Chapter 7

For an extended period, Hunter remained silent. His hands were clasped before him, his chin resting on his thumbs. His gaze was fixed in contemplation, occasionally tapping his mouth with the knuckle of his index finger as he seemed to be engulfed in deep thought. Juliette found it impossible to discern if he was deliberately withholding his thoughts or if he had disconnected from what hardly qualified as a dialogue. In Hunter, she saw the distant look of her classmates lost in daydreams during math class and yet also glimpsed the resolute demeanor her father adopted when faced with delivering unfortunate news.

Juliette refrained from goading him into a response. Her intense gaze tried to penetrate his unreadable expression, briefly wishing her sister Celine—skilled at reading people—was by her side.

Though only a couple of minutes passed, they stretched into what felt like an eternity for Juliette until Hunter finally removed his hands from his face and met her eyes.

"Have you ever concealed a truth from someone because you thought it might unfairly burden them?" he hesitantly asked.

Clearly, he was reticent about sharing his inner turmoil. Juliette braced herself for what was to come.

"You know I have," Juliette responded, her lack of ease with emotional disclosure evident.

Hunter slightly twisted his hands together—a subtle motion, but not lost on Juliette. It unsettled her. He began tentatively, "When my mother was on the phone earlier, I wasn't entirely truthful or 'forthcoming' with you."

Juliette's posture straightened; such preambles never boded well.

"She was speaking to her lawyer because she's filed for divorce."

"From Derick?" The question slipped out before she could stop it; Mrs. Rosewood had only one husband after all. But astonishment had a way of muddling thoughts, and Juliette's were no exception. Hunter's nod confirmed it, though oddly devoid of satisfaction.

"That's positive news, right?" Juliette clung to hope that no one more detestable had taken Derick's place.

"It is…but," Hunter voice faltered and he raked his fingers through his hair—a clear sign of the internal struggle wracking him. "It's the why that's troubling."

"Did something happen?" She already knew the answer; however, shock and alarm mingled within her, dulling her cognition even further.

Hunter's hands began to tremble; he placed them flush against the table seeking stability. "He pushed me down the stairs."

Juliette leaped to her feet. "What?" Her outcry echoed in the room. She paced furiously in a tight circle before pausing and taking a deep breath to steady herself. "What?" This time it was barely audible—a whisper shadowed by dread.

Remaining seated, Hunter extended his arm and gently grasped Juliette's elbow, guiding her back to her seat with a tender "Just wait," he murmured. "Please."

Juliette complied, murmuring an apology.

He recounted with confusion how his pursuer cornered him. "Then he—no, let me backtrack."

Juliette offered a supportive hand on his arm; Hunter's fingers brushed hers momentarily before he withdrew, resting his hand in his lap instead.

"I've been out of sorts," he confessed. "We hadn't spoken for what, a week? It was after your birthday but before Ella's. My mother forbade me from attending Ella's party, flinging the fact that you had asked me to leave right into my face—I regret telling her. My judgment was clouded."

Juliette was not accustomed to the pang of guilt. Regrets were foreign to her, yet the incident was nearly a month old by now. While Hunter grappled with being subjected to domestic violence, Juliette struggled with acknowledging his feelings for her in a compassionate way. Reflecting on it, what kind of friend did that make her? Regardless of his silence on the matter, she should've perceived something amiss—if only she hadn't been so absorbed in herself.

"I was utterly fed up with everyone and vented about Derick to my mom; he overheard it. My apologies—I should have mentioned that sooner as it's what triggered everything."

Hunter's unease in discussing the trauma made his account seem disjointed. However, for Juliette, understanding why Derick became violent wasn't as crucial as the act itself. She was ready to support Hunter through each step of revealing his traumatic experience.

"As I mentioned earlier," he continued, "he pinned me down and began choking me with threats—I can't even recall his words; bizarre, isn't it?"

To Juliette, Hunter's memory lapse seemed far from strange; yet she refrained from voicing disagreement due to her own lack of experience in such matters.

"I managed to shove him away and started running—I was desperate to leave—but he caught me. He pinned me down again and struck me several times... I believe my mother witnessed that part and expelled him on the spot."

Hunter pushed back from the table as if readying to stand up but remained seated, folding forward with arms over his knees, fidgeting incessantly.

Juliette was at a loss for words—while threats of dismembering Derick fleetingly crossed her mind, she thought better than to voice them; violence wouldn't help Hunter at that moment—perhaps later but not now.

Instead, she moved her chair closer and wrapped an arm around Hunter's shoulders; he turned towards her with a slight smile devoid of any humor—a press of warmth amidst the shadows.

"There's no need for that," he said softly, easing her arm away from his torso and placing it gently on her lap. "It's over; he's out of our lives now."

Juliette struggled to keep the tears at bay, the sting behind her eyes a glaring sign of her frustration. She was determined not to let Hunter see her in a moment of vulnerability—not when he relied on her strength. She managed to compose herself, ensuring that her voice wouldn't reveal the turmoil within.

"It breaks my heart that you had to face this by yourself." Even though Mrs. Rosewood was present, Juliette knew that Hunter lacked the profound support he needed from his mother, despite her attempts.

Hunter just shrugged it off. "No big deal."

"Yes, it is!" Juliette couldn't help but let her concern manifest with more intensity than she'd intended. "Hunter, please look at me."

Obediently, he met her gaze.

"Remember, you can always confide in me. No matter how weird things get between us, I'm here for you—always. You're my best friend before anything else."

Juliette had been as candid as she could; the thought of him suffering in silence pained her greatly—and she knew she was partly to blame.

After a prolonged quiet moment, with their gazes fixed on their shoes, Juliette broke the silence, "I regret what I said earlier." Understanding Mrs. Rosewood's reaction made Juliette see that nothing worse could have been said; her offhand remark about Derick was the pinnacle of all inappropriate comments she'd ever directed at Hunter's mother. "I can't seem to keep my thoughts to myself."

"You didn't know any better."

"I just hope she realizes that," Juliette mused aloud, feeling a wave of embarrassment crash over her.

"She probably pictures you as someone cold and aloof," Hunter remarked with a faint chuckle.

"I guess I can be," Juliette admitted with a fleeting sense of bravado—quickly dissolving as she added, "But not when it comes to... you know... abuse."

"I should've enrolled at Pencey," Hunter half-joked. "The military version of me would've handled him easily."

Juliette let out a short laugh before responding, "Even without Pencey training, you're more than capable—you're just too kind-hearted for your own good."

"Perhaps," Hunter replied with a smile that brought a tidal wave of relief over Juliette.

Changing tack abruptly, Juliet told him, "So is this why one of us got an invite from your mom for this weekend?" Her intuition told her that Mrs. Rosewood's motives might be innocent after all. Unlike any of Hunter's sisters who would suspect darker intentions—dungeons and starvation being excessively archaic even for Mrs. Rosewood—Juliette harbored suspicions about what agenda might have prompted such outreach from Hunter's mother after six years sans contact with the Grier siblings.

"Mm-hmm," Hunter responded. "She claims she wants to 'get to know me better.' Suddenly, because Derick is out of the picture, she thinks we're going to be best friends. Which, obviously, is ludicrous. Things just aren't that simple."

"You're not willing to give it a shot?" Juliette found herself unexpectedly taking up the cause for Mrs. Rosewood.

The bewilderment was mutual; Hunter gave her no response. He slouched in his chair, countering, "Before, her affection was absent; she can't expect to initiate it now when it suits her and believe I'd embrace it wholeheartedly."

"That's not entirely accurate," Juliette contended.

"Then she's got a strange way of showing love," he quipped.

"Don't forget—she's leaving him," Juliette pointed out. For all her personal grievances against Mrs. Rosewood, Juliette recognized the importance of Hunter avoiding a deep-seated animosity towards his mother. "Many don't make it to that step."

Hunter simply shook his head. "It's guilt, nothing more."

"Hunter, she does love you," Juliette asserted firmly.

"I suppose," he conceded with reluctance. "But even so, it doesn't alter our reality. Our discord isn't solely because of Derick. We're entangled in a myriad of issues that might never get unraveled—even with him gone."

"But it's a beginning, right?"

"Yes." A faint smile graced Hunter's face once more. "It is a beginning."