Chapter 147: Hunter POV
The hum of the truck blends with the soft drone of the music that’s filtering through the radio’s speakers—a somewhat popular song that drifts through the air like smoke and doesn’t need lyrics to fill the quiet. The road ahead is dark as it carves through trees that blur at the edges of the truck’s headlights, while my hand rests on the center console, my fingers still laced with hers.
Layla's head is tilted toward me, her cheek pressed gently against my bicep, and her breaths are slow and even. She fell asleep ten minutes ago, somewhere between the lake and the highway’s turnoff. And she hasn't stirred once.
Behind us, AJ sits in the back seat, his long legs braced wide, and his elbow propped against the door. He doesn’t say much, just runs his fingers gently through the ends of Layla’s hair, and the movement is idle, almost instinctive. Protective.
“She looked happy today,” AJ says eventually, his voice low and steady. And even though no smile accompanies his statement, I can hear the warmth beneath his words.
“She was.” I quickly glance at him in the rearview mirror and catch the way his gaze stays anchored to the back of her head. “Really happy.”
The tires suddenly rumble over a patch of uneven tar, and Layla shifts slightly in her seat, but her hand stays tucked into mine, and her head stays resting against my upper arm.
“She laughed so much,” I murmur. “From her gut. We haven’t heard that in a while. It was beautiful.”
AJ’s thumb brushes down the length of one of her wayward curls. “She’s not just surviving anymore.”
“No,” I agree as a slight smile lifts my lips. “She’s starting to come alive again.”
We drive for a while in silence, nothing interrupting us except for the soft vibration of the tires and the occasional rustle of the wind past the windows.
“She trusts us,” he says after another minute or two. “All of us. It’s not easy for her, but she’s doing it.”
My throat tightens slightly at his words. “We just have to keep showing up for her. Keep being her foundation.”
“And she’ll keep blooming,” AJ finishes for me, his voice rougher now. Not overly emotional. Just honest.
I nod, my eyes staying on the stretch of road that curves ahead. After today, there’s a fullness inside my chest that I’m struggling to name. It’s not pride. And it’s not just love. It’s something between the two.
After another ten minutes or so, we slowly pull into our driveway, and the porch light is on, casting a soft, welcoming glow over the front yard. I move to unclip Layla’s seatbelt, but before I can, AJ leans forward between the seats and says quietly, “I’ve got her.”
I hesitate, my fingers pausing mid-air, but then I nod, and leave him to get out, open her door, and unclasp the buckle at her hip. AJ gently scoops her up like she weighs nothing, and again, she stirs only slightly with the motion, but her head almost immediately tips into the curve of his neck, and AJ lets out a contented sigh.
I unlock the front door for him, and as I pass him on the walkway back to my truck so can I unpack it real quick, I tell him, “Take her to my bed, will you. I want her with me tonight.”
He’s halfway up the porch steps when he turns back and asks, “You have room for one more?”
It should feel strange. Another guy, sharing my bed. We’ve done it before, but that was while we were in her bed. But the idea doesn’t bother me. Not with her that will be nestled between the two of us.
“Yeah, man,” I say, a small smile tugging at the corner of my mouth.
AJ nods once, solemn and satisfied, and disappears into the house with his precious cargo cradled to his chest.
A car door shuts behind me, and I turn to find Cade and Xavier stepping out of Xavier’s Charger, both of them looking as tired as I feel.
Without a word, we start gathering the rest of the stuff—the half-empty coolers, the still-damp towels, the sun-faded umbrellas. Cade tosses a stray flip-flop that I think might be Layla’s on top of the pile of blankets, and Xavier stacks the lawn chairs inside the garage with mechanical precision.
There’s no chatter between us, but there's no real need for it. We’re just moving around each other with the kind of silence that says we did good today.
By the time we step into the entryway, lock the front door behind us, and switch off the porch light, the fireflies outside have taken over the night.
“She had a good day,” I say simply, setting down one of the coolers.
“She deserved it,” Xavier answers succinctly.
Cade runs a hand through his disheveled hair and grins—that slow, tired kind of grin of his. “Let’s make sure our girl has a thousand more just like it.”
We all nod, and a quiet pact forms in that moment—a promise made without any fanfare.
“Night,” Xavier says first, disappearing upstairs.
“Sleep easy, man,” Cade adds as he claps my shoulder before he, too, heads for the stairs.
I linger a second longer, packing away all the leftover snacks and drinks, then I follow them upstairs, slow and steady, my every step a little softer than the last on the off chance that I might wake my beautiful girl.
When I reach my bedroom, the door is slightly ajar, and inside, the room is dimly lit by a single bedside lamp that AJ switched on. Layla lies in the center of my bed, curled on her side, with one hand stretched out towards the empty space I haven’t filled yet. AJ is already lying on the other side of her, his one arm behind his head, and his eyes closed—calm as ever.
After a quick trip to the bathroom to slip into my pajama bottoms, I move to the bed and slide in in front of her, turning towards her so she’ll be the last thing I see before I fall asleep. My arm slides around her waist, and I slightly pull her into me. When her hand instinctively goes to rest on my chest right over my heart, it’s my turn to heave out a contented sigh.
As AJ turns towards her and wraps himself around her back, he murmurs into the nape of her neck, “She’s out cold.”
“Yeah,” I whisper. “Let her stay that way.”
He hums in agreement, and then, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, we both go still while a feeling of protectiveness over Layla and a sense of finally being grounded settles around us.
Maybe this is what peace tastes like.
The kind that sneaks up on you…and stays.