welcomed it. Welcomed the silence, the peace, the black abyss. I figured that when it came, I'd be Alice jumping down the rabbit hole, except there would be no Wonderland, only numbness.
And if there was anything, it'd be the fiery pits of Hell.
So, no. I wasn't afraid of him killing him. I was afraid that he would and what that would mean for the boy who once pulled twigs and leaves out of my hair when I fell from a tree.
My heart refused to let go of the Hunter I knew. I hated it for it, but it cried out for the past. Cried for the boy I'd loved with all my understanding of it.
Maybe that was why I was at odds with my heart as I sat on the rock and looked out at the setting sun. I didn't want to remember how I loved Carlo 'Hunter' Rosso. I wanted to forget, because beneath everything, all the years and the darkness and the fear, I was afraid of loving him.
I was afraid a piece of me still did, because there was no goodbye. There were only silent footsteps in the night. No goodbye, no explanation, no closure. No promise that one day it would be worth it.
Maybe it wasn't worth it. Maybe it never would be worth it.
That's why he was standing ten feet away from me. The bike he'd driven up to the coastal cliff on wasn't the quietest thing in the world. In fact, it couldn't have been further from it. It was a tempest of anticipation and hesitance, a swirling tsunami of indecision and darkness.
It was Hunter, I realized.
“I know you're there,” I said without turning around. “For an assassin, your approach resembles an angry toddler's.”
“The bike wasn't maybe the best idea,” he said back.
I still didn't turn. “Not really.” I looked down and stretched one leg out in front of me. The sea was getting closer, but I'd left everything—including my shoes—in my car. If he was going to kill me now, I'd have no way to call for help.
I wanted it that way. I didn't want to know death was coming. I didn't imagine it usually knocked on doors—more picked the lock and caught you off guard.
Surprise tingled through my stomach when he climbed up onto the rock next to me.
“You're going to get wet feet,” I remarked, seeing his shoes still on.
He shrugged. “It's just water.”
Fair enough.
“It's quiet here,” he said after a moment of silence. “How do you cope?”
It was my turn to shrug. “It's not as quiet as you think. Los Angeles is as crazy as New York, in its own way. This little peace of heaven is just that: heaven.”
“I suppose.” Hunter reached his hands behind him to steady him and leaned back.
I tried to ignore the way his biceps flexed and tensed, but it was harder than I thought. I didn't want to think of him like this... Handsome. Hot. Fit. I didn't want to have the memory of his mouth against mine seared into my memory, either, but I did.
I slowly turned to face him. He was staring at me, and his gray eyes locked onto mine. It was a strange sensation, to be so intent on someone else's gaze that looking away seemed impossible. It was consuming and uncontrollable.
Hunter didn't move. He simply sat there, looking into my eyes, as the golden hue of the sunset cast itself across him, illuminating every angle of his face. His cheekbones seemed sharper, and the hair that coated his jaw cast hundreds of tiny shadows across his chin. The light made his eyes seem as though they were made of liquid silver.
I didn't know how he could be so still. My heart jumped into my throat, and I could feel its erratic beating as my blood pounded through my veins. The rush was so loud it echoed in my ears, all but washing out the steady crashing of the sea. I took a deep breath and tried to look away.
I couldn't. I was stuck here. I couldn't move, I couldn't look away, and I could barely breathe. My whole body was frozen in place.
And then, I leaned over and touched my lips to his.
He returned it, reaching up to cup the side of my neck. This time, he tasted like cinnamon buns and coffee. He didn't try and deepen the kiss, although I expected him to, so our lips just touched. Softly. Like a whisper.
I sat back up with a