Ever Always (6 page)

T
he sharp pounding in her head was what initially woke her. She lay in her bed, staring up at the ceiling, trying to figure out where and when she'd bashed her head in. Then her stomach began to tumble over and over again, and she bolted out of bed and flew across the hallway to the bathroom.

She lost the contents of her guts into the toilet, and it was awful. Liquor didn't taste so great going down, but coming back up again it was absolutely vile.

“Oh God.” She gasped and heaved.

Strong hands gathered her thick mane of hair and held it, and a cool cloth pressed against her forehead while she finished retching.

“That's it, Ev.” Hunter's voice was close to her ear. “Getting it out is the only way to feel better.”

The entire night came flooding back to her, and she groaned with embarrassment. If this was what a hangover felt like, she was never getting drunk again.

Hunter's fingers brushed the back of her neck, and her stomach flip-flopped again, this time for a different reason. She was probably at her worst at the moment. Well, maybe not as bad as the night he'd walked in with Sam to find her covered in her father's blood, lying next to his lifeless body, but her second worst.

She wasn't okay with Hunter seeing her like this. Nerves suddenly fluttered through her chest. She was anxious about him holding back her hair while she threw up. Why did she feel that way? She was pretty sure that at some point in their relationship, Hunter had seen her pee in the woods, using a leaf for toilet paper.

But all of a sudden, being sick in front of him, being this unattractive in front of him, was mortifying.

She groaned again and leaned back against the wall.

“Tissue,” she gasped.

He handed her a stack, and she wiped her mouth.

“Privacy,” she tried next.

His chuckle lingered as he backed out of the bathroom.

“I've seen you pee in the woods,” he called back over his shoulder as he left.

A wild giggle escaped her as she smacked her forehead with the heel of her palm. Then she got busy.

On wobbly legs she took a shower, washing off the stench of the bar and all traces of dried makeup from her face and body. When she emerged from the bathroom in her robe, she still felt very, very ill. But she smelled fresher, and that was a relief.

Especially since Hunter was sitting on her couch in nothing but a pair of low-slung jeans and a smile.

Her eyes honed in on the tan, toned muscles that literally rippled atop his torso, especially to his rock-hard stomach and the trail of hair that disappeared into the waist of his jeans. She wished to God he didn't look this good first thing in the morning. Her mouth went dry.

“Hey,” he said with a smile. “What can I do? I bet you feel like shit.”

She nodded weakly, stumbling toward the couch. He moved over, and she collapsed to the cushions, pulling her legs up under her as demurely as she could in a robe.

“I'm never drinking again,” she announced, cradling her head in her hands.

“Yeah,” laughed Hunter. “That's what we all say the first time.”

She raised her head and glared at him. “I'm serious! This sucks!”

“You know what didn't suck?” he asked, his face suddenly playful.

“What?”

“That outfit you were wearing last night. That seriously didn't suck.”

Her pale cheeks burned shamefully. “Too much?”

“Ever,” said Hunter, his voice low and rough. “That outfit? It was the opposite of too much. And it was way too much in the very best way. I thought I was going to have to go to jail.”

“For what?”

He studied her face, his eyes roving from her eyes to her lips and back again. “You don't want to know.”

Something buried somewhere deep inside of her very much did want to know. But she nodded, shooting him a small smile. “If you say so.”

The tin clink of the lid of the mailbox outside the front door being lifted and dropped again sent Ever running to open it. She returned sorting through a stack of envelopes. She pulled out what she was hoping for—a white envelope addressed to her in Sam's handwriting.

Seeing his writing invited a swirling mixture of emotions into her chest. Elation rose to the top of that dog pile of feelings, and she tore the letter open, feeling the sting of a paper cut as she did so.

Her hands trembled slightly as she read the letter twice more. Finally, she drifted into the kitchen and sat down at the tiny table, just staring blankly at the paper in her hands.

Her emotions were still beating up her insides with the most intense kickboxing match imaginable, but now the one that fought to the top of the fray was bitterness.

Ever had never been bitter. Even on the darkest night, when her father was whaling on her, she never let it make her bitter. But now she tasted it on her tongue like stale, black coffee.

He hadn't said anything wrong in the letter, had he? No. It was just the
feel
of it. Like he was steadily moving forward, like life was getting better.

But life was better for her, too
. The silent voice in her head chided her for being angry with Sam for doing well in his new home. Maybe it was the fact that he had a new home that bothered her so much. At one point, she had been the only home he ever needed.

At least she thought she'd been.

“Let me see.” Hunter pried the paper gently out of her shaking fingers.

He scanned the letter quickly, and his chest rose and fell with the heavy breath he exhaled. He squatted down in front of Ever until they were eye level. She was still staring at her hands, so he used two fingers to pluck her chin upward until she was peering straight into his clear hazel gaze.

The combination of his touch, his proximity, and the intensity of his stare set off an explosion of fireworks in her stomach. What the hell was happening to her?

He kept his grip on her chin, and as the sparks flew between them his lips parted and her attention flew to that spot. She'd never noticed how perfectly full those lips were. They looked soft enough to…

Holy shit.
What the hell was she thinking?

She jerked backward and his fingers tightened on her chin for just a fraction of a second before he released her.

“You want to get out of here?” he asked. She didn't recognize that voice. It was Hunter's voice, but more gravelly and filled with something raw and primal. A tingle zinged through the center of her body, and had she been standing she thought her knees would have betrayed her.

“Get out of here?” she asked faintly.

“Get that letter off your brain?”

She swallowed. Somehow, that letter had already been pushed to the back of her mind. “Um, sure.”

He jerked his head toward the door. “I'll wait outside for you to get dressed, all right?”

Nodding, she squeezed past Hunter, brushing his body with hers thanks to the tiny space and setting off a brand-new fireworks display inside of her.

She'd felt something.

For the second time, Hunter knew that she'd actually looked into his eyes and really
seen
him. He wanted to jump in his truck and drive it to the moon. And he wanted to jump in his truck and drive it over the edge of a cliff.

He was a son of a bitch, he knew. For feeling that way. For allowing her to start to feel that way. He knew Ever better than
anyone.
She'd just reacted to him physically, and her body wasn't going to act of its own accord without her heart. They were a machine that worked in tandem. Guilt was going to chew her up and spit her out.

Goddamn, she was beautiful. Just staring into those big green eyes made his chest ache. Staying inside of that house while she dressed wasn't going to be an option for him. He would sit on the couch and imagine silky fabric sliding over her impossibly smooth skin. He would imagine that long, thick hair of hers hanging down her back as she closed her eyes and ran the brush through it, pulling it up and off her face. She'd sit on the bed where he could lay her down against the sheets, finally allowing his lips to punish hers…

He was done for. Ruined forever.

For Ever.

When she came out of the house, he was sitting on the steps, clutching his head, breathing in deep gulps of air to try and get himself together. It hadn't worked. But he would sure as hell pretend like it had.

“Ready to go?” she asked tentatively.

“Absolutely,” he answered. “You up for a picnic lunch?”

She smiled. “Is the sky blue? Is the grass green?”

In the truck, Ever raised her legs to the dash. Hunter stifled a groan when he looked over and saw her little purple toenails tapping out a rhythm on the surface in front of her. The shorts she wore rose skyward on her thighs, and her hair streamed in the wind blowing from the open window. Steam rose throughout his body from his instant hard-on, and he gritted his teeth uncomfortably. It was getting more and more difficult to control his physical reaction to this girl.

Food. He forced his thoughts to Miller's amazing pulled pork as he pulled into the barbecue joint to pick up sandwiches, chips, and lemonade. Anything to keep his mind off her curves, her skin, and those damn lips.

A
fter a half-hour drive to Birchfield Lake and a delicious lunch, they lay side by side on a soft fleece blanket Hunter had pulled from the bed of his truck. Their feet pointed in opposite directions, their heads matched up evenly as they peered up at the quick-moving clouds sweeping across the sky. Silence stretched for miles between them, but it was so comfortable Hunter could have curled up inside of it and fallen asleep.

He was home here, next to her. He wished she knew that.

And he was thankful she didn't.

Because she was home with him, too, whether she realized it or not. His stomach twisted with the thought that when she finally admitted it, it meant inevitable pain for his little brother.

“I know we're supposed to be avoiding all talk of Sam right now, but…” he began, “I talked to him yesterday.”

Ever turned her head so that she was staring at him, and the closeness of her lips and those burning eyes of hers gave him an electric jolt that made him catch his breath and hold it. More than anything, he needed those lips crushed against his own.

“You did?”

He nodded. “Yeah. And he wants us to come visit.”

She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth. His heart began to pound with increasing rhythm in his chest, and he wished he could tell it to shut up. She was so close there was no way she couldn't hear it. It was beating so damn hard against his ribs there was no way she couldn't see it. That lip was so plump and perfect; how long had he wanted to nibble on it exactly the way she was doing?

Too long. He'd just never admitted it to himself. He'd never allowed himself to feel anything after she chose Sam. He'd made such a mistake, not telling her how he felt about her back then. Maybe he could have saved them all of this heartache.

“Oh.”

That was all she said.
Oh.
What did that mean? Why didn't she look thrilled?

“Ev?” His voice was soft, trepid.

She'd returned her head to a neutral position, staring up at the sky again. “Yeah?”

He let a minute tick by, trying to read her and failing miserably. “You excited?”

She turned her head again, and his heart was off to the races. Traitor.

So slowly he wasn't sure it was really happening, she reached out and brushed a strand of his hair out of his eyes. Her touch sent his nerve endings into a raucous frenzy, and he swallowed a groan. His hand shot forward and caught her wrist, holding it still and frozen in midair between them. Touching him wasn't a smart idea. She couldn't touch him; his body was going to betray them both if she did.

Staring at her, he held her wrist tightly in his hand, squeezing slightly but not hard enough to hurt her. She didn't move an inch, not to pull her arm away and not to touch him again. Her tongue ventured out to lick her lips while she held his gaze. She had no idea what she did to him. How incredibly enticing she was, just being herself.

“Don't,” he finally said, his voice as dry as leaves drifting from trees in autumn.

She kept ahold of his eyes, and his heart, and his entire being, while she worked to answer him. “Why?”

“You know why.”

Finally, she broke the thin strand of emotion holding them together and sat up, tucking her hair behind her ears with trembling hands. Standing, she grabbed the bag of used utensils and plates and began walking toward the truck.

Hunter lay still, his head turned in her direction, watching her walk to the truck.

Watching her walk away from him.

A wave of panic so strong it sent nausea rolling through his stomach slammed into him, and he was up and jogging after her. His breath stuck in his throat as he ran, and he caught her hand and swung her to face him just as she reached the truck.

She dropped the bag, a strangled sob escaping her as her hands went up and tangled in his hair. Her touch sent a signal for the hundreds of wings fluttering around in his stomach to take flight, and his hands jerked on her hips, yanking her in close.

He begged her with his eyes to stop him. To stop the path of their bodies hurtling toward each other. Somehow, he figured they'd always been moving toward each other in some way, shape, or form. He was unable to hold himself at a distance from her anymore. It was wrong, and yet it was
so
right.

“Hunter,” was all she had time to breathe before his lips slammed into hers.

Jesus
Christ.

He realized he was kissing her a second after he was already doing it. Since he was already going straight to hell, he pulled her close until she was pressed flush against him. Her body molded perfectly to his. Perfectly. And the sigh that escaped her as she parted her lips was like an injection of a drug that he thought he'd never be able to quit.

His hands ran down the sides of her hips, past the denim until he found the skin of her thighs, and he savored the softness of it under his fingers. He ran his fingers back up again until he found an even softer patch of skin, at the top of her shorts where waistband met hem. His hands couldn't experience enough sin; his lips couldn't press hard enough against hers.

He tasted her—
God
, he tasted her. And no sweet thing could ever again measure up.

Then it was over. Ever braced her hands against his chest and pushed, and the spell was broken. He stepped back, rubbing the spot where her lips had caressed his. Then he was snapped back to reality when her hand shot out and slapped him, hard, across the face.

“Ev—”

“Don't!” she screamed, tears streaming down her cheeks. He stared at her face, which was so stricken he suddenly wished he could take back the last minute of both their lives just to remove that look.

“Take me home,” she snapped, turning and wrenching open the truck door.

She was silent the entire ride back to Duck Creek, staring out the window. When he glanced at her, the sting of her pain seared across his skin. It physically hurt to look at her. Because he'd just experienced the very best moment of his life, and he couldn't even enjoy it. Because he had hurt her. And he wasn't sure if he'd be able to fix it.

When he pulled up at her house, she didn't wait for the truck to come to a stop. She opened her door and leaped out, running at full speed for her front door. Hunter got out and stood there, both hands gripping his hair, a roar threatening to rumble from deep inside his chest.

There was no point in running after her. She wasn't going to open the door to him. Not now. The curse he muttered was lost in the stifling air, and he got back in the truck, slammed the door, and drove home.

Ever couldn't seem to keep enough breath in her body as she poured out her life story to Rilla on her living room couch. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and prayers, and her heart was fluttering around in her chest.

“Oh, honey.” Rilla shook her head sadly. “I hate seeing you like this. And now that I know everything you've been through…so much makes sense. That haunted look in your eyes. That doesn't get there without years of heartache and pain. I'm so sorry you're going through all of this now.”

Ever shook her head, angrily shaking away her tears. She'd had enough for one lifetime, hadn't she?
Damn…how much could one person take?

Now she occupied the slim space between two brothers. She'd chosen Sam long ago, without even realizing she had a choice. What if she had chosen Hunter back then? Could she have saved them all some of the pain she was now inflicting?