Finding Forgiveness (Finding Series, Book 4) (9 page)

“Can I make you some breakfast?” she asked, her voice hollow and dull.

God, would this be what he would look like when he was her age? Like he’d lived a thousand lifetimes and hadn’t enjoyed any of them?

The easy thing to do - the expected thing – would be to give her a quick kiss on the cheek, tell her he loved her, get his things and go. It was what she wanted and truth be told, a part of him wanted that too. Because doing anything else would likely mean he’d have to hear things he didn’t want to hear. If he just kept his mouth shut like he was supposed to, the two of them would go on being what they’d always been – props in someone else’s life.

Hunter went to his mother’s side but instead of leaning in to kiss her, he reached for the iron’s power cord and pulled it free of the outlet. His mother actually kept ironing until he put his hand over hers. Her lackluster eyes finally lifted to meet his and he carefully took the iron and set it aside.

“Your father has a lunch meeting and he needs his blue shirt because he’s wearing his pin stripe blazer and white takes away from-”

“Mom,” he said gently and took her hand in his. The contact finally seemed to snap her out of her daze and her fingers lifted to brush over the wound on his cheek. She stopped just short of actually touching it though.

“Hunter, you have to remember your father knows what’s best…”

Disappointment went through Hunter as he realized his mother assumed the injury on his face had come from his father…and that he’d somehow done something to warrant it.

“Mom, why didn’t you tell me the truth about what happened after I left?”

Her eyes dropped instantly and another streak of hurt hit him. She knew exactly what he was referring to but he voiced it anyway. “You told me the stuff with Finn Stewart blew over – that everything went back to normal after I left.”

“You always had a soft spot for boys like him…troublemakers,” she said firmly as she smoothed her hands over the collar of the shirt. “He got what he deserved for doing what he did.”

Hunter reared back as if she’d struck him. “I told you the truth about that night, Mom. I told you it wasn’t his fault. That I started it. You said…you said if I stayed away, that if I left things alone it would all go away.”

His mother shook her head. “No, that boy, he tricked you into saying that stuff. I knew he’d do it again if you came back.”

Hunter actually felt bile creeping up the back of his throat. All this time he’d thought he had a secret ally in his mother. That if and when he really needed her, she’d be there for him. He’d been terrified that she’d hate him when he’d admitted that the encounter with Finn had been because he’d instigated it but when she’d said she understood, he’d taken that to mean she was okay with it…with him. But she’d done the same thing as his father – used his lie to hide a truth she didn’t want to accept.

“Why?” Hunter asked.

His mother reached up to plug the iron back in. “Your father needs this shirt because the white one isn’t right for the pin striped blazer.”

Hunter just stood there waiting and hoping that she’d look up and say something, anything that would explain everything away. That some miracle words would fall from her lips and his world would right itself once more. But she kept ironing away and when she asked him if he wanted her to make breakfast, he left the kitchen and ran up the stairs to his room. The familiar ache in his gut kept churning and twisting until his skin itched. He tried shaking the feeling loose but it just kept building and building. He ran his hand over his pocket and bit down on his lip hard when he felt nothing. He hurried to the bathroom and actually let out a cry of relief when he saw the spoon lying on the floor and the lighter sitting in the sink. He slammed the bathroom door shut but it didn’t latch into place since the housing in the door frame was bent.

Because Roman had been desperate to get to him. To make sure he was okay.

Hunter snatched up the spoon and grabbed the lighter and sat down on the floor. He yanked his sleeve up and then got the lighter going and held the spoon over it. He watched the flames lick at the metal and felt his whole body draw up tight in anticipation. Long after he knew he should pull the lighter away, he kept it there. And then he looked down at his arm to find the perfect spot. He released the button on the lighter and let it fall to the floor, the sound ricocheting through the room. He lowered the spoon to just above the delicate skin on the inside of his wrist. The burn would be harder to hide but maybe the pain would stick around long enough this time to…

To what?

When will it be enough, Hunter? How much pain do you need to feel before you start forgiving yourself?

Roman’s words clung to every corner of his brain as the intense heat from the spoon drifted over his skin. He wanted it so bad he could taste it. But how long until he would need it again? The pain from yesterday’s burn still radiated up and down his arm but it hadn’t even made a dent in the turmoil coursing through him. Would the next one be any different? Would it change any of the million things that were wrong in his fucking little life?

I wish I could take this from you, Hunter.

Hunter opened his eyes and wasn’t surprised to find his vision blurred by tears. He climbed to his feet and went to the sink to turn on the cold water. He held the spoon beneath the running water for several long seconds and then tested the bottom of it carefully to make sure it was cool to the touch. Then he tossed it into the garbage can. He did the same with the lighter and then scrubbed his face. The churning in his belly had eased by the time he grabbed his backpack off the chair by his desk. He knew he didn’t have the strength to face his mother so he exited the house through the front door and went to his car. A glance at the clock in the dash showed that if he left now, he could still make it to his
Intro to Political Science
class. He backed his car out of the driveway and headed towards the road that would take him north to Missoula. But by the time he reached the last intersection on the way out of town, he knew there was a stop he needed to make.

***

Hunter’s hands were shaking so bad that he ended up folding his arms in an effort to keep from reaching for his empty pocket. He hadn’t seen any cars outside the barn when he pulled in but he knew they could just be up at the main house at the top of the hill. Since it was the middle of the day, it was highly likely that the inhabitants of the CB Bar Ranch were out in the fields checking on the cattle that were the ranch’s lifeblood. If that were the case, he’d have to find some place to settle in and wait them out because he wasn’t going to chicken out now. He just hoped like hell that if the big cop who’d slugged him yesterday was the first person he encountered, he’d somehow last long enough to still be able to verbalize his apology if and when Finn showed up.

The brand new barn looked like it had just recently been painted. It had been little comfort to learn that no animals had been killed when the old barn had been torched. He’d managed to glean a little bit of information about what had happened that day as he’d been talking to Luke but he hadn’t pressed the other man for details because he hadn’t wanted to hear the disdain in Luke’s voice that he knew would be there since they both knew whose fault it was that Finn and the men he loved had had to endure so much unjustified hatred. He’d been horrified when he’d overheard Gray telling Roman about the barn yesterday but he’d nearly lost it when Gray had said Finn had gotten shot. Luke had reassured him this morning that Finn had made a complete recovery but it didn’t change the fact that it never should have happened in the first place.

The barn was empty when Hunter entered so he walked all the way through it to the other side which led to some pastures. He could see several horses grazing in the larger pasture on the hill behind the barn but there was one horse standing nervously in the center of a round corral just beyond the barn. It shifted uneasily at his approach and then moved as far away from him as it could when he folded his arms across the top of the fence. Even from a distance, he could see scars covering the animal’s nearly all white coat. He took a few steps around the edge of the corral to get a closer look and began humming the tune of one of his favorite songs to try to soothe the animal as he neared it. To his amazement, the horse didn’t move. It shifted back and forth and tossed its head several times but stayed where it was. Hunter once again folded his arms over the top of the fence and began singing the words to the song. By the time he was done, the horse had actually taken a few steps toward him.

The animal watched him warily and although it didn’t come any closer, it didn’t move away either. “I get it,” Hunter whispered to the animal and he watched its ears flick forward. They watched each other for a while until the horse’s ears began to twitch and then it started shaking its head again and striking the ground with its massive hoof. It let out a sharp whinny and then backed up until it was as far away from him as it could get. It wasn’t until a voice spoke from off to his right that he realized he was no longer alone.

“Can I help you?”

The man watching him from near the barn door was huge – bigger than Roman or even the cop who’d tried to kick his ass yesterday. His black hair was partially hidden by a brown cowboy hat and he was wearing a long sleeved work shirt and faded blue jeans. Hunter had no doubt he was looking at Callan Bale, the owner of the CB Bar Ranch and Finn’s other lover. He swallowed hard and tried to speak but found that the words wouldn’t come out. So much for not letting his cowardice show.

The man began walking towards him and Hunter was ridiculously proud of himself for standing his ground.

“His name’s King.”

“What?” Hunter asked stupidly.

The man nodded towards the horse. “His name’s King. The rescue group that saved him named him that because of what he had to go through to get here. They figured a strong horse deserved a strong name.” He draped his arms over the corral and studied the horse who had settled down somewhat but still seemed agitated.

“This is as close as he lets me get to him,” the guy said quietly. “It’s been four months. We have to use those” – the man motioned over his shoulder to a bunch of metal gates leaning up against the fence – “to move him back and forth from his stall and we have to sedate him for the vet to look at him or for the farrier to work on his feet.”

“I’m sorry,” Hunter murmured as he looked back at the horse.

“What were you saying to him?”

“What? Nothing,” Hunter blurted. But when the guy just pinned him with a hard stare, Hunter said, “I wasn’t talking – I was singing.”

The man didn’t respond at first. “You told him you get it,” he finally said.

Damn, the man had good ears.

“Get what?” he asked as he turned his back on the horse and stared at Hunter.

“Nothing,” Hunter answered quickly.

“I’m Callan Bale,” the man finally said and when he extended his hand, Hunter wanted to throw up. God, a few more seconds and this man was going to tear him limb from limb.

Steeling himself, Hunter didn’t reach out his hand. Instead he said, “Mr. Bale, I’m Hunter Greene.”

The blow he was waiting for never came. There were no words of hatred or damning him to hell. Instead Callan just said, “I know” and continued to hold his hand out expectantly.

Hunter shook his hand briefly, half expecting the man to sucker punch him as soon as he took it but Callan merely gave him a quick shake and then released him. When his big hand reached for his face, Hunter took a step back before he could stop himself. His move only caused Callan to hesitate for a moment and then he was gently tilting Hunter’s face to the side.

“Rhys shouldn’t have done this,” he murmured. “I’m sorry.”

Something inside of Hunter shattered into a million pieces. “What?”

“I said I’m sor-”

“Oh my God,” Hunter said as he wrapped an arm around his stomach to staunch the pain he felt. If he hadn’t known better, he’d have thought there was a mortal wound that had ripped him open and all his life’s blood was spilling from his body and pooling on the dusty ground beneath his feet. “Please, Mr. Bale…please don’t ever say that to me again.”

“Why not?” Callan asked gently…too gently.

“You know why not,” Hunter whispered. “Is he…Is he here?” Hunter managed to ask.

“No,” Callan said. “He and Rhys went to Bozeman to look at a bull. Finn’s got some ideas about how to improve the quality of our herd,” Callan added. “He’s taken over the ranch so I can focus on doing what I love,” he said as he nodded at the big horse who was still watching them from a safe distance.

Hunter had no clue what to say to that since he had no idea why Callan was sharing so much information with him. Hell, the man should have kicked him off the property the second he laid eyes on him.

“He’s okay, Hunter,” Callan suddenly said and Hunter realized his thoughts must have been written all over his face.

Tears threatened to fall as he realized how much he’d needed to hear those words.

Hunter nodded quickly. “I’m sorry for everything, Mr. Bale. I truly am,” he said in a rush. “I’ll fix things – I’ll make sure people know it was me.”

Hunter began walking before he even finished speaking because the tears were already falling down his face. He’d steeled himself for hatred, derision, rage. He’d done nothing to prepare himself for kindness.