So Rare (Boys of South Chapel #3)

18. Levi

Chapter 18

Levi

NOW

We couldn’t get away from that place fast enough. Somehow, I’m the one behind the wheel now, despite the rage simmering just below the surface.

Someone—multiple people, in fact—hurt Hunter.

They hurt Hunter so fucking badly that the woman buckled into the back seat only remotely resembles her.

Honestly, I shouldn’t be driving, but Spence is busy taking care of business related to his, well, new businesses, I guess, and Greedy is comforting our girl.

One glance in the rearview mirror is all I can manage before I have to direct all my focus squarely on the road.

Her entire body is turned into his, her head burrowing into his shoulder. He’s got both arms around her, holding her and soothing her in a way I physically ache to but can’t.

I’ve never felt like this while witnessing the two of them together. They were each other’s firsts. I know they love each other, just like I know that whatever she’s going through isn’t permanent.

Yet I can’t keep my teeth from grinding or my grip on the steering wheel from getting tighter with each mile that races by.

I want to be back there. I want to be in the thick of it, holding and comforting them both.

After a thorough assessment, Greedy determined Hunter did not require immediate medical attention. Kabir was satisfied with Greedy’s evaluation but claimed he had several emails to send.

It made sense that I drive.

But I really fucking hate being stuck behind the wheel.

“Wait,” Greedy says through a yawn. There’s no urgency to his tone, and yet I still find myself easing off the gas. “We never called Decker.”

Hunter shoots up like a shot. “Do Joey and her guys know what’s going on?”

The question grates on my already frayed nerves.

“They’re aware.” Kabir turns in his seat to hand Hunter his phone. “Here, love. Call this number. It should connect to Kylian Walsh.”

“Why do you have Kylian’s number?”

“We needed his help,” Kabir offers by way of explanation. “He’s quite clever, that one. I like how his brain works.”

Greedy snorts. “You would.”

I accelerate, frustrated as all get-out that they’re all like we’re on a casual road trip back to North Carolina.

“Hunter!” A feminine voice fills the otherwise silent car. “What the hell? What happened? Are you okay? We’ve been so worried!” Joey’s words come out fast and frantic.

An uncomfortable laugh stutters out of Hunter. “Girl, you’re supposed to be on your honeymoon. I don’t know whether to be flattered or concerned that you’ve got time to think about me.”

There it is.

There’s the fucking rub.

Hunter remembers Joey. She remembers Joey’s partners. Hell, she even remembers that Joey is supposed to be on a tropical island, enjoying her honeymoon.

But she doesn’t fucking remember me.

I stomp on the brake harder than necessary as I approach a toll booth.

“Easy.” Kabir braces himself against the dash. In my periphery, he’s staring me down, but I do my damn best to ignore him. “Let’s pull off at the next rest area. I could drive for a stretch.”

My head shakes of its own volition, my whole being adamantly opposed to the idea of giving up the last shred of control I have in this situation.

I don’t want to switch. I don’t want to be in a position where I’m not occupied with getting us safely home. If I’m available and she still doesn’t remember me or need me? Then the rejection will hurt that much worse.

Before I can verbally object, Spence rubs my thigh firmly. “No worries, champ. It was a shit idea, anyway. I’d probably have us careening down the wrong side of the highway.”

I let out a silent sigh of relief.

Spence squeezes my leg once more, lighter this time, then leaves me be.

The girls chatter on, and then another voice joins their conversation.

“Decker has an idea,” Joey announces through the phone. “Are we on speaker?”

“You are,” Greedy confirms.

“Hey, Hunter,” Decker says, his voice deep and serious. “I’m glad you’re okay. Listen, we won’t be home for another five days. And I can only assume you don’t want to go back to Dr. Ferguson’s house. Am I right?”

Fucking hell.

My gut twists into a painful knot. I hadn’t even thought about that. Which is especially ridiculous, because I’m the one transporting the group to North Carolina.

Decker’s right. There’s no way we can go back to the Ferguson residence. Kabir’s warning was direct and to the point, but Magnolia is unpredictable. If she also returns to South Chapel, there’s no way any of us could stand to cohabitate with her.

“I think I can safely speak for all of us when I say we most definitely do not want to go back to the Ferguson residence,” Kabir replies.

“Why don’t you stay at our place? At least until you regroup and figure out what’s next.”

We’re all silent for a breath, then another, as we take in Decker’s offer, eyes pinging from one person to another around the cab of the truck.

“I assume the accommodations are adequate?” Kabir asks.

Greedy snorts, and Hunter assures Kabir that the Crusade mansion is, in fact, more than adequate.

Decker rattles off a few more instructions about the marina and getting to the isle. And just like that, we have a destination in mind.

Once the girls have said their goodbyes, Kabir hands the device back to Greedy and asks him to put in the proper coordinates.

“Starting route to Exit 27, North Marina, Lake Chapel, North Carolina.”