Where We Left Off (A Hunter Hayes Fanfiction, Book 2 of the HunTia Trilogy)

Chapter Twenty-Four

*A/N: So, lots of comments last chapter! About what Tia and Hunter are having.

Lots of you guessed "twins".

Well, to you, I have one thing to say.

...

That, my readers, is me in absolute shock.

Now see, if I had been reading my own book, I would never have guessed that they were having twins.

GOOD FOR YOU!!!! YOU SMART, SMART READERS!!!

BUT, I don't want any comments about the types of twins.

Identical?

Not identical?

Similar in any way?

As different as the north and south?

No.

Nothing.

Please respect this, because if you don't, I will stalk you, find your house, come into your room while you're sleeping, and eat your soul.

Or I'll delete your comment.

Either way, please don't!

Nethii <3*

*LATE SEPTEMBER, 2013*

HUNTER'S POV:

I walk inside after a long day of tour preparations. Opening the door, Olive greets me immediately, and I scratch her behind the ears and give her a treat.

Where's Tia?

"Tee?" I call, expecting her to call back from the laundry, or our bedroom, just somewhere.

But I don't hear a sound.

"Tia, baby?" I call again. She still doesn't reply, and I remember when she thought I had left her, and she went to the bathroom.

I check, but she isn't there either.

Finally, I find her in the music room, her dark curls covering half her face. She's huddled up in a corner, and her eyes are wild and scared, like an animal.

"Love?" I ask, approaching her slowly. She looks terrified of me. The second I reach my hand out to touch her, she scrambles away, breathing hard. I'm frozen, my arm still in the same position.

"Tia, it's me. It's Hunter," I say softly. Something was terribly wrong with her. I attempt to touch her face again, and since I have her cornered, she flinches, but lets me touch her. I slowly brush her hair away from her face.

A bruise is blossoming on her cheekbone.

I feel my hands curl up into fists. "Who did this to you?" I ask her softly. Tears roll down her face silently, but she doesn't say a word. "Who did this to you?!" I ask, close to yelling. I wasn't angry at her, but rather at myself for letting this happen, and at whoever did this to her.

She begins to sob, horrible, terrified sobs. "Please don't hurt me," she sobs, her voice breaking.

How could I have made her cry? Instantly I feel horrible.

"No, Tee," I say, talking softly again. I take her small, soft hand in mine, and rub some warmth into them with my thumbs. "I would never hurt you." She doesn't look like she knows who I am. I feel like I know where this has happened before.

Then I remember.

That first night at my house. When she had broken down, screaming. After she had been abused for nine years.