Ever Always (2 page)

H
unter loved his younger brother with every breath in his body. Sam was full of grand ideas but no clue how to make them happen. This was no exception.

Not for the first time, Hunter thought his brother was a fucking idiot.

How could he just up and take off when Ever would need him most? The poor girl had just gone through a shitload of trauma. Sam should have been there to walk her through it.

But he'd left.

Hunter glanced over at Ever as they trudged through the woods back to the house where her father lay dead. Her gaze was aimed straight ahead, her chin held high. Her hands were balled into tight fists at her sides, as if she were preparing for war. And in a way, she was.

There was no way in hell Hunter was going to let her fight this battle alone.

Two sheriff's cruisers were parked in front of the house when they arrived, blue and red lights flashing. In a town this small, someone would've heard the shot and called it in.

“That you, Ever?” asked Sheriff Lincoln.

“It's me,” she called out.

“And me,” said Hunter.

“Where the hell have the two of you been? Got the call about a gunshot fifteen minutes ago. Been bangin' on the door; nobody answered.”

Hunter snorted. “So you got a report of a gunshot in the house, then waited patiently outside for someone to come to the door?”

That was Duck Creek's finest, all right.

Sheriff Lincoln glared at Hunter. There was no love lost between the Waters brothers and the town's law enforcement. Hunter and Sam hadn't been delinquent growing up, but they did what they had to in order to survive. Their mother could barely place food on the table. As soon as he was old enough, Hunter got a job at the lumberyard and moved out. Sam had worked at a garage in town to pay their mother's bills. But before that, they had to do what they could to bring money home.

“I wasn't talkin' to you, Waters. Where's that no-good brother of yours? He's never far behind.”

“That's enough,” Ever cut in. Hunter could tell by her tone that she wasn't in the mood for any of it. She wanted to get this over as quickly as possible.

Hunter caught her gaze, silently asking if she really wanted to do what she was about to do. If she did, he'd back her up. There wasn't a time in his life when he hadn't backed her. She was his brother's girl; he knew that just as well as he knew the sky was blue. But at one point, she'd just been Ever Allen from across the field. The field that separated the good from the bad. And aside from Sam, she was his very best friend.

She nodded so slightly he was the only one who noticed, and he reached for her hand. She tightened her fingers around his and squeezed.

“You better come on inside,” she said to the sheriff. Hunter heard a car door shut and turned. Brandon Charles, who graduated in the same class as Ever and Sam a couple years back, ambled toward them from his deputy vehicle.

“Why?” asked Sheriff Lincoln. “What the hell happened? Where's your daddy?”

“He's dead,” Ever answered, no emotion in her voice.

The five hours that followed were like every cop show Hunter had ever seen as officers processed the scene, gathered the gun and the baseball bat into evidence, and carted Ever's father off in an ambulance to be examined by the coroner.

Ever was stoic in her repeated version of the night's events: Her father had come at her with a baseball bat, she'd called Sam for help, and her dad had been shot. She wouldn't say who shot him or where the gun came from. Just clammed up and shook her head.

Hunter watched, impressed. It was exactly what Sam would have wanted. The sheriff automatically assumed Ever was protecting her boyfriend. It became clear Linc was just itching to put out an APB.

Finally the crowd cleared out. Ever closed the door behind the last person and leaned against the frame. Hunter could see her body beginning to tremble all over.

“Aw, Ev,” he said quietly, closing the gap between them. He scooped her into his arms before she could fall to pieces and carried her to her bedroom. He hesitated in the doorway, realizing she'd never felt safe there.

“It's fine, Hunter,” she said, her voice soft. “He can't hurt me anymore.”

He placed her gently on her bed, where she threw an arm over her eyes and curled her legs into her chest.

Sinking down beside her, Hunter reached out to smooth her dark red hair out of the way. He stared down at her.

From the moment he'd laid eyes on her, she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Back then, he hadn't registered it as beauty. She was spunky and fun, and she liked to run just as much as he and Sam did. What more could a seven-year-old boy ask for? She was perfect. Then when he was a little older, maybe around eleven, he'd noticed the way her jewel-green eyes sparkled when she laughed, and the way the light dusting of freckles on her skin made her face so much more interesting than that of any other girl he knew. The sunlight would catch in her thick hair, and he'd lose whatever stupid-ass words he'd been about to utter. The summer he turned fifteen and Ever and Sam were thirteen and a half, he noticed the way her head tilted to the side when she was thinking hard about something, and that she was beginning to develop migraine headaches when she felt upset. He tried to comfort her when she felt that way, tried to figure out what was bothering her. Sam was the fixer; he would rather make her headaches go away than find out what caused them in the first place.

“Your head hurting?” he asked her.

She nodded, lying still and quiet on the bed.

“What can I get you?”

She removed the arm covering her eyes and stared up at him. His chest clenched with something achy and sharp, and his hand involuntarily went to the spot to clutch it and make the strange pain go away.

“Can you get your brother back here where he belongs?” she asked, her eyes just as hard as the feeling in his chest.

His head dropped. He never wanted to disappoint her, never wanted to let her down. He and Sam had always been alike that way.

But
fuck
, she asked for the one thing he couldn't give her.

His brother was an idiot.

“Go home, Hunter,” said Ever.

“I'm not going anywhere. Not tonight.”

She winced against the overhead light's glare. Hunter rose from the bed and shut off the light switch by the door. He went into the bathroom where he knew her prescription migraine medicine was kept, grabbed two pills, and brought her a glass of water to accompany them.

“Here,” he whispered, handing her the medicine. She sipped the water and swallowed the pills, her eyes glittering softly in the darkness.

“You can go on home. I'll be fine.”

“There's no doubt in my mind that you will be fine one day, Ev. But today isn't that day. I'm staying. Go to sleep, and get rid of that headache. I'll make you breakfast in the morning.”

She hesitated for a second, and then she nodded as she sank back into her pillows. “Thank you.”

The fact that she felt she needed to thank him for taking care of her when Sam wasn't there to do it blew his mind to pieces.

“Sleep,” he told her.

Ever awoke to pounding on the front door that matched the pounding in her head. She sat straight up in her bed, the light streaming in her window confusing her. Was it a dream? When she went to answer that door, would she see her father sleeping off a drunken stupor on the couch?

She stood and realized that she was somehow now wearing her pajamas. One of Sam's big T-shirts and a pair of old boxer shorts. It was all she ever slept in.

She pulled a robe out of the closet and padded barefoot out into the living room.

Her father definitely wasn't on the couch. Instead, she saw rumpled blankets and a pillow occupying the space. There was no giant bloodstain on the floor.

She would've thought last night had all been a dream if not for the sharp scent of bleach and the fact that Hunter was standing next to the front door in nothing but a pair of low-slung sweatpants, his muscled arms crossed over his chest.

“Sheriff Lincoln's back. You ready?” he asked her with concern. “How's your head?”

“Feels like my daddy hit me with that baseball bat after all,” she said.

His brow furrowed. And when she looked into his face it was like breathing air into her lungs for the first time since she'd squeezed that trigger. His hazel eyes were locked on hers, his dark blond hair a spiky mess from sleep.

He frowned. “Do you want me to get rid of him?”

She contemplated. She really didn't want to deal with the sheriff, but she also didn't want to cause Hunter any problems. He'd worked hard to make a life for himself. He didn't need the shit storm about to rain down all over her.

She shook her head. “No. Go put a shirt on, for God's sake, Hunt. What will they think?”

His frown deepened. “I don't care what they'll think. And neither do you.”

A small smile tugged at her lips. He was right about that. She never cared what any of the people in Duck Creek thought. Except for Sam and Hunter, and Lacey, her boss at the bakery.

“You're right. Let's just get this over.”

He shot her a small, proud smile and allowed the front door to swing open, aiming his smirk at the sheriff. “Morning, Linc. What can we do for you?”

The sheriff stumbled as he took in the sight of Hunter answering Ever's door shirtless. Ever could see Hunter was going to enjoy the situation far too much.

“Come in, Sheriff,” she called.

He gathered himself, striding past Hunter and aiming a stern stare at Ever. “Young lady, I knew your daddy for more years than you've been alive—”

“And yet,” she interjected, “you did nothing every time he hurt me. I know he loved my mother, Sheriff, and lost a big piece of himself when he lost her. But that's no excuse for the way he treated me. I knew it, and so did you. What the hell do you
want
?”

Lincoln stared at her with his mouth agape. Ever had never had the nerve to speak this way when her daddy was still alive. She'd even surprised herself, and Hunter, who stood stock-still by the door, was unable to tear his eyes away from her face.

“I want to know where that son-of-a-bitch boyfriend of yours is,” answered the sheriff. “I know he's the one who pulled the trigger, and you're protecting him. Where is he?”

“We have no idea,” said Hunter evenly. It never took Hunter long to get himself together again after a shock. “He took off last night, and we haven't heard from him. If we do, Sheriff, you'll be the first to know.”

“Yeah.” Lincoln's voice dripped with sarcasm. “I'm sure I will.”

He turned back to Ever, his tone and demeanor softening. “Listen, Ever. I know you're going through a lot right now. You must be in shock, confused. Don't let the wrong type of people get you mixed up in something you can't get out of. You want to come stay with Missy and me?”

Only in a town as tiny as Duck Creek could someone piss you off and then invite you to stay the night in the same breath. Did she want to go stay at the sheriff's house, while his wife babied her, like they hadn't known for years that she was getting beat senseless in her own house? Was he serious?

“No, thanks,” she said with cool certainty. “I'll stay right here in my own house, where I feel safe for the first time in years. You can see yourself out, Sheriff.”

He stared at her for a solid minute, and she knew he was wondering where the timid little girl he'd once known had gone. But he'd never known the real Ever.

Had anyone?

Hunter closed the door behind Sheriff Lincoln. He leaned against it, studying her. She had the uncomfortable feeling he was sizing her up. But then she remembered that this was Hunter. She'd known him her entire life, right? He knew her. She knew him. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and slowly sucked air into her lungs. She spent a moment just remembering how to breathe again.

She suddenly couldn't pinpoint the exact moment in her life when she'd forgotten.

Finally, he pushed off the door and cocked an eyebrow. “This might be a dumb question—okay, it definitely is the dumbest-ass question I've ever asked anyone. But I gotta ask it, and you gotta answer. How are you this morning? Other than the headache, I mean. How are you…emotionally?”

She sighed. “I shot my father yesterday. I don't have a clue where my boyfriend is. I don't know what tomorrow holds for me, or the day after that. So I'm…kind of a wreck, Hunter. Does that answer it?”

His head tilted to the side as he considered her, and she had to admit he was achingly adorable. His jaw was lined with scruff, glinting softly in the sunlight streaming through the windows.

“I know what you need,” he said suddenly.

“I need to sleep for a week.”

“Nah,” he answered, shaking his head. “That's not you, Ev. You aren't going to bury your head in the sand. You're going to grieve, sweet girl. Because he was your father and maybe at one point in your life, he was a good one. But he wasn't good anymore. Not to you, not to himself. And you did what you had to do.”

He crossed the tiny room and cupped the back of her neck with both hands. “Do you hear me? You will grieve, and then you will heal. And I'm going to be here every step of the way to help you.”

She met his steady gaze head-on. It had been years since she'd stared into his eyes this way. They used to have staring contests when they were little, she and Hunter. Hunter had always blinked first. She smiled.

His lips turned upward into a smirk as he read her mind. “Go.”

They stared each other down, neither wanting to be the first to blink or look away. Finally, against his will, Hunter's eyes blinked closed just before he muttered a curse. Ever laughed out loud.