On The Rocks

“But I don’t want you to regret it… maybe come to hate me for it later.”


Smiling at me with censure, he says, “Not possible. Listen to me… I have had an amazing surfing career. I reached all my goals I ever aspired to. But when I made the decision to leave and come back here for Brody, I didn’t have a moment of regret. That told me that I was ready to leave, that I had nothing more to accomplish.”

“Really?” I ask, hoping beyond hope he truly means that.

“Really. My goals right now are very simple. Want to hear what they are?”

I nod at him.

“Okay, and these are in no particular order. I’d like to take you back into your bedroom, strip you naked, and make you come with my mouth. Then I want to fuck you… hard… so you never forget the passion we have between us. I want you to move in with me, so I can wake up every morning with you wrapped up tight against me, and I want to take you around the world… and share with you all the beautiful places I’ve been. One day… I want to have children with you, and God willing… they’ll give us grandchildren. I want it all, and in no particular order, but if you agree, we should probably start with the fucking thing first.”

“No, with the making me come with your mouth first,” I tell him as I lean in to give him a kiss.

He returns it, hot and wet, his arms wrapping around me and pulling me in tight.

I pull back briefly, causing him to growl at me. His eyes are hot and needy, and I can feel his thickness pulsing between my legs as I straddle him.

Softly, I bring my hand up to his face and lay it against one cheek. “I love you, Hunter. I’m so sorry I did that to you, and I promise I’ll never push you away again.”

“You already told me that, baby.”

“I thought it bore repeating,” I whisper. “And I want to help you accomplish all those goals you set out.”

He smiles at me then, wide and brilliant, as he stands from the couch with me wrapped around him. “Let’s start in the bedroom, and then we can work on getting you moved in with me.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I tell him, my heart filled with more happiness than I’ve ever known in my entire life.

Hunter walks back to my bedroom, carrying me in his strong in his arms, toward a future that I had always dreamed of with him.

Now… that future is a reality.





Walking into Hunter’s kitchen, I deposit the large box I was carrying on the counter. It’s taped shut and has the word “Dishes” written in black Sharpie. There’s a lit candle on the counter and subtle wafts of cinnamon apple hit my nose. I expect that’s Gabby already putting her touches on Hunter’s house.

I close my eyes and inhale the scent, relishing in the sweetly tart smell. It’s something I do every time my nose encounters a pleasing aroma.

I savor.

And I ruminate.

And I am thankful for such a smell.

I sniff again, deeply, because it helps to drive the smell of incarceration out of my memory. For five years, I smelled the inside of a prison. It’s a distinctive odor that I never got used to… a combination of toilets overflowing with shit, sweaty armpits, with just a hint of bleach underneath. The bleach was used to scrub away the shit, or even sometimes bloodstains from the floor, but it never really eradicated the underlying stench. The gritty lump of soap we were given certainly did nothing to erase away the sweat and grime of prison life.

“Hey man… give me a hand here?”

I open my eyes and see Hunter struggling with three boxes, which he’s stacked one on top of the other, the top one getting ready to slide off. Within three strides, my long legs eat up the distance. I grab the top package before it can topple over.

“Where do these go?”

“My bathroom,” Hunter says. “I’m almost afraid of the fact that Gabby has three boxes of shit to put in the bathroom.”