Authors: Casey Elliot
*****
Melanie
"Nice car for an ex-con," I muttered as I slid into the passenger seat of his shiny new Camaro.
"A gift from a friend," he replied.
I snorted, a friend; of course. How long had Hunter been out before Sergei was plying him with gifts again? That man was straightforwardly devious.
I directed Hunter to the daycare, but was otherwise silent. I had to suppress a laugh when we got out of the car, and I watched him approach the front gate, which was painted a vibrant orange. He looked like he'd stepped out of a biker bar and straight into a children's book. The effect was comical.
Nonetheless, he walked with the same ease and surety into the inner play area as he did everything. I had to give him props for that. I'd never seen that man nervous, never seen him anything but strong and unyielding. He might not fit in with his surroundings, but he'd make his surroundings fit in with him. It was his aura.
God, it was attractive.
I dragged my eyes from him to the surrounding area, looking for Emmy in all of the ruckus. She was in the sandbox in the back corner, and I frowned. Always the damn sandbox. She'd be trailing sand around the house for days.
"Emmy!" I called across the yard.
Her little, curly, blond head perked up and she ran directly for me, abandoning whatever sand creation she'd been working on. I saw the two band-aids that Joan had stuck onto her knee, and was assured that her wounds were just as non-life threatening as Joan had said.
"Mommy!" Emmy yelled, running into my arms.
I picked her up and hugged her, holding her to my chest. She was getting heavy. I wouldn't be able to do that for much longer.
"Who's that?" she asked, pointing and staring at Hunter in the way kids do. "He's big."
I laughed. "That is my friend, Hunter, Ems," I said.
I saw Joan making a beeline for me from the house, and I plopped Emmy onto the ground. "Why don't you go say hi to Hunter while I go talk to Joan, okay?"
"Okay!"
I allowed Joan to pull me to the side. She was an older lady, probably in her late forties. Her and her husband ran the daycare, though they hired help during the busier hours of the day. She was constantly concerned about my love life.
"Who is that?" she asked. Unlike Alexa, she did not seem as enthusiastic about Hunter.
"It's my ex," I said, looking over at Hunter.
That was a mistake. My heart immediately melted. He had squatted down face to face with Emmy, and was listening to her chat excitedly about her day. His face was bright and amused, and I could see his love for her written all over it.
I turned back to Joan who was mid-sentence. "…….expected that from you."
I blinked at her. "Sorry, could you repeat that?"
She smiled warmly at me. "I was saying he looks like exactly the opposite of your type, but now, I'm beginning to wonder if he was the one who made guys who look like him not your type."
I ran a hand through my hair. Joan was always so wise. "I'm not sure what I should do," I said, more quietly. "He just showed up out of nowhere. I can't just let him back in my life."
Joan's eyes widened. "Absolutely not!" she said. "Nobody's asking you to."
"He is."
She chuckled. "I doubt he seriously expects you to just jump back into the grind with him," she said. "Just talk to him. I think you'll regret it if you don't. You don't have to do anything, but at least, you can hash out the problems you guys have."
I furrowed my brow. "Our problems are so old they're not even relevant anymore. I have a different life now."
She patted me on the back. "If you didn't still have problems that needed figuring out, you wouldn't be asking me what to do."
I gave her a sidelong glance, all the while staring at Hunter and Emmy. He was so patient with her, so interested in everything she had to say. It hurt my heart to look at.
"Time to go!" I announced loudly. "Hop to it, little bunny."
Emmy enthusiastically began to hop down the pathway to the front gate. Hunter hung back and waited for me.
"Oh crap," I said, turning back to Joan. "Can I borrow a car seat?"
Joan's spare car seat, covered in little dinosaurs, looked ridiculous in the back of Sergei's convertible. I still called it Sergei's car, eventhough Hunter said it was a gift. It wasn't Hunter's until he had paid for it, as far as Sergei was concerned. That much I was sure.
Hunter didn't seem to mind though. He had a look of mild amusement on his face, as I strapped Emmy in, and then climbed into the front seat, but he didn't say anything.
"You and I need to have a talk," I said, as he pulled onto the road.
Hunter nodded, his eyes glued to the road in front of him. "Yeah."
We said no more, besides me giving him directions to my place. I needed the time and space to think anyway. What could he ever say to make up for what he did, or rather, what he didn't do?
It made me angry just thinking about it.
I had thought about it so many times during the years. I'd even written him letters, but I'd torn them all up and thrown them away. I had thought that I would have more time than this. I thought he'd be gone for another five years, at least.
And yet, here he was, driving me and our daughter to my quaint little home in the suburbs. Palm trees and mountains rolled past the windows, and I pressed my forehead to the glass and watched the world pass by.
Hunter
I knew it wasn't a good thing when Melanie was quiet. She was never quiet. It was a trait, I could see that she had passed it on to our daughter. That delighted and amused me.
Maybe Melanie had turned into a quiet person though. Just because I was the same, didn't mean she hadn't changed. But, I knew her. I knew looking at her that she was still the girl who had come up to blurt out cheesy pick-up lines at me; just turned twenty-one, just starting to embrace her womanhood. One minute, I'd been playing pool, and the next, there was a tall and cheerful looking brunette at my shoulder, asking me if I knew how much a polar bear weighed.
*****
She was still there. Maybe she was a little older and wiser, probably too wise now to approach the biggest guy in the bar looking like she did, but she was still my girl.
And, I was going to get her back.
The house we pulled up to was small, but fairly new looking.
"Nice place," I commented.
She turned around to unstrap Emmy. "It's a rental."
We got out of the car and Emmy ran up the stairs, nearly tripping over herself. "Is that how you got that cut on your knee?" I asked her when she looked back at me, and grinned after almost keeling over.
"Yup!"
At the door, Melanie let Emmy in first, and then turned to me. I was close to her, so close that I could see the way her cheeks flushed at my proximity. Her mouth was parted slightly, her brow furrowed. That was how I always knew she was thinking hard about something.
"I don't want you to think that just because I’m talking to you, it means I've forgiven you," she said.
I returned her gaze, a smile at the corner of my lips. "You’ve made that pretty clear."
She inhaled and nodded, heading into the house. I followed.
The furnishings were a little sparse, but it looked comfortable. I went and relaxed onto the sofa while she told Emmy to go play for a little bit.
When she came back, Melanie sat on the couch across from me. "So, how was prison?"
I shrugged. "Not as bad as I thought it would be."
She smiled ruefully. "I'm so glad."
We stared.
"I heard that you stopped taking Sergei's money," I said. "And, that you moved."
Melanie nodded, "Of course."
"Why of course? He was looking after you for me."
Melanie shook her head. "Just because he owns you doesn't mean he gets to own me."
Heat flashed through me. "Sergei does not own me," I growled. "We are friends. We were partners. That's where it ends."
At that moment, Emmy came back into the room. “I’m hungry, mommy,” she whined. Startled, Melanie looked at the clock.
"We're going to have to talk about this later," she said. "I've got to make dinner."
I smirked at her. "You cook now?" The last time I had eaten her cooking, it had consisted of nothing more advanced than rubbery eggs and burnt toast.
"You live and you learn," she said.
Melanie
For a moment there, thinking about all the little culinary mishaps I’d had that Hunter had patiently walked me through, I had almost laughed. That was a serious problem. I hadn't meant to get so chummy with him. It was so easy though. It'd always been so easy with him.
That was why this was so hard.
I got up and went to the kitchen.
“Can I help?” he asked, as I was about to leave the room. I just shook my head and kept walking. As I reached the kitchen, I heard the TV flick on.
"Just make yourself at home," I muttered under my breath.
Inside, my mind was still racing. The more time I spent with him, the more I remembered how hard it had been being without him, especially in those first few months when it had just been me and Emmy. God, I'd cried every night. Even then though, I couldn't bring myself to go see him.
I had to cut the tie. I knew that.
I had never thought he'd be back here so soon, watching TV in my living room while I made him and our daughter chicken and vegetables.
I never thought he'd be here at all.
I made sure Emmy went to bed early that night. The longer I had Hunter around, the less I wanted him to leave. And, he needed to leave. The only way to get him to go; however, was to talk to him and get it over with. So, we needed to talk—now.
When Emmy had brushed her teeth and headed off to snoozeland, Hunter and I resumed our positions on the couch.
"Where were we?" I said. "I think you were just busy making excuses."
Hunter visibly tensed. That's how I knew I'd gotten to him.
"You have no idea what happened," he said lowly. "I might have tried to explain to you a little if you'd come visited me or had picked up any of my calls."
"That's the great thing about calls from prison," I mused, "so easy to ignore. I didn't even have to hang up on you personally, just a recording asking me if I wanted to talk to you."
Hunter frowned. "Don't get snarky with me, Mel," he said. "I know you're angry, but we both have the right to be pissed."
I reeled back. "You think you have the right to be pissed at me?" I asked. "How in the hell did you get that notion?"
"First of all, you introduced me to my daughter today as your friend."
"I don't know how long you'll be sticking around. I don't want her to get too excited."
"I told you. I'm not going anywhere."
Our staring matches had always been legendary. We were having one of them right now, each of us boring holes into the other.
I spoke first. "What else have I done then, huh?"
"You stopped taking Sergei's money. You moved away from him."
"I told you, I'm not one of his lackeys," I retorted. "I took what I needed to make a few investments, which turned out to be lucky. I don't need him now."
"What if something had gone wrong?" Hunter challenged.
"I didn't want his guilt money, okay?" I spat back. "It was bad enough that he put you away without needing to rub it in my face with a stack of cash every month."
Hunter sighed and rubbed his face in his hands. I must have been really affecting him if he was reacting that visibly.
"You didn't come visit me," he said, his tone softer now. His expression was still hard.
I shook my head. "I couldn't. I couldn't face you. I was so angry."
He relaxed back onto the couch. Even with just that simple movement, he looked like a lithe beast. "I know I hurt you," he said. "I'm not going to pretend I sleep well because of it. I did it for our family."
"Our family?" I shot up, standing over him menacingly. "How dare you! You left your family here!"
He stood up too, easily towering over me. I didn't back down.
"Yes, our family," he hissed. "Because of me, you were taken care of. You would still be being taken care of if you hadn't spat in Sergei's face!"
"He took you from me! Excuse me for being a little contemptuous!"
Hunter began to back me up against the wall, and he rested a hand above my head. I refused to feel crowded. He could do this all day if he wanted. It had never intimidated me.
"What did you expect me to do, Melanie? When the police came for me, what did you expect me to do?" he asked.
“You should have taken the deal!” I replied. “But, you left us!”
“And then, what would have happened?” he said lowly. “Sergei might have forgiven me, but his family never would have. Now, I have their eternal gratitude, and I know that you and Emmy will always be taken care of—no matter what happens to me.”
I was suddenly conscious of how close we were. His body surrounded me, which made me feel safer than it did afraid. It always had. Our faces were mere inches from each other. I could see the flecks of gold in his dark eyes. I saw the scar on his temple that he said was from when he had the chicken pox as a kid. I saw the tiny dimple in his cheek that I used to kiss when he smiled up at me in bed.