What You Don't Know (Sequel to "Secret Love")(Hunter Hayes/James Marsden)

What I Don't Want

It was almost one o'clock in the morning. Beth was still awake, her sweat-soaked clothes clinging to her skin. She had curled into fetal position in the center of the bed, and was staring at the bedroom door. Much of what she had done since her meeting with Jeremy Willakers was a blur. She had parked on the outskirts of Nashville and jumped out of the car. The souls of her feet ached from the long, intense run that had followed. The soreness in her eyes and the tight, salty skin on her cheeks reminded her that she had spent a long time sobbing: while her feet pounded the pavement, while her knuckles were turning white on the steering wheel of her car, while she had taken the stairs that led to the apartment. She could not remember eating, but there were dirty dishes in the sink. She did not remember going for another run at eleven p.m., but she had not returned until fifteen minutes ago. She did not recall how she had ended up here on the bed, but here she was.

Hunter finally made it home, and her brain snapped back to the present time, pulled abruptly from its idle wandering. Her body remained unyielding, but her brain registered the pad of his soft footsteps, the opening and closing of the refrigerator, and the dull thud of his guitar case on the tile in the kitchen: familiar sounds that made her ache with a ghost pain. Soon, she would not be hearing those sounds anymore.

His face finally appeared in the doorway, and he flicked the light switch in the bathroom a few seconds later, never looking her way. He probably thought she was sleeping already. She wished she was sleeping.

He closed the door behind him, and she heard the swish of the shower head pouring water down the drain. She was hit with a powerful need to be in his arms. She mustered her strength, forced her sore legs out of bed, and opened the bathroom door quickly. Hunter nearly jumped out his skin, not having expected her, as he was only half dressed in anticipation of his shower.

She did not run into his arms immediately, as she had wanted. She felt suddenly shy, imagining that the secrets in her heart had dyed her skin scarlet, and if she touched him, he would be stained as well.

"Beth?" he asked, a blush coloring his cheeks. His eyes darted to the jeans he had discarded, then to the black shirt he had tossed on the counter by the sink. Her eyes did not follow his, but locked on his face as she moved toward him timidly. When she reached him, she wrapped her arms around his middle and clung to him tightly. The sobs started again, and she could feel a palpable shift in Hunter's body when he registered that she was crying. He tensed, and his hands stroked her back in a half-crazed rhythm. He managed to maneuver her over to the shower, so he could shut off the water, but then he picked her up and carried her back to the bed, where he let her curl up in his lap.

When she finally stifled the racking sobs, she straddled his hips and put her hands on his shoulders, staring intently into his eyes.

"Hunter, we need to have a serious talk," she said pathetically.

He nodded. "I would say we do, Bethany. Why are you crying?" He ran his fingers over her cheek, and she held his hand there.

"Hunter..." she sighed. She had forgotten for a moment that she was forbidden from telling him about the FBI, or explaining why she was about to break his heart. Would it be easier to simply get up and leave? Pack her bags, change her phone number and simply disappear? She could come up with an excuse when she returned, and beg his forgiveness. She rejected the idea. She and Hunter had already been through one brutal separation; she could not think of doing that again, especially without giving him any reason at all.

"Just...let me think for a second, okay, Hunter?" He nodded warily, and she closed her eyes, still holding his warm palm to her cool cheek.

She had already made the decision to confess her past with Trenton to Hunter. This mission complicated that plan. Mere hours ago, Trenton McDermott was nothing but a horrible memory. She had only chosen to divulge what had happened to her because she had believed that Trenton was no longer a threat. Now that he was coming back into her life, and she knew she was in danger once again, could she tell Hunter? She hated knowing that if she told him, he would worry about her, but she also hated the thought of lying to him about her situation.