“Thanks.” Hunter took the bags and set them beside the blanket, though it was taking everything he had not to tear through them looking for food.
Bill reached out a hand and touched Hunter on the chin. Hunter wondered if he had a new bruise to add to the collection.
“Sorry I hit you,” Bill said.
Hunter was sorry about that, too. It had hurt like a bitch and reminded him a little too thoroughly of the fight with his grandfather that had started this mess.
He didn’t say anything.
“I did a lot to make sure Becca wouldn’t have to deal with this kind of disaster,” Bill said. “I know what she thinks of me, but I had my reason for keeping my distance.” He paused. “It’s just not very nice to have that thrown in my face.”
Hunter wondered how much could be resolved if Bill would just say those same words to Becca.
“I’m sorry,” Hunter said. He didn’t entirely mean it, but he felt like he should offer something in exchange for the food and supplies.
“Did you hate your father?”
The words hit Hunter so hard that he felt like he needed to take a step back. “No,” he said, his voice rough. “No, never. He—I just never knew where I stood with him.”
Bill smiled a little at that: a small smile, a sad one. “Really?”
Hunter couldn’t interpret that expression. “Yeah, really.”
“I’d say you stood in pretty high regard. Your dad went to some lengths to keep you a secret.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I knew your dad. And he never breathed a word about you.”
Hunter scowled—but something about this was meshing with what Silver had said when he came after him and Kate at the Merrick house. Or what Calla Dean had said at the carnival.
Had his father kept him a secret?
But . . . why?
His head was overfull with confusion, and he couldn’t take one more thing to second guess. “Maybe it means he just didn’t give a crap.”
“That’s not how being a father works, kid.” Bill gestured to the bags. “There should be enough food for tonight and tomorrow.”
So Bill expected them to sleep out here, on the beach. It was October, and the night air was already growing cold. Hunter glanced at the back door and deliberated for a long moment before swallowing his pride. “Any way we can crash on your floor?”
“Not an option.” Bill’s voice was hard again.
Hunter was too tired to argue. “Fine. We’ll sleep in the sand.” At least they had blankets.
“Sometimes decisions are about picking the lesser evil.”
Hunter rolled his eyes. “That’s really comforting, thanks.”
“Becca never understood what I was doing for her, and she hates me for it. Don’t make the same mistake, okay?”
Hunter just looked back at him, wondering how making two people sleep on the beach was some kind of sacrifice for Bill Chandler.
“Think about it,” said Bill.
“I’m sure I’ll have plenty of time,” said Hunter.
Then he turned his back, dropped to the blanket, and fished through the first bag to find the food.
Only to find he was disappointed when Bill moved away.
Especially since it took everything he had not to turn around and beg for more information.
CHAPTER 29
Hunter woke up to someone moving against him.
He didn’t remember falling asleep, but now he was awake and alert. His eyes opened to meet Kate’s in the near darkness.
Hers were wide. “Where are we?” she whispered.
He heard the worry in her tone. “Safe,” he said. “We’re on the beach behind Becca’s father’s house.”
She shifted under the blankets to look at the sky. Night had fallen completely, and the moon and stars overhead were brilliant. The fire still burned beside them, throwing light across her face, turning her hair gold.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
She made a face. “Both better and worse than I expected. Do you have any water?”
“Yeah.” He secured a bottle from one of the bags and helped her to sit up, though she didn’t really need it. She didn’t even wince. She drained an entire bottle of water, barely pausing for breath.
“Are you hungry?” he asked. “There’s food, too.”
When she nodded, he unwrapped a prepackaged peanut-butter-and-strawberry-jam sandwich. She tore into it.
He knew the feeling. He’d done the same thing to three of them earlier. So had Casper.
Halfway through the sandwich, she paused. “Did you take my pants off?”
“Bill helped.”
“Oh, that’s nice. Did you get a good look?”
Her voice was light, not bitchy. “Watching him put stitches in your thigh kinda stole the allure.”
“Stitches?” Her hand moved under the blanket. “Wow.