training either.”
“Coach told me to take a break.”
“Yet you’re here busting your ass.”
“Mmm.”
“You know you can talk to me, right?”
“Yeah.”
More silence while my heart is finally slowing down.
“Can I ask you something?”
I open one eye and peek at him. “Huh?”
“Is she the one who pissed in your Cheerios? Chloe, I mean.”
My eyebrows draw together at his words until my brain puts two and two together. The conversation we had at Ryan’s house last year when Jace had screwed up with Millie. Something Hunter said to me about wanting to know who pissed in my Cheerios. Not that I remember what I said.
Shit. I don’t know how much to tell him. It’s not that I don’t trust him. We’ve been friends for many years. All of us. But do I really want to dig up more crap from the past? Would he even understand? I’ve never really talked much about what went down with Chloe and me.
After we broke up—or rather she left to go on the vacation she never came back from—I focused on swimming. I turned all of my thoughts and anger into energy and used it to my advantage in the pool. It turned me into a beast in the water, yet no one knew there was a reason for it.
The guys and I first met at camp when Chloe and I were still together, so of course, they knew she wasn’t in the picture anymore at some point. But I didn’t talk a lot about her, didn't like to share our private stuff with anyone. The guys didn’t know much about her or what was going on with me. We were still teenagers at that point and easily distracted.
With a heavy sigh, I close my eyes again. “I guess she is.”
“No fucking way. I knew it.”
Hunter’s way-too-cheerful response makes me snort, which is progress, I suppose.
He whistles under his breath. “Wow.”
“Okay, Hunt. I got it.”
“Sorry, dude. But wow. And now she’s back . . . and the hospital work. Man, she’s fucking hot.”
“Ugh.” I grit my teeth, a headache slowly forming behind my temples.
“Shit. Sorry.” He grimaces. “What are you going to do? Are you going to skip the volunteering?”
A question I’ve been asking myself all week long.
“Now I feel extra bad. My agent landed this new campaign for me last minute, and it will collide with the times at the hospital, so I won’t be able to help out as much as I had hoped, if at all. If you’re dropping out too, she’s gotta do the whole thing by herself.” He stops talking, and I look at him. His gaze is focused somewhere far away.
It’s rare to see Hunter this focused and serious outside of swimming.
He huffs. “Now I feel like a total dick. Maybe I can move around some stuff. Talk to Coach and my agent to see if we can shift around some of my schedule.”
Even if I’ve been half the problem, the thought of Chloe being there all by herself without any help doesn’t sit right with me either.
Yes, she still screws with my mind.
Yes, I hate the things I’ve discovered about her since she returned. Loathe them.
That she wasn’t feeling well. That she . . . that she tried to harm herself at some point.
But I’m an adult, and I signed up for this project.
I can push aside my differences and be civil, friendly even, right?
Just for a few weeks, and then I’ll make sure to never see her again.
With a groan, I turn to Hunter. “I’ll help her. I’ll go back to the hospital.”
His head whips my way. “You will?”
“Yeah.” Not sure who’s more surprised about it. Hunter or me.
But it’s the right thing to do.
This isn’t just about Chloe and me. This is about the hospital and doing something nice for the kids. I’ve never been one to back out of projects I signed up for, and I won’t start now.
I shouldn’t have flaked on her this week, but it’s not too late to make it right.
It’s time to face the music, or rather paint in this case.
Hunter stretches his arms above his head. “She’ll be there this afternoon.”
“Awesome.” I don’t think I could sound more unenthusiastic if I tried.
He jumps up and holds out his hand to help me up. “I gotta get going, and you need a shower.”
“Thanks.”
“Always.” And there is Hunter’s signature cocky grin, and I shake my head.
After a long hot shower at home rather than the gym, some lunch, a cat nap, and a