Emma arrived at Hunter’s house, dusting the snow off her scarf and toque. It was snowing again, covering the ice on the sidewalk and roads with fresh snow. Not that it mattered, Harbordale was already out and about by sunrise, with the winter bazaar being set up by eight in the morning.
“Hunter, you home?” Emma called out as she jiggled her feet out of her snow boots. Hearing nothing in response, she shrugged out of her jacket and hung everything on the hooks. It was her last shift in the house, and then she’d have her car back. A one-way ticket out of this god forsaken town.
Ignoring the nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach, which told her to stop moving and just stop to think, she got to work. If there was one thing that she would not miss, it would be this. Waking up in the god-awful hours of the morning to come clean Hunters fucking house. Sighing heavily, she got to work and headed to the laundry room where she knew his dirty clothes would be awaiting her.
Even though she’d been doing this for nearly a month, one word always came to mind when she started doing this. Asshole.
With that, she did the laundry, folded the clothes, changed his sheets, took out his garbage, stocked his groceries, vacuumed, loaded the dishwasher, mopped and reorganized his living room furniture so that it let in more lights from the windows.
It was around noon when she heard the front door open and Hunter’s footsteps on the mat. Instead of a ‘hello,’ or a ‘how are you?’, she got a:
“Did you move my armchair?”
Emma rolled her eyes, “it looks better this way,” she moved to the kitchen door, and tried not to eat him up as he took off his jacket and scarf. “It makes the room look bigger.”
“It doesn’t line up with the TV properly,” he sounded affronted, his eyebrows furrowed as he stood near the front door. “How am I supposed to watch TV now?”
“You can still watch TV.”
“I’ll have to crane my head.”
“Barely.”
“At least thirty-five degrees.”
“Oh shut up.”
“I’m serious.”
“I’ve never met such a man-child before.”
“Excuse me?” He crossed his arms, amusement on his face as he glared at her. “Man child?”
“Yes, man children cry when the TV isn’t directly proportionate to where they sit in the living room,” she walked up to him and prodded to him in the chest, “and you, Sheriff, are a man child.”
“That’s not what you’ve been saying to me for the past week,” he cocked his head, acting thoroughly puzzled. He snaked an arm around her place and pulled her close, her hips settling against his comfortably, “instead, you haven’t been very coherent recently, with my tongue in certain places. Maybe you’re still confused.”
“Not confused,” she smirked, although she could feel heat already trickling down from her belly to in-between her legs. “I’ve been very clear-headed.”
“Really?” he murmured, pulling her even closer with his other hand, “so what was that you were saying the other night?” he pulled up her chin so that his lips were dangerously close to hers, “Stop… don’t stop…not there…keep going…” he kissed her lightly, his lips warm against hers. She felt herself melt into his chest, and when she pushed forward, she realised he pulled back.
“What were you saying I was again?” He asked innocently, acting confused.
“Oh shut up,” she pulled him closer, capturing his lips in hers. A light moan escaped her lips as he deepened the kiss, the smell of his musk dizzying her as she found herself enveloped in it.
She felt herself tumbling back towards the arm chair that she’d very recently moved, her feet losing ground as he hoisted her up onto it. “What’re you doing?”
“Whatever I please with you.”
She giggled as he spread her legs open and rested each ankle on the armchair, leaving little kisses in between her thighs. “Your curtains are open.”
“Let people watch!”
“Hunter!”
A mischievous glint peered up at her, “No negotiations allowed in this interrogation, haven’t I made that clear?”
Emma leaned her head back against the backrest as his mouth kissed in between her legs over the denim. She was mildly embarrassed from how wet she already was.
“Hunter…”
“Take off your jeans.”
She looked up defiantly, “is this my end of the year bonus for finishing my contract?”
“Just an extra job for you to finish up.”
Emma rolled her eyes and stood up, unbuttoning her jeans. She was very aware of how damp her underwear already was, and the hunger in his eyes was apparent. “Who are you going to boss around when I’m gone?”
A puzzled glance flashed across his face and as soon as the words rolled off her tongue, she knew she’d ventured haphazardly.
“Gone?” He asked, his lips suddenly frowning in a thin line.
“Never mind that,” she didn’t want to talk about it, “aren’t you going to help me unzip my jeans?”
“Where are you going?” he asked and Emma sighed, seeing his mind do a thousand calculations a minute.
“Can we talk about this after?”
“I’d rather talk about this now.”
She groaned, “for fuck’s sake, Hunter.”
His entire demeanor had changed, warmth dissipating immediately. “You brought it up, not me.”
She folded her arms across her chest, “why are you back anyway? Don’t you have work till five?”
“I came home for lunch.”
“I don’t know how to cook.”
“I know,” he rolled his eyes, exasperated. “Get to the point. You’re avoiding the topic.”
“No I’m not,” she paused, trying to look anywhere but his blue eyes, “what were you planning on making for lunch? I’m hungry too.”
“Emma.”
“What?”
“Are you leaving Harbordale?”
She bit her bottom lip, not knowing why she was looking at the floor. Why was her heart pounding? Why did she feel so shitty? “You were the one who told me to leave when my house got broken into.”
Hunter didn’t say anything. When the silence stretched on, she finally looked back up at him.
“I have my car back today. Sarah asked me to go home with her.”
His jaw tightened, his eyes lidding, “and where is home?”
“Not here.”
“Well then.”
“Well then?”
He moved away from her, walking to the kitchen. “If that’s what you want.”
“Is that all you’re going to say?”
“What am I supposed to say?”
Irritation began to unfurl inside of her, “I don’t know. Maybe anything other than well then.”
“Good for you.”
That just made her madder, “Good for me?”
He growled under his breath, turning back to her, “you’re making the right decision. You should get out of here. It’s not safe for you.”
“Forget it, arguing with you isn’t worth it,” she didn’t know why she was so mad. All she knew right now was that Hunter was the last person she wanted to see standing in front of her. “Your laundry will be done in an hour; do you want me to take it out of the dryer or am I free to go?”
“Your shift doesn’t end till five.”
“Fine.”
“Great.”
She stormed off, going upstairs where she knew he wouldn’t follow her. She couldn’t deal with him, and his rudeness, and his ego, and his masochism. Where was the “sorry to see you go,” or “I’ll miss you,” or literally anything other than “well then?”
She slammed the bedroom door shut behind her and locked herself in the bathroom so he couldn’t see the tears beginning to well in her eyes.
That was literally all he had to say. That she was making the right decision?
Did the last month mean absolutely shit all to him?
Picking up the toilet brush to scrub the bowl, she was about to pour the soap in until she simply sat down on the bathroom floor to hold her head in hands. Ugh, how easily she had forgotten how much she couldn’t stand him. It was always a power struggle with him, and lord forbid he actually show his soft side to her. That would be an abomination wouldn’t it?
She stayed in the bathroom until she heard he was done cooking, ignoring the grumble in her stomach which indicated how hungry she was too.
She heard him moving around downstairs, but only came out of the bedroom when she heard the front door close shut. Peeking out of the house to make sure he was gone before she actually emerged, she sighed when she saw that his jacket and boots were gone.
A plate with a sandwich was waiting for her on the kitchen counter. Ugh, “you piece of shit,” she muttered under her breath, ignoring the feeling of the rubber band slamming against her heart. She didn’t want to, but she sat down on the counter, and picked up the sandwich to eat it.
He didn’t call or come back again until five, and she moped around the house, watching TV to make the hours go by. Once the dryer beeped, she begrudgingly went upstairs to fold his laundry and store it into his drawers.
It was only when she came back to the living room a second time did she see her car keys on the coffee table. Perched against the black centerpiece, she had missed it the first time, but the glint of the sunset had reflected off the metal keys.
She felt her breath hitch as she leaned forward to get grab them.
Her ticket to freedom.
Which would feel a lot better if Hunter hadn’t left so unceremoniously.
It wasn’t like she was leaving tomorrow, or even on the weekend. She still had to give a two weeks’ notice to the bar, pack up her things, finish the town mural, and sign away her rights to the lighthouse so the crazy fucker trying to drive her away could have it.
Maybe she shouldn’t have brought it up when he was trying to get into her pants, but in no way did she deserve the treatment he had slapped onto her face.
She waited until 4:55PM and then decided to leave. He wouldn’t know she left five minutes earlier.
Pocketing the keys, she got her boots on, pulled on her jacket and tied the scarf around her neck. She had told Sarah she’d meet her at the end of her shift, which is where she’d be till eleven p.m. They were going to celebrate the start of a new chapter, and to a new beginning, with less conflict and trauma that she’d experienced here.
She opened the door, relieved to see there was still pink in the sky, and that she wouldn’t be walking to town in the complete dark. She paused to take out her phone and use the internet on Hunter’s Wi-Fi, so she could search up when the car garage closed. The sooner she had her car, the better.
It was when she looked down to her phone that it had happened, so fast that she hadn’t even realised that it did. One moment, she was typing in “Harbordale’s Car Garage” and the next, she felt herself being pulled back. About to yell out, she gasped instead as a hand clamped over her mouth.
Her phone and keys dropped to the ground as she struggled against the grip. One arm, as hard as iron, was fastened tightly against her chest with the other hand around her mouth. She screamed into the hand, realising foggily that she was being attacked. Struggling, she tried to kick back, only to realise that her legs couldn’t move for some reason.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“Get the car,” she heard someone say, while a distinct other voice called out to “Hurry.”
Those were the last words she heard as her eyesight blurred. One second, she was fighting against the hands, staring into the pine trees, and the next, it was dark.
Just my fucking luck, were the last words that raced across her mind as she felt her body slump forward, her mind falling into unconsciousness.