Page 31 of Shades of You (Calypso Key #4)

Chapter Thirty-One

Brenna

Hunter’s question echoed in my head as I gaped at the empty doorway Knox had just exited through. A maelstrom of emotions churned within me. I felt the echo of his words—his earnest plea to start anew—but they crumbled against the tide of realization that swept through me. Knox’s return didn’t rekindle old flames. Instead, it had cast a stark light on the depth of my feelings for the man behind me.

Hunter’s hands rested on my shoulders. His touch was solid and reassuring, yet I needed to find my feet alone. I stepped away and turned to face him, inhaling deeply as I tried to quell the storm inside.

“I’m all right,” I lied. And even to my ears, it sounded unconvincing.

Hunter stood before me, a figure sculpted in black tension. Massive and muscular, his presence filled the room. Yet it wasn’t just his physicality that commanded attention—it was the taut line of his jaw, his dark hair falling just so and framing a face that held its secrets close. His eyes, usually so warm and inviting to me, were guarded and wary as they flicked back to the shred of paper that lay on the bookshelf. His mouth tightened even more, catching my attention. The sight of Knox’s scribbled number seemed to gnaw at him.

Hunter’s fingers curled into fists, then released as if he were grappling with an invisible adversary, one that threatened the fragile peace we’d built together. The air between us crackled, and each glance toward the scrawled digits on the paper amplified the volume of the silence.

“Thank you for being here,” I said with only a slight tremor in my voice. “When Knox showed up, I wasn’t sure… You were so quiet.”

“If I’m around, you’re never alone, Brenna. I was assessing the situation.” Something unreadable laced Hunter’s deep baritone. His dark gaze darted again to the torn piece of paper, and the grind of his teeth made his jaw bulge. “He wasn’t acting threatening, so I waited. But when I saw you walk over to stand near the panic button, I moved. I can’t believe the son of a bitch just waltzed in here like nothing had happened. How did you feel, seeing him again?”

I met his gaze head-on, determined to convey the truth swirling inside me. “It only confirmed what I already knew. I’ve moved on.”

But as the words left my lips, Hunter’s reaction wasn’t what I had anticipated. Instead of relief or reassurance, his demeanor shifted subtly. He straightened, growing even taller and more imposing. His eyes held a glint of something male and primal—a mixture of protectiveness and possessiveness that made my gut clench.

Whether it was clenching with warning or desire, I wasn’t sure .

Turning, he fixated on the hand-scrawled note. As if Knox’s mere presence had rekindled insecurities within Hunter—doubts that now showed clearly beneath the heat of his gaze.

“Wait a minute.” Boldness surged within me, driven by the need to understand this enigmatic soul who had unexpectedly become the center of my world. “Are you jealous ?”

The question hung between us, its four syllables heavier than the air pressing against our skin. Hunter’s hooded eyes met mine. For a moment, we were suspended in time—the sound of passing cars, the distant laughter of people strolling by on the street all fading into insignificance.

“Maybe,” he admitted, though the word came out grudgingly. And in the slight drop of his guard, I glimpsed the vulnerability he fought so hard to conceal—the raw, unvarnished truth of Hunter Markham laid bare.

His admission hit me, and it took everything in me not to reach out and smooth the lines of concern etched into his brow. Yet I held back. Whatever was building between us needed the freedom to crash upon the shore unrestrained. I turned away from him, my gaze falling on the torn piece of paper perched on the edge of the bookshelf.

With a sudden burst of motion, I crossed the floor, snatched the paper, and tore it into pieces. The sound of it ripping between my fingers was cathartic. Pieces of paper fluttered to the floor like broken wings, each fragment a symbol of my determination to move past the threats to what Hunter and I shared now. “Knox doesn’t matter. And neither does his number.”

Hunter studied me, his body still as a statue, but his eyes… they were alive with an intensity that scorched the air around us. “Knox is a piece of shit,” he said slowly, the wo rds laced with tight bitterness, “but he might be right about one thing. Am I any better than him?”

The self-doubt gnawing at him was written in the hard set of his shoulders and the way one hand tapped against his thigh. He was the embodiment of strength. Yet in his eyes, all I saw was a man who believed he was unworthy.

“Stop that,” I said firmly. “You’re nothing like him.”

He let out a tight, humorless laugh. “No, I’m not. Knox is a small-time loser. He pales compared to the mistakes I’ve made… the things I’ve done. You shouldn’t be with me. I tried to tell you that.”

I stormed back to him, the fury inside me igniting. The fragments of Knox’s number crunched under my heel in a satisfying punctuation to my mounting anger. I squared my shoulders, facing Hunter with an intensity that matched what I saw on his face.

“Listen to me,” I said, my voice rising. “It’s not for you to decide what I deserve. Don’t you think I should get to determine who I date? Who I’m involved with? I thought we were past this, dammit.”

Hunter faltered, his usually stoic presence wavering under my fervor. He looked away and skated a hand over his beard.

But I wasn’t finished—not by a long shot. My hands gestured wildly. “Everyone has a past! What matters is what we do with it. And you, Hunter Markham, are doing everything you can to start again. That’s the man I’m standing here with. Not the boy who made one mistake that affected the trajectory of his entire life.”

As his eyes met mine again, his voice was a low rumble. “Right. You’re so proud of me that you won’t even introduce me. Even though your family knows about us.”

The question sent ripples through the carefully constructed walls around my heart. How could I explain? That I was the woman who wanted to end this feud between our families, but now I was afraid I was only going to cement it further.

“That’s not true,” I said through gritted teeth, but the words tasted bitter on my tongue. “And yeah, maybe I need to work some stuff out too. You Markhams have your storied reputation and your success. And we Coleridges have our difficult, scrappy existence.”

“So I’m just a fling to hide away, then?” Hunter’s voice, sharper than a blade, cut through the pretense. “Because meeting my family—that went fine, didn’t it? But when it comes to yours?—”

“Look at me, Hunter. I want peace. Peace between your family and mine. But I can’t ignore the reality that as we get closer, it gets even more complicated. I can’t tell you my siblings won’t throw your past in your face. And I don’t want to expose you to that since it is very clear right now that you’re still confronting a shitload of baggage. And that is what you need to deal with.”

His jaw clenched, his burning eyes locked on mine. “What are you saying? That we’re just… what? Star-crossed lovers, doomed from the start?”

“No.” The word came out more forceful than I intended. I reached for his hand, finding it unyielding, but I held on, needing the connection. “I’m scared, okay? I’m terrified that by bringing you into my world, I might lose you. Or I might lose my family. And I can’t—I won’t let that happen.”

“And what about me?” Hunter’s words sliced through the air. “When we stepped on Aiden’s boat, I didn’t know how my family was going to react to you. If they’d treated you with anything less than respect, do you think I would’ve stood for it? I watched closely the entire time we were out on the water. Ready to act if necessary. Because I won’t let anyone mistreat you, Brenna. Not even my own blood.”

Anguish tinged his voice, and his fierce loyalty made my heart ache. “Hunter, it’s not that I don’t trust you or your intentions. It’s just… You know about my family, our struggles. Introducing you now, it could?—”

“Make them see you’re happy?” He cut me off, pulling his hand away to rake it through his hair. “Or do you think I’m not good enough? That I’ll always be the black sheep Markham?”

“Stop it! It’s not about being good enough. You understand me better than any man I’ve ever known. This is all about timing, about making sure when we do this, we do it right. Letting my family get used to the idea of you and me. Us.”

“Timing!” He scowled, parking his hands on his hips. He looked as if he wanted to say more, but instead, he just stared at me, his entire being tense and tight.

And something snapped in me. Heat swept through me, a wildfire of indignation sparking in my belly. “Look at what you grew up with, Hunter!” I flung my arm toward Calypso Key and its storied resort. “Your family built that place. That huge house, all those bungalows, the history of it all. The Markhams are practically royalty around here.”

His eyes flickered with confusion. But I pressed on as centuries-old resentment rose inside me. “But what about the Coleridges? We lost everything to your ancestors. Calypso Key was ours. We’ve had to sit back and watch as your family experienced success after success with it. And meanwhile, our legacy on Dove Key has been chipped away over the decades.”

I paused for a moment. He knew the story as well as I did of that high-stakes poker game over a century ago. When his risk-taking ancestor beat mine and gained an empire.

Hunter was still as a statue, but his eyes flashed dangerously. “You have no idea the sacrifices my family has made. Present generation included, Brenna.”

“I’m sure that’s true. But do you have any idea how hard it is for us? To be constantly reminded of all that’s not ours anymore?” My hands flailed helplessly in front of me as I struggled to articulate generations’ worth of bitterness and regret. “I’m not trying to make excuses, but can’t you see? Our side of this divide is different than yours—we’re the ones who lost.”

I stared at him pleadingly, willing him to understand. That we were trying to navigate through centuries-old grudges and unhealed wounds. And that wasn’t even taking into account the problems Hunter himself faced.

“I understand your family hasn’t had it easy,” I continued. “I understand you haven’t. Or Evan. But dammit, Hunter, this isn’t just about you! I’m trying to walk a tightrope here between a century of anger and resentment.”

“So am I. Between the light and the shadows.”

I wanted to be supportive. I wanted to be encouraging. But dammit, I was frustrated. “So what are you saying? Are you just giving up on us? Is this what happened with her? With your great love you lost?”

His face went completely blank. “What are you talking about?”

The words had tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them. But now that they had, I was determined to have my say. “You told me you were in love once. But obviously it didn’t work out, because now there’s no sign of her. Well, Hunter, I’ve got some news for you. No woman can be in a relationship with a ghost! Is she another part of your tragic past? Or just someone who got fed up?”

A completely unreadable expression covered his shock. “Why do you want to know?”

Because I love you.

But that was the last thing I should say out loud. “Because I want to know what happened. I’m curious, okay? Maybe I’m doing something wrong. Maybe I remind you of her, and that’s making you back away.”

His face was completely inscrutable as he stared at me. I swallowed, thinking I might have just made a big mistake. Maybe this woman was something he couldn’t talk about. “Hunter, if you can’t talk about her, tell me. There is such depth to you, and I have a strong feeling she’s part of it. But I don’t want to push too hard.”

Hunter scrubbed both hands over his beard, the gesture one of defeat. “I’m not ready to talk about her. Not yet. Look, I need to go. I can’t do this right now.” He turned on his heel with military precision and headed toward the back door, each step carrying him farther from me. From us.

“Where are you going?” The question was weak and feeble, even to my own ears.

“Somewhere I can breathe,” he said, the door closing behind him with an ominous click.

Left alone, I wrapped my arms around myself as if they could hold together the pieces of my heart, which had just splintered. My shop seemed emptier and smaller without Hunter in it. The silence echoed around me, yet our words still hung in the air, their sharp edges cutting through my thoughts.

I picked up a discarded book from the table near the front door, its pages worn and dog-eared. It was an old copy of Romeo and Juliet. My fingers traced over the faded cover as I thought about our own star-crossed predicament.

As I flipped open the book randomly, a bitter laugh escaped my lips. My eyes had landed on Juliet’s famous line: “ What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”

Would it? Would Hunter be any less a Markham if he bore another name? And would I be any less a Coleridge? I resisted the urge to hurl the book across the room. Was there even room for us amidst all this chaos?

Hunter said he needed space to breathe. Maybe I needed that too—to step back and look at everything from afar. Maybe we both needed time to figure things out separately before trying to piece them together.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I stared blankly at the deserted area around me—the place where our story had begun again. Now, it was a stark reminder of the gaping chasm between us. I stared at the two lovers on the cover of the book. Were Hunter and I destined to stay divided like some modern-day Romeo and Juliet? Unlike them, we still had a chance to change our ending—to write our own story.

But would we let history dictate our fate instead?