is wary of what could have happened to him back here. What trouble has he gotten into that he could not even answer her calls? Is the situation in the company so bad that he had to leave home in the middle of the night? Liza, the maid, said that Hunter had been not himself for several days already.
“Sometimes, miss, he’d skip dinner and lock himself up in his room. Then he’d leave the house without even telling when he’s returning,” said Liza to her. “Then…”
“Yes, what is it, Liza?”
She fumbles, but young Liza went on with what she has to say. “Then sometimes I’d see him just staring at his ringing phone, intentionally avoiding calls.”
Why would Hunter avoid her calls? Why would he not pick up? What could possibly be bothering Hunter? Had she done something to make him avoid her?
Just thinking of Hunter losing interest on her makes her sick, but she could not think of any other reason for treating her with cold shoulders. And though he’d send her text messages every now and then, they don’t feel like enough security blanket for her. What if Hunter has realized that he’s not really in love with her? What if by rejecting and avoiding her calls, he’s initiating the process of severing their ties? What if he’s found someone else who makes him happier?
Angel sits on the couch near the window, waiting for any sign of Hunter’s arrival. Her eyes are already turning white.
“Ms. Mohr?” Liza enters the room carrying the wireless telephone from the living room.
A tear falls off the corner of her eye, and before Liza notices it, she quickly wipes it away.
“There’s a call for you.”
“Who is it?” She walks toward Liza and takes the phone.
“Didn’t say his name, ma’am,” she replies. “But he said he wanted to talk to you about Mr. Stone.”
Hunter?
“Thank you, Liza.” And she sends her out. “Hello?”
“Hello, Mrs. Stone.”
She recognizes the voice. Every cell of her ears knows whose voice this is.
“Will?”
How on earth did Will know of this telephone number?
Her chest lurches like a pair of hollering tigers, and the air seems to dry up; her vision blurs over like window panes in the middle of a blizzard. She closes her eyes and waits for something to get her out of this unwanted situation.
This could not be Will… Please let her be wrong this time, she prays.
“Oh! You remember me! I’m deeply moved,” he sounds enthusiastic. “But I am not calling you for some good news. Actually, it’s quite the opposite.”
“Is this about Hunter?” Her voice shaking. Her heart misses a beat, then it begins to run irregularly and loudly.
“Yes. He’s at the hospital right now.”
“Oh, God! Is he hurt? What hap
pened to him?” Angel finds herself running down the stairs. An unsettling feeling begins welling inside her. There’s just something wrong, but she couldn’t quite tell what it is. However, she knows it’s about Hunter. Right now, it’s all about Hunter.
“Just go there and see your man. He’s bloody…”
Right before he could even continue, she hangs up the call and tosses the phone to Liza who was waiting outside the door.
***
A dozen needles dance their way across her forehead as she scans the room filled with ailing patients—plagued by all sorts of health complaints she’s seeing for the first time, too awful and dreadful to stare at. There seems to be a road accident because of the presence of police in the emergency room. Doctors and nurses position themselves around the beds to attend to their patients covered with horrendous open wounds and cuts. Blood is flowing like a freshly fixed water pipe.
Her stomach twists at the sight, and her heart lurches out of its cavity as the thought of Hunter being one of the unrecognizable victims surfaces. Her tears are stuck at the crook of her eyes, and only her faith and remaining self-control are preventing her from falling to the ground.
Her eyes search for him. That tiny little voice in her head is yelping for Hunter’s name.
“Angel?” A confused Eric Martin appears in her view. His coat is drenched in blood and his hair is stuck in a plastic scrub cap. “What are you doing here?”
“Hunter! Do you know where I can find him?” she asks, bursting into tears.
“Hunter?” The puzzled look in his face asking, “Do you know about it?”
“Know about what?” Her eyes are still scanning the entire room, holding on to that little hope that Hunter could not be here. “I need to find him. Help me, please.”
“Alright… alright… I’ll bring you to him.” He gets himself out of his white coat and all the blood-stained clothes he has and wears a clean white one. He then writes a few things on a paper which a nurse provides, and informs his team that he will be back in a minute.
“Is he okay?” she asks. The elevator stops at the ninth floor where suite rooms are located. They trudge down the hall until they reach the nurse’s station.
“I’m sure Hunter has told you about it,” he says.
Yes, Hunter tells me everything, she thought. He never tried keeping anything from her, that’s why she’s too surprised as to why Eric is talking nonsense this time, like he knows something she does not.
She’s come to a realization that Hunter could not be involved in that bloody mess in the ER.
“I’m just so relieved you’re still together,” Eric adds.
“And why would you think we broke up?”
Eric’s eyes widen, his glare at her painstakingly fixed and frozen; awed and confused.
“Oh, God! You don’t know,” he murmurs to himself.
“What is it that I don’t know?” She grasps him by the arm.
He keeps his mouth shut, pressing them into a thin line, the whole time they are marching down the corridor until they reach the lobby where an exhausted-looking Paul is busy dusting off his phone.
“Ms. Mohr?” He stands right away. The blood has drained away from his face. Then his head turns from right to left.
“Where’s Hunter, Paul?”
His voice breaks. “Mr. Stone is currently occupied, miss.”
Eric buries his hands on his face, hoping he could keep the shame from anyone.
“Occupied? I thought he’s injured or something. Why is he here anyway?”
No one answers. The silence is deafening. Angel sees a lot of reluctance in Paul’s face and gestures. Even Eric has completely gone mute.
“Is there something you’re not telling me? Where is Hunter?”
If he is hurt, then why would they hide it from her? Hunter would need her by his side.
“Damien?” His name feels like ghost to lips. Surprises seem to be bottomless tonight. She could swear that her eyes are truly seeing what they are transmitting to her brain.
“Angel…” Damien whispers. The cork that plugs his throat loosens.
Their gazes meet, and out of nowhere, everything just seems unreal to her.
“When did you come back?” His voice sounds desperate, reeking with secrets.
“How did you know I was away?”
Damien shakes his head, signaling for Paul and Eric to leave.
“Of course, you know a lot of things! Maybe you know where Hunter is,” she tells him.
“Hunter is…”
“It’s okay, Damien.” Hunter appears from the same corridor Damien came from. He heaves a deep breath. The resolve to tell her everything strengthens. “It’s about time she knows everything.”
***
And he tells her.
About Candice.
Cardiff.
Trivial Pursuit, and more than five tequila slammers.
His stupidity for believing the pill story.
It was the most classic and finest stupidity he’s ever seen and done in his lifetime.
And Angel says nothing—nothing at all except for the contained sobs, the unspoken words that hurt Hunter more. She’s very quiet while he was narrating the facts and admitting how much of a fool he has been. Her silence is making him want to be somewhere else. Perhaps talking about it inside his parked car was not a very good idea. Like in most movies, couples usually break up in car parks, and that’s the last thing he wants to happen now. No. Never.
The feeling of being yanked out and disembodied in a moment, the feeling of his skin being peeled off, leaving him vulnerable—that’s exactly what he feels in this dreadful silence. The safe boundaries of his flesh suddenly dissolves, leaving him naked, making him feel stripped off the most important thing in his life right now—her trust.
“Say something, please,” he pleads with her, trying to reach for her hands.
But Angel quickly pulls her hand away from him and wipes away the beads of tears that fall down her cheeks. Her heart is shedding tears. She’s dying inside. There is rawness in there, like an open wound, feeling the fresh pain. It would take a long time for it to wane. She wishes she has something to grip on to for support, anything, a chair or a table. However, she doubts if it could do anything to stop the pain and misery.
She stifled the sobs at first, attempting to conceal the shock and grief, but when Hunter speaks again, talking about how he regretted things and how sorry he is for not telling her, the wave of emotions reaches its peak, overcoming the walls she has built. She breaks down entirely, all her defenses washed away in a flick of a second. When she finally gave him the opportunity to meet her gaze, she sees a person trudging the road of suffering and atonement.
“Please, babe, I’m sorry,” he begs as his hands continue to find a way to touch her, to stop her from shaking.
Angel does not move away this time as she feels Hunter’s hands on her face. They feel so tight and secure as if it’s the solution to all this pain. He brushes his fingers under the edges of her eyes and clears them away. Then, he pulls her to his chest where she stays until her crying stops, until his shirt absorbs all her tears, until the heavy burden in her chest sheds a few tons in weight.
Her beautiful large eyes are red, swollen, and sore.
He raises his hand and strokes Angel’s hair, caressing them.
Just when she thought she could trust him with everything, her vulnerability included, Hunter broke it. What makes things sadder and more painful is that she is mad at him, yet she has no reason to be.
It was an accident that happened before they were a thing. He did not want it to happen.
Besides, she did the same thing to him before—keeping secrets to protect him from pain. After all, love is selfish.
But Hunter proved his love by not giving up on her. He took her back and even loved her more. And so Angel can’t really say love is selfish—Hunter made her realize that. And although her heart still cries, she knows she must listen to him.
She grips the top of his tie and pulls him, letting their foreheads kiss.
With her eyes closed, she hears Hunter sigh. She instantly knows what it means—it is the sigh of relief.
She opens her eyes, and his eyes bore into her. Those dark eyes, the color of the sea at night, are warm, showing the joy that has sparked within him. From the gentle pressure of his hands on her face, she could tell that his nervousness is gone.
He is leaning in so close to her, and she knows that she has made the right choice.
Chapter 34 – Entrapped
Candice is crying when she enters her room. Her eyes are bloodshot red and swollen.
“Oh, my goodness! It’s three in the morning, and I still have visitors!” Candice laughs sarcastically. She has been crying after Damien warned her to get her act straight or she’ll find herself on the streets after she bears the child.
“How are you feeling?” Angel asks.
“Upset,” she scornfully answers. “How should one feel when your fiancé calls off the wedding and threatens to sue you for fraud? He’s threatening to take away my child just because I almost lost it.”
“If I heard it right, you said you’d rather rid of the child than get yourself busted.”
“Either way, I’d still get myself in prison. Damien’s calling Child Protection Services to oversee my actions until I give birth. He did not even listen to me. I kept telling him I want my baby.”
“If you get the chance to talk to him, what would you tell him?”
Candice gives off a haughty laugh. “I’d tell him he has no right to take away my child from me. But I would rather have Damien care for the baby than let Hunter have him. There’s no way in this world I’d let him.”
“But Hunter has the right—”
She cuts her off quickly, “Yes, he does, but I’ll save you the trouble of investing time and effort in taking care of something that is not yours. I bet Hunter would not want the responsibility.”
“Candice, Hunter would love to have the child. If only you give him the chance—”
“Don’t try to defend your lover, Mohr. Hunter Stone is not capable of allotting empathy and love to his child—not even a shred—just because it’s from me. I’m not giving the child to him after what he’s done to me.”