Page 118 of Secret Vendettay
I trailed my finger along his abs.
“Did it help? Did the renovation make you feel better?”
“No.”
The poor guy.
“In all these years, there’s only been one thing that stopped the pain, Luna.”
He tilted my chin up, so he was looking directly into my eyes, his blue gems seeming to pierce my soul.
“You,” he said.
I blinked back tears, my heart fluttering, splintering, and reforming, all in the space of a second. His words echoed in the hollow compartments of my mind, reverberating sentiments I’d only dreamed of hearing.
For the first time, I truly felt seen, adored, and cherished. And I felt more than just special to another soul—I felt indispensable and irreplaceable.
“I know this all seems sudden,” he continued. “It’s crazy how quickly feelings can develop in such a short amount of time, but it doesn’t diminish how I feel about you.”
I nodded. “I feel the same way.” Shocked at how quickly things could change.
“For as long as I can remember, the only thing that has inhabited my heart has been pain. But you’ve managed to push that pain aside and fill my heart with…joy instead. Because of you, I don’t feel that constant ache anymore, Luna.”
I wanted to store those words in my bones to be released at steady beats throughout the rest of my life.
“Falling in love with you has made me realize something,” he said. “I’ve spent my entire life convinced that the only thing that will make me feel whole is finding my father’s killer. But even if I find the guy who murdered my dad, nothing will bring my father back. That’s what I’ve been chasing.”
“You shouldn’t give up the hunt,” I said.
“I won’t. I’ll still work to find him, but not for the same reasons as before. Now, it’s about closure. And getting justice for my father. But as for making me feel complete,youmake me feel whole, Luna. Only you.”
My heart quivered against his soft words that wrapped my chest in a comforting embrace.
I was honored that he was again sharing such deep professions with me that I suspected, based on the pain in his voice, he never shared with anyone, and it gave me the courage to keep digging, because I wanted to learn every fragment of his soul and piece it together in my heart’s puzzle.
“What was it like for you,” I whispered, “losing him?”
Hunter was silent for long enough that a log completely split open and cracked with a loud pop.
“You would think that me witnessing my father’s murder,” Hunter started, “would allow me to skip the denial stage of grief. The one where you keep questioning if they’re really gone. But grief is a complicated beast, I guess.
“Because for a while, every night when I was lying in bed, I would stare at my bedroom door, expecting him to walk through it and tuck me in as usual. We’d talk about my day, like we always did, and he’d ask me about my day’s high and low points. Both, he’d always say, were opportunities to learn and grow.”
From the brief pause in Hunter’s voice, I could discern the faint, strained sound of him swallowing hard.
“Three months before my dad died, he’d given me a journal as a birthday present. So, after he died, when he was no longer here to tuck me in at night, I would write to him about my day in it, describing the high and low points. It was hard to find a high point, because I was just drowning in sadness, and I had lost all hope…
“But I wanted to keep our tradition alive, so I’d force myself to find one thing, no matter how small it might be. Like maybe I spotted one of Dad’s favorite trees—a weeping willow. The low point each day was always the same—that he wasn’t there with me to see it.”
My eyes stung. I remembered all those times as a kid, wishing my dad were with me to see special things too. Or even mundane things, for that matter.
“I would end each entry the same, telling him that I loved him, that I missed him, and that I would give anything to have just one more hug from him.”
Hugs. We place so much value on material possessions, but many of us just wish to hold someone we lost.
“After he died”—Hunter’s voice cracked slightly—“I couldn’t stop thinking about the days leading up to his death and how much I took his presence for granted, assuming that I could see him whenever I wanted. Like in the mornings, when my dad would be sitting at the table, having his coffee. I’d gotten this PlayStation for my birthday, and I was always playing some stupid game, tuning him out instead of acknowledging him.”
Hunter shook his head.