HUNTER

This time, I had truly fucked up. Trying to do the right thing caused much more pain imaginable than being honest. For once, honesty and following a moral compass did not go hand-in-hand. Yet, I was sure choosing either path would have ultimately ended with the same results. It was more a matter of convenience for when my path of destruction was to hit. Now, or three years prior.

The worst part of all was that I had no excuses for what I did. I thought I was doing the right thing by not telling her. Protecting her relationship with her family, letting them tell her first. I wondered how different things may have been if I had told her the day I had taken her to my family's vacation home. The number of times I tried - even with the fear that my sister's sudden appearance would ultimately expose the truth. But my own selfish actions stopped me once again. I was terrified to lose her over the thought of her hating me.

Flash forward three years later, and that past fear was almost laughable now.

I saw the colour drain from her face as she heard my honest answer. I saw the disgust in her eyes as she slowly stepped away from me. There were no tears. That wasn't surprising coming from Dylan. Besides, as she once blatantly put it herself, why would she cry over me? The silence, however, was the most painful part. I knew she wasn't one to get emotional, and sometimes that made it hard for me to read how she was feeling. But at that moment, not getting any sentence from her at a slightly raised volume told me all I needed to know. I had lost her. And I deserved it.

Technically, I had known what happened to her sister since our first date. It wasn't until later that night that I had a definitive answer. I hated the guy I always turned into when I tried to get her out of my mind.

There was something about her that always made it impossible for me to stay away. The first time was the night at that frat house, where I barely lasted a couple of hours and ended up waiting outside her apartment. The second time I managed to stay away for almost an entire month until I saw her out on New Year's Eve and called her Angel for the first time. I became blinded by love during that time, even to the point where I thought I would be invincible during a trip to her parent's house. My luck, however, quickly ran out. Her mother, instantly catching on as to who I was, encouraged her husband to sign a pretty penny to keep me away.

You might as well walk away with something, I recall her saying, Because when she finds out what you've been hiding from her, you will lose her completely.

Her father was all too eager to call me a cab in the middle of the night, practically tossing my bags out the front door. Little did he know, I wasn't just some guy who he had written off as a bad influence on his daughter. I was someone who knew his family's secret.

"Morning," the female voice purred. "Have you been awake long?"

"No, just a little while," I lied, peeling my eyes away from the spot on the ceiling I had been staring at for the past few hours.

Glancing to the side, I took in the female companion that laid next to me. For the past week, I had fallen into old habits, doing whatever - and whomever - necessary to forget. They say time heals all wounds, but I always thought of that as a crock of shit. Who in their right mind would want to sit around in their own misery? Besides, there was no winning Dylan back. What would be the point of acting any differently?

"I'm going to hop in the shower," she said as she sat up with a devilish grin, "Care to join me?"

"You head in. I'll be there in a minute."

The dark-haired beauty, whose name I had quickly forgotten, made her way out of the bed. As she walked towards the bathroom, I caught sight of the various tattoos she had: a phrase across her shoulder blades, one down her spine, and another on the side of her thigh. This woman resembled how the others looked; the complete opposite of my Angel - Dylan. The opposite of Dylan.

The bathroom door left slightly ajar allowed the noise of the shower to be heard from where I laid on the bed. As I began counting in my head, my eyes returned back to that spot on the ceiling I had distracted myself with since the early hours. Glancing towards the door, I concluded it was ample time for my companion to be in the shower by now. And with that conclusion in mind, I got out of the bed and gathered my clothes.

Adjusting to the glaring sunrise was difficult enough. Mixed still being intoxicated from the night prior, made it unbearable. Running a hand over my face, I look around the current street I was standing on to figure out where the fuck I even was. Something about it felt oddly familiar. Then, my eyes caught it. Across the street was a familiar brick apartment building. Ang- Dylan's apartment. Doing a quick calculator in my head led me to believe there was a chance she was still there. Or at least, her things were. I blamed the sudden decision I made on my lack of judgement due to the alcohol that still coursed through my veins. Before I could question what I was doing, I found myself making my way through the lobby and up the stairs.

It had been less than a week since I had been in this building. And yet, through all the nights of drinking and women, I was instantly weakened by the slightest memory of her. Standing only a few feet away from her door, I realized that I hadn't thought any of this through. Asking for forgiveness after I had just left some random woman's apartment? Really fucking smart, Hunter.

Just as I was about to retreat from my stupid mistake, I noticed the apartment door was slightly ajar. And like the stupid idiot I was, I couldn't help myself. I gently pushed the door open and felt my heart sink as I looked around. Everything had already been taken out. Every trace of Dylan was removed from the apartment. She was gone.

The only thing left behind was a box on the kitchen counter, with large letters that spelled out the word TRASH written in permanent marker. However, the contents of the box were not trash, at least, it wasn't to me. It was all the memories of us that she still had, which were previously scattered across this very apartment. I noticed them myself when I helped her pack.

Before I had the chance to dive deeper into the box, voices from down the hall pulled me out of my trance. I needed to get out of here before getting caught. And I needed to take the box of "trash" with me. Making my way out of the building and into a cab, I gave the driver the address of where I wanted to go. A place that, unsurprisingly to me, wasn't home.

As the cab slowed to a stop, I paid the driver and got out of the car. With the box in hand, I stood out in front of Club A, a place where I spent most of my days before it was an acceptable hour to head out for the night. I enjoyed spending my days here as I was able to do so alone. No staff were required until the middle of the afternoon, allowing me to have many hours of peace.

Placing the box on the desk and sitting down in my chair, I let out a defeated sigh. I felt like an idiot taking the box with me, and an even bigger idiot for going to her apartment in the first place. Why I couldn't stay away every time I made the promise to, I didn't know. Maybe it was because fixing it was so far out of my reach, even though that's all I wanted to do.

I began to realize how ironic it was that I enjoyed spending my time in this office because it was yet another reminder of her. Club A, a place not only named after her but created using the money from that cheque. The money that was payment to stay away from her.

One would think my next step was obvious; therapy. It was abundantly clear there were many things I had to work on. I would probably have to sell this building in order to pay a sufficient fee to get all the help I needed. Yet, there was a much simpler solution in my bottom drawer. Reaching down, I pulled the handle, relieved to find a trusty bottle and a glass. Therapy would be a task for tomorrow. Then I would be able to add drinking before nine in the morning to the list of things that needed to be discussed.

I only wanted to momentarily numb the thoughts rushing through my head. Or so, that's what I told myself as I raised the glass to my lips. The satisfying burn ran down my throat as I eyed the cardboard box in front of me. Knowing what was already inside didn't make it any easier to look at. Quickly draining the remaining contents of my glass, I opened the box. My heart instantly dropped to the bottom of my stomach. It wasn't just random, frivolous items that had been collected over the duration of our relationship, it was everything, including items I had no idea she had kept.

An old t-shirt of mine. The purple teddy bear that I had won for her at a carnival. The CD she had put together of her favourite songs for when we drove in my car. Another old t-shirt. She had even taken the time to put every single art supply, including picking out the individual paint brushes, that I had given her.

The sketchbook, the one I distinctly remember looking at while at her apartment, was also included. Alongside it was a small jewelry box, that I did not recall gifting her. Inside the box was a collection of things: photos of the two of us, a few tickets from movies and concerts, a handful of the short notes I would write to her. A piece of silver at the bottom of the box caught my eye.

I poured myself another drink as I held up the necklace. The two pendants, the circle engraved with the number 18 and the angel wing, dangled from the chain. She kept it.

The shirts, teddy bear, and CD were all things that could have been buried away at the back of her closet, unfound until it was time to pack. The art supplies made sense to keep all this time, considering they were clearly well used. However, the contents kept inside the jewelry box were different. It had to be. Right?

Refilling my glass, my hand tightly grasped the dainty silver chain, almost as if I were scared it was about to disappear. Picking up the photos, I smiled to myself as I looked through them.

"Calm down, Angel. No one's going to suspect a thing," I whispered, keeping an arm securely around her waist as we walked.

"People are staring, Hunter!" She responded sharply in a hushed tone.

"That's because of how stunning you look." Leaning down, my lips grazed her ear. "In fact, I don't know where you've been hiding this sexy black dress from me, but once I get the chance I am ripping it off you."

Dylan rolled her eyes, swatting my chest with the fact of her hand. However, she failed to hide the pink tint that spread across her cheeks. "When you said you were getting us in, I didn't realize that meant paying a worker two-hundred dollars to sneak us in through the side door."

As a server passed by with a tray of champagne, I quickly grabbed two glasses. "I did what I had to do to ensure my Angel got to see the exhibition of one of her favourite artists'," I said, handing her a glass. "You've been talking about this Lauren Dubios guy for weeks."

"Laurent," she corrected, using perfect French pronunciation.

I knew the guy's name, I just enjoyed hearing her say it. As the two of us walked into the main exhibit, Dylan's eyes widened with joy as she looked around.

Giving a fake smile and nod to an older couple, I turned to her. "I don't get it," I said, after looking at what felt like the hundredth painting. "It's just a bunch of circles. This is how the guy got famous? I could do that."

"Abstract art is all about departing from an accurate representation of something..." she began. I loved it when she explained all of her knowledge of art to me. Sometimes I would purposefully say a snide remark, like the one I just did, to get her talking. "... through the use of colour and shapes. I'm surprised you don't like this one."

"Why's that?"

"Because it's a painting of boobs."

I choked on my drink. "Actually?"

Dylan giggled, nodding her head. "In fact, it's quite controversial. He was married at the time and, rumour has it, his wife wasn't his inspiration."

"Damn, Dubios was a wild guy." I quickly looked around before handing Dylan my camera. "Take my picture in front of it!"

"What! Are you crazy?"

"Come on!" I whispered, moving to stand in front of the painting, raising a quick thumbs up.

I couldn't help but smile at the juvenile behaviour of myself in that image, grinning like a boy over a painting of breasts that I assumed were only circles. I poured another drink, looking at the next photo.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I'm sure you're bored of me talking about art."

"Not at all. I like hearing about how wild Dubios was." I followed her gaze to the painting in front of us, amazed by its enormous size. "You know, one day we're going to come here and it will be for your exhibition."

"Oh, please," Dylan shook her head, "There's no way I could ever get to this level."

"You're going to eat those words, I'm telling you. Stay there," I instructed, leaving her side as I backed up.

"What are you-" she stopped herself, spotting the camera in my hand. "Hunter," she hissed, "Don't!"

"I need proof of this moment!" I quickly looked around once again. "Smile!"

"Would you put that damn thing away now?" Dylan whispered, "If security catches you, we'll get kicked out."

"Oh, we're fine." Looking over my shoulder, I spotted a few security guards huddled in conversation. One looked up, tapped another on the shoulder and pointed in our direction. "Alright, Angel, I think it's time to chug that drink."

I glanced over once again, seeing the men now make their way towards us. "Scratch that. No time." I took the glass from her and set it on the table. Taking her hand, I pulled her through the crowd, hurrying towards our escape route. I expected her to understandably throw a fit or be upset over what I had put us through. Instead, she surprised me like she always did; laughing as we narrowly escaped what could have been an extremely unfortunate consequence.

"Hunter..."

"Yes?"

"Hunter..."

"Yes?"

"Hello! Earth to Hunter!"

My head snapped up, realizing the voice calling my name was not hers. With half-opened eyes, I looked towards the dark-haired woman standing on the other side of my desk.

"What time is it?" I grumbled.

"Almost four," the female answered, crossing her arms over her chest. "Cydney wants approval to take the weekend off. But that's totally not fair because she got off last weekend and we all had to pick up the slack while she was gone."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "And, what the fuck do you want me to do about it?"

"Tell her no!"

"Fine. She can't take it off. Happy?"

She nodded with a grin, pressing her palms against the desk to lean forward. "What's all this stuff?" She asked, referring to the memorabilia laid out in the open.

"Nothing."

"Who's she?" She pointed to an image of Dylan smiling next to a bowl of cake batter. "Your girlfriend?" She asked in a taunting tone.

Snatching the photo out of her hand, I quickly snapped back, "Are we done here?"

The woman pouted her bottom lip. "Don't worry. It's not like I care. I won't tell."

I returned to my drink as the female continued chatting. I had somehow been able to successfully tune the sound of her out as she continued talking. Watching the employees that clocked in for work, I recognized a familiar face. Jake. The wheels in my head began to turn. Jake was here. Him being here meant he was not with Abby. Dylan wasn't at her apartment anymore. It would only make sense that Dylan would therefore be at Abby's, which could only mean that-

"Out."

"What?"

"Get out."

"You know," the female snipped, "All the other girls warned me that you were an ass." She reached into her purse and threw the silk material in my direction. "Here's your tie back. You forgot it when you were leaving my apartment this morning, asshole."

I ignored whatever-her-name-was as she stormed out of my office in a dramatic huff. Quickly clearing my desk, I put all the items back into the jewelry box, before placing it and the sketchbook into the locked cabinet. Then, with little to no plan or reasoning behind my actions, I exited the building and began my journey on the streets of Los Angeles. Somehow, to my own surprise, I managed to find my way towards Abby's building. It was close to the club, Jake had brought it up many times, yet the fact I was able to recall the address was quite impressive.

As the door opened, the happy look on Abby's face quickly vanished as she caught sight of me. "Oh, fuck no," she yelled, gripping the door to slam it shut.

"Please, Abby!" I pleaded, pressing my hand against the door to keep it open.

"What the fuck do you want?"

"I just want to talk to her," I said, hearing the pathetic desperation in my voice. "Please, Abby. Please."

"First of all, she's not here," she snapped, "Second of all, you fucking reek of alcohol. I'm not letting your drunk, stupid self into my apartment. No fucking way!"

"I just need five minutes with her," I said, trying to wedge myself through the small gap, "Dylan!" I shouted. "Dylan, please!"

Abby pushed my body with ease, causing me to stumble back a few steps. "How drunk are you? I said she's not here. And even if she was, there's no chance in hell I'd let you talk to her."

"But it wasn't me! I didn't do anything!"

"You knew, Hunter. You knew this entire time."

I rubbed the back of my neck with one hand. "Come on. That's not fair-"

"Not fair?" She scoffed. "Do you know what it was like being the only person she opened up to? Being the only one she trusted? Hard. Really fucking hard. So when she actually opened up to you, for a second there, I was grateful. Grateful that she had someone else to turn to." Abby shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest. "But you just had to ruin that. Because all this time, you knew what happened to her sister. You knew when she told you every deep dark secret she kept about her pain. And you sure as hell knew the other night when you convinced her you were some good guy again, messed her up in the head by somehow making her think you loved her, and then, on top of all of that fuckery, you slept with her."

Abby was right. However, my drunken mind was far past the point of actually understanding the meaning behind what she was saying.

"I can't let her go," I whispered, unsure if my words were meant for Abby or for myself. "I've tried to do the right thing. I really fucking tried."

"How do you even know what happened?"

I opened my mouth to speak, and almost said the words right there and then. What if Abby didn't let me in? What if she told Dylan herself? No, that wouldn't be right. I could not let that happen. Dylan needed to hear it from me and I wasn't going to back out this time. "Just let me wait for her and I'll tell you both. Please, Abby, I love her. I can't lose her again."

"Hunter, she's not here!"

"Yeah, I know!" I threw my hands up out of frustration. "So let me wait-"

"No, you idiot. She got a job offer and went to Europe." Abby sighed, her eyes softening to a look of pitiful sadness. "She's gone, Hunter. Forever."

one more chapter to go my angels :(

any predictions for the finale??

lemme know and dont forget to vote <3