The Ground Beneath (You and Me Book 1)

by Stephanie Vercier

  “Okay,” she says. “I’ll talk to my dad tomorrow and see what he says. I’m sure he’d love to do it.”

  I’m over the fucking moon, but I can’t help asking, “You’ll really do this with me?”

  “Of course I will. I can’t wait to be your wife.”

  “And I’m going to be your husband.” It’s overwhelming from an emotional standpoint, but it’s also a huge turn on. I harden right back up inside of her.

  She kind of shakes her head and says, “We need to do it again for luck, don’t we?”

  Eagerly, I say, “I completely agree.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  ALLISON

  After we apply for our marriage license at the county building, we meet with Daniella at The Harvest Plate on Tuesday afternoon for an overdue, in person meeting.

  “Maybe we should have just met in my office, huh?” Daniella says after the second person comes up to Hunter to ask for an autograph.

  “I don’t mind,” Hunter says. “But I can’t say I liked the nasty look I got from that lady earlier.”

  I recognized the woman he’s talking about as someone that used to work at the post office. I don’t recall her ever being all that nice in the first place, and she definitely didn’t try to hide her disgust at Hunter or even me as she walked down the aisle of the diner toward the exit.

  “People are taking sides,” Daniella says. “With Micah being sheriff now and Clyde having been pretty well tolerated during his tenure, people just don’t want to believe he was capable of the things he did, that it could happen here in small town America.”

  “I wish I would have told her off,” I say, thinking how I’d just sat next to Hunter and said nothing while she glared at us.

  “Oh, I’m sure you’ll get a chance to tell someone off if you really want to,” Daniella says. “You’re mostly too nice, but some of us deserve it.”

  I think she’s talking about the last time we met in person, when I told her off for the way she reported on Abe and Wyatt’s accident. I’m not exactly sorry for that, so I don’t apologize. But what I do say is, “Well, that’s when we started talking about the accident at least. And thank you so much for all you’ve done and continue doing, for looking for the truth.”

  If she’d wanted to, she could have gone back to publishing the same kind of sensationalism she did about Abe, Wyatt and myself after Theresa spilled her news about Hunter. But while she still had to report the truth, she wrote with compassion, especially when telling the stories of the local abuse victims who’d spoken out, men and women Hunter is planning to meet with on Saturday before we leave.

  “We have to get to the bottom of this,” she says, slapping her open palm against the table. “Jessica Moore is on to the next story, so it’s up to us. It keeps me up at nights sometimes, but I just know there’s so much more about that so-called accident and maybe more abuse victims too—they’re just afraid to talk.”

  “I can understand not wanting to talk,” Hunter says. “I’m looking forward to the day when this can all be over.”

  “You mentioned you’d be seeing your father tomorrow, right?” Daniella asks, her eyes on him even as she takes a sip of her coffee.

  “I think that meeting is going to be tense,” I say. “I don’t think we should expect Hunter to press his dad for information.”

  Setting her cup down, she says, “Oh, I totally get how stressful family situations can be, but at the very least, maybe you can find out once and for all if he wanted to keep the story quiet?”

  Through his brother, Keith, Hunter already asked that question. The filtered response was no, but Daniella hadn’t been afraid to say that wasn’t good enough. Something in her eyes hints she’s beginning to wonder if Mr. Lawrence himself might have had something to do with it, not that I think it’s possible, but Daniella is looking through every objective angle she can.

  “I’ll ask him myself,” Hunter says, with a resigned sort of resolve. “I can’t guarantee he’ll answer me or that he won’t throw something at me, but I’ll do my best.”

  I take his hand under the table and hold it. “We’ll let you know,” I tell her, then ease us toward another subject, asking Daniella about paper circulation and whether or not Mr. Turner has been of any help to her.

  She talks about digital being the future but that she’s also thinking of making The Mountain Gazette a free biweekly paper fully funded by advertisers. She says Mr. Turner is against it, but that he’s pretty much against anything she does, and she just does it anyway.

  Hunter picks up the check for lunch, and we agree that we’ll meet again before Hunter and I leave town. I don’t tell her that he and I are getting married on Friday—there are still a few things sacred enough to keep from the press.

  “She doesn’t want to give up on the accident thing,” Hunter says as we drive back to my parents’ house.

  “She’s tenacious,” I agree.

  “I’m not sure how I feel about it. I know it was my choice to do that whole interview with Jessica Moore, but I don’t like the idea of people speculating on how my mom and my aunt might have been murder victims and dragging their names through the press. That’s basically why my dad cussed me out.”

  I put a hand on his thigh. “I totally get that, Hunter. It’s kind of up to you to say when it’s enough though. Maybe if Daniella still doesn’t have anything solid by the first of the year, we could ask her to stop looking.”

  He sighs. “Then I’d feel like I’m letting my mom down if there really is something out there to be discovered. Some days I don’t know what the hell to do or think.”

  “We can see how things go with your dad tomorrow and get a better reading. Maybe your brothers are more supportive than you think?”

  “Yeah, well, about all I’ve gotten are a couple of texts from each of them, saying they’re sorry for what happened to me as a kid, not much else. They don’t like to talk about anything that makes them uncomfortable.”

  “Maybe their girlfriends will be a little more open,” I offer. “They usually have a good read on what their guys are thinking.”

  He turns to me and smiles. “You know what I’m thinking?”

  “I have an idea,” I say, sure it has something to do with sex—how quickly a man’s mind can go from serious to sexual—but I can tell by his eyes that there’s a lot more to it.

  “Give me your best guess, and I’ll tell you if you’re right.”

  “Hmm. Okay. How about us going to the grocery store and buying a bunch of food and making dinner for my parents? Then we can start a fire, and we can all hang out in the living room, playing board games or watch TV, maybe even some kind of Christmas movie if we can find one. And then afterward, it’s just you and me in my bedroom where nobody can hear us through the thick walls. Am I close?”

  “Sounds pretty damn good to me,” he says, putting one of his arms around me as he changes course toward the grocery store. “I feel like I’m part of a family again, and I’m not going to lie—I like it, Alli.”

  I lean toward him, for as far as my seatbelt will let me. If his dad and brothers let him down tomorrow, it fills my heart that he knows he’ll still have us.

  The dinner is being held at Keith’s house, Hunter’s older brother.

  “Neutral ground,” Hunter says of the location as he makes his third wardrobe change. “This look okay?” he asks me.

  He now has on a dark pair of slim fit trousers, a long-sleeve plaid dress shirt and is in the process of lacing up a pair of heavy black boots, the kind you might wear to a construction site.

  “You look great, just like you did with the last two things you tried on.”

  He stops tying his shoelaces and looks up at me. “You probably think I’m being a freak.”

  “How’s that?” I ask, slipping my own pair of boots over my leggings.

  “Being indecisive about what to wear.” He smiles. “Like a girl.”

  I finish zipping my boots and playfully rol
l my eyes at him. “I’d say I’m pretty decisive in what I wear, even if it ends up being the wrong thing.”

  “You don’t have to dress all conservative for this if you don’t want to. You can wear whatever you want.”

  I join him where he sits on my bed. “I know that, but I think I should tone it down this first time. I don’t want what I’m wearing to color your brothers’ girlfriends first impression of me. And I don’t think I’m going out on a limb in thinking your mind is in the same place?”

  He nods. “Yeah. If I overdress, it’ll give my dad one more thing to latch onto to criticize me for. And then if I ask him to please shut the hell up about it, my brothers will just start making excuses for him, telling me to let it go, can’t I see how sick dad is and all.” He shakes his head. “It’s why I can’t spend any amount of time around them without losing my shit.”

  “You just say the word tonight, and we’ll leave, okay? We don’t have to stay if it gets to be too much.”

  “I appreciate that, Alli. I really do. I figure I’ve got to see this to the end though, once and for all.”

  There’s something in the way he says it, about seeing things to the end, that makes me realize that Hunter is tired, not so much physically but mentally. I can see it now, in the way he slumps his shoulders and the slight dullness in his eyes. It’s not just his mother and aunt he lost that day twenty years ago, but really his entire family. So much of what he’s had to do in his life, he’s done alone.

  “You’re really brave, Hunter,” I tell him, even knowing he’ll just brush off the compliment.

  “I don’t know. I think we’re all kind of brave sometimes. Just getting up in the morning for some people takes a lot. Just think of Logan.”

  “I do think of Logan,” I say, “but right now, I’m thinking of you.”

  The kiss he gives me is light, but thankful, a kiss that makes me wish we could do what we did on Tuesday, make dinner for us and my parents, spend the evening in, then just crawl under the covers of my bed to keep each other warm.

  But of course we have to go.

  It’s starting to snow as we drive toward Mountainside, and it’s really coming down by the time we reach the town limits. A plow is already clearing the road as we drive along Main Street.

  Mountainside is smaller than Coalton, the buildings more spread out, the pace of life a little slower. But just like the town I grew up in, it’s surrounded by mountains and is quaint in its own way, especially with the Christmas decorations and lights on display. Hunter keeps his eyes straight ahead, no fond, nostalgic looks around for him.

  “How far out of town does he live?” I ask when he turns off the main highway west of town and up a long, two-lane road.

  “Not far now. Keith has horses, so he needed the extra land he couldn’t find inside the city limits.”

  “Wow, horses. Well, that’s cool.” If everything goes to hell, at least I might get to see a few horses.

  Hunter slows then and turns into a long driveway, the snow crunching beneath his tires. It leads us to a rustic looking ranch house, smoke billowing out of the chimney. There’s fencing around the part of the property cleared of trees, but leaning forward and scanning the now white fields, I don’t see any horses.

  “They’re probably in the barn,” Hunter says, figuring out what I’m looking for. “Too cold and too much snow to keep them out.”

  “Well, at least they’re warm,” I say, then immediately notice the figure of a man standing on the front porch of the house. “Is that your brother?” I ask as Hunter parks behind a truck that looks dirty, even with snow beginning to cover it.

  “That’s Keith all right,” Hunter says, turning off the ignition. “You ready for this?”

  I put on my best smile. “Yep. I’m ready for battle. All systems go.”

  I get a smile in return, and I hope I’m doing my part in easing Hunter’s nerves.

  “Hey brother!” Keith calls out as we approach the house. “I see you still know how to drive in the snow!”

  “Like riding a bike,” Hunter says, his arm snaking around me once we’re to the top of the stairs.

  “And you must be Allison.”

  “And you’re Keith,” I say, putting my hand out. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

  I’m not sure what I was expecting with Keith, but the man in front of me isn’t it. Keith is tall and burly, with a full beard, in jeans and a flannel shirt. He wears a baseball cap on his head and a wide smile on his face. He looks like the kind of guy who wants to give bear hugs to everyone, to make people laugh and smile, not the kind of man who would make his little brother feel like he wasn’t part of the family.

  But looks can be deceiving, and Hunter knows him much better than I do.

  Keith takes my hand with both of his, shakes, then releases and says, “Hope you’ve only heard good things about me.” Laughter punctuates his words.

  “Mostly good,” I say, wanting my own words to be edged with humor.

  “I’ll take mostly!”

  Hunter cracks a smile, but it looks painful.

  “Well, come on in guys. I don’t want to freeze my balls off out here.”

  I turn to Hunter who just sort of shrugs, but his brother makes me laugh, and I just can’t help myself.

  We find warmth as soon as we walk through the door, not only in temperature but in the way we’re greeted. Keith introduces us to his girlfriend, Madison, who I’d probably describe as mousy but very pretty and maybe even a little shy. Her skin goes a shade of pink when she’s introduced to Hunter, as does that of Billy’s girlfriend, Kristie.

  “It’s really weird seeing you again in person,” Kristie tells Hunter. “I used to watch you play every Friday night back in high school, but you’re such a huge celebrity now.” Her blushing seems related to Hunter’s star status and not so much his looks, though he’s easily the best looking brother. When she turns back to Billy, her adoration for him is obvious.

  “Good to see you,” Billy tells Hunter, going in for a loose hug that Hunter complies with.

  “And it’s good to meet you, Allison,” Billy says, hugging me too.

  He’s more reserved than Keith, shorter than his older brothers, his expression hesitant but willing.

  “So nice to meet you too,” I tell him.

  Hunter is kind to his brothers’ girlfriends. He shakes their hands and tells them his brothers are lucky men.

  “How far along are you?” I ask Kristie who actually is glowing the way some pregnant women seem to.

  “Six months!” she says, one hand on her belly, the other clasped in Billy’s hand.

  “Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?”

  Kristie laughs. “We don’t really care to be honest. We just want a happy, healthy baby, so we’re painting the bedroom yellow and asking everyone to do gender neutral gifts for the baby shower.”

  Keith chuckles. “Can you believe that, Hunter? Gender neutral.”

  “It’s not a bad idea,” Madison says. “In fact, research shows that it’s actually healthy to allow a child to grow up without gender biased constraints.”

  “I agree with Madison,” Hunter says, but I’m not sure if it’s because he thinks she’s right or he just doesn’t want to see eye-to-eye with his brother.

  “Okay, fine,” Keith says with a shrug, his smile fading the smallest bit. He turns to Madison. “But if we have a kid one day, and it’s a boy, you can’t stop me from taking the little guy fishing and teaching him to play football.”

  “No. God forbid a little boy does something to make him seem like less of a man in your eyes.” Hunter looks hard at his older brother, his jaw ticking, one of his hands beginning to ball into a fist.

  “I’m sure he didn’t mean it like that,” Billy says, his voice calm. “Come on. Let’s go into the dining room and say hi to Dad and then get some food. I bet you’re hungry, right Allison?”

  When I hear my name, I look at Billy. He tilts his head to Hunter, then to
Keith and widens his eyes at me. It’s like he’s trying to tell me something in code, and so I answer, “Yeah, I am,” deciding Billy thinks there could be a brawl right here in the entryway if we don’t move along.

  The rest of the group leads the way, but I stay back, taking Hunter’s hand. I don’t need to ask him if everything is okay. I know that it’s not.

  The dining room table is already set, Christmas music playing softly in the background and casserole dishes full of food spread out. At the head of the table sits the man I know is Hunter’s dad. He stands up very slowly, his arms and legs—in fact his entire body—showing a slight tremor. Keith goes to him, helps pull his chair out and stands at his side like he’s making sure he doesn’t fall.

  “I’m glad you both could make it,” he says, his voice shaky.

  Hunter doesn’t reply or move, so I walk toward the man and put my hand out. “Hello, Mr. Lawrence. It’s good to meet you.”

  Close up, I can see how much Hunter looks like his father. Of course his dad’s hair has grayed, his skin showing signs of age, and there’s a stiffness to his body that his shaking doesn’t seem to really loosen. But the structure of his face and the blue of his eyes are so much like his son’s, so much more like Hunter than Keith or Billy.

  “You’re lovely,” Mr. Lawrence tells me, taking my hand in both of his the way Keith had done, then quickly letting go and letting his eldest son help him back into his chair.

  “Everyone take a seat!” Keith instructs, Madison guiding Hunter and I to sit at the end furthest from Mr. Lawrence, no objection from Hunter.

  As we all sit and begin talking, Keith and Billy seem anxious to guide the conversation at the table away from anything to do with the past or the recent news about Hunter and Theresa’s affair and the accusations against Clyde Mitchell.

  But by the hard looks Hunter and his father keep giving one another, I can tell they’re both chomping at the bit to say something.

  “I saw both of the Jessica Moore interviews you guys did,” Kristie says after we’ve gotten about halfway through our meal. “You both are so photogenic and brave to put yourselves out there like that.”