“Would you mind running in the house and getting me a butter knife? It’s in the drawer next to the refrigerator,” Della or maybe Willa asked sweetly.
I pursed my lips but nodded all the same.
Anything to get me out of the damn sideshow that I was currently being forced to be a part of.
“You can use the side door over there.” He gestured with his head toward a side door that wouldn’t make me go through the entire house. “And unless they moved them, they’re actually in the drawer next to the sink.”
I rolled my eyes. “Thanks, Hunt.”
With my head definitely wandering—because seriously, how in the ever-loving fuck had Hunt been raised by these people and not turned into a complete lunatic—I went into the kitchen in search of the butter knife.
Out of curiosity, I opened the drawer that they’d said to open and found the drawer full of junk and old photos. And right on top of those old photos was a photo of Hunt with his arm around a beautiful woman with long, dark hair.
Her hair was beautiful. I half wished that I could find someone that would make my hair do something close to that.
I mean, how the hell did she make it look so shiny and sleek?
The rest of her was just as beautiful as her hair.
I mean, she had a killer set of legs, beautiful plump breasts, and a smile that looked like she paid quite a few grand for it.
She also had not a single lick of fat on her.
I’m talking, none.
Like, even her arm pits didn’t look like she even had a hint of fat there.
I had to prop my arm up on my hip to make it appear as if I didn’t.
This woman had her arm close to her side.
I bet she didn’t ever have to think about arm fat in her photos.
Obviously.
Rolling my eyes, I put the photo back. I would not fall for whatever game they were playing.
I went to the correct drawer and picked up the butter knife that they ‘needed’ and then started to the door. I was thwarted from leaving by the stupid shiny bowl that was sitting on the table next to the door.
With nothing for it, I stopped at the bowl of M&M’s, grabbed a handful, and popped a few in my mouth.
Ahh, heaven.
I hadn’t had the peanut ones in years.
I’d been a super disciplined person over the last couple of years, only having straight sugar on the weekends when I had time to compensate for the sugar intake by working out.
But if anything called for straight up sugary carbs, meeting and being forced to hang out with Hunt’s asshole of a family was definitely it.
After I got outside, I allowed my eyes to adjust to the brightness.
I looked over, my eyes taking in the pool where all the kids were playing.
It was a giant of a pool. Kidney-shaped with a fucking beach entry on one side, and a waterslide on the other, it was a little kid’s dream.
Out of habit, I counted the heads of the children. I’d been doing it randomly throughout the entire day.
Six.
I frowned and came to a stop, butter knife in one hand, and a handful of M&M’s that I was probably going to regret later in the other.
There should only be five heads in the pool…
That’s when I saw the sixth head bob up, then sink slowly back down.
There was no splashing.
There was no flailing.
There was no sound at all.
Just a slow sinking, a bob back up, and then a sinking again.
Like a bobber on a lake in the middle of a calm day.
Sink. Up. Sink. Up.
That’s when it hit me.
Like a battering ram straight to the chest.
I ran across the yard, through the rose bushes, over the wall that separated the pool from the back yard, and all but dove into the pool in my need to get to the child that most assuredly wasn’t supposed to be in the pool.
I caught the boy up around the body, kicking lightly to keep myself and him afloat, and started to pound him on the back.
He coughed and spewed water, eventually throwing up on me.
“Oh no! Jordan!” I heard one of the kids say. “Is he okay?”
The baby’s name was apparently Jordan. The rest of the kids in the pool finally noticed that something was going on.
“Jordan! Oh my God! Why are you in the pool without your floatie?” I heard the frantic niece of Hunt say.
I wasn’t sure of her name. I couldn’t remember them.
None of them had introduced themselves to me, and I could only guess at who they were at this point.
“You okay, buddy?” I said softly, ignoring the vomit that was down my chest and looking the child in his eyes.
They were wide and terrified.
And he threw himself toward me, wrapping his arms so tight around my neck that at first I was surprised by the power of a two-year-old’s grip.
“Give him to me!” I heard screamed.
I made my way toward the edge of the pool, surprised when I saw that Hunt was in the pool next to me.
He was just standing there, waist deep, staring at me. His eyes were wide and terrified, and he looked like he couldn’t quite decide whether or not to come to me or not.
I swallowed hard and looked away, my gaze going to the sister of Hunt’s, the mother of the little boy.
She gestured with one impatient hand for me to give the boy to her, and I could do nothing less.
She snatched him from me the moment that I got close enough, and then he was halfway across the pool’s sidewalk as they all converged on him.
Hunt hadn’t moved out of the pool, and neither had I.
I started to cry then, and he pulled me into his arms. Vomit and all.
“Can we eat now?” Fred asked from his spot on the chair where he’d planted himself at some point.
Hell, he was so focused
