Fractured by Amanda Meadows Page A

had screwed up this relationship with Amber was the hardest thing he had ever done.
    Hunter couldn't believe that he had been on the verge of asking her to marry him. What an idiot he had been! And it was all his fault. That was the worst part. He couldn't even blame her for how she felt. His parents had been supportive, of course. But even they had hinted that he needed to think about working on his inner demons.
    The thing was, Hunter was terrified of those demons. There were things that he had been pushing aside his whole life. Ever since . . . Well, he sure as hell didn't want to revisit that memory, did he? His mother had gently mentioned that she knew a good therapist. The thought made Hunter depressed. A therapist was the last person he wanted to see.
    He sat up to grab some tissues from the bedside table. He didn't remember the box there from before. He pictured his mother sneaking it in earlier this evening. Hunter could hide most emotional stuff from his dad. But his mom was just too intuitive. She must have sensed that he was going to shed more than a few tears tonight.
    Groaning, Hunter stared at his childhood ceiling. He reached over to turn off the lamp and the entire ceiling glowed with hundreds of stars his mother had laboriously stuck on all those years ago. Even now as an adult, he was thrilled to see them shining in the dark. He was sure that Amber would enjoy them. But no. Not now.
    Stop being a whiny wimp! Hunter's conscience berated him. Sure you screwed up. Badly. But that doesn't mean you have to roll over and play dead. Be a man. Give Amber a reason to think you're serious about facing your issues. Your mom's right. Stop being a wuss and see the freaking shrink. And get your snotty self out of bed and give the woman a call. You never even apologized for being an ass!
    Hunter sat up, reached over to switch the lamp back on and rolled off the bed. He carefully  placed the gray stuffed rabbit back in the rocking chair. His conscience was right. He wasn't a helpless little kid anymore. Walking to his bedroom door, he cracked it and made sure nobody was in the hallway before he quickly padded to the bathroom to wash his face.
    Wow. He wasn't looking so good. His eyes were puffy and red from crying. Good thing that Amber couldn't see him like this. He swallowed hard and returned to the bedroom. This time he simply sat on the edge of the bed, unwilling to let himself just lie down and wallow in self pity.
    The same driver who had driven Amber home had taken Hunter to his parent's house. A few questions had revealed why Amber had been so slow returning to the hotel room. Part of Hunter's mind just couldn't believe that she had stopped for over half an hour at the art studio. And on impulse at that! She had even eaten a croissant, the driver had helpfully explained. All while he had been cooling his heels, terrified that she might not come back at all. That look on her face in the elevator had been so cold and angry.
    While Amber was enjoying her croissant and the studio, he had sat frozen on the sofa, too sick to his stomach to even consider eating. All he could think about was how Amber might leave him. When she walked in the door and purposely threw her keys on the counter, he was almost hopeful. Her bright, fresh anger would blow over eventually.
    But when she softened, gently putting the keys away appropriately, he knew she had gone past anger to something even worse. Still, he had to admit he was not fully surprised. Wasn't that why he had packed a bag while waiting for her to return? Face it, Hunter, he told himself. You knew where this was going.
    Getting up again, he foraged in the side table for a marker. When he didn't find anything, he slipped into the living room. There was only a single lamp shining in the front room, meaning that his parents had already gone to their room. Hunter knew that they were likely still awake, both reading.
    His father probably had a legal thriller by his bedside. His