Can't Say Love: A Hunter Hayes Fanfic (Completed)

Chapter 37

♪ If you're gonna be somebody's heart- ♪

"Hello?" he gave me a questioning look, but all I could do was smile.

"Hey, kiddo, where are you?" It was Carrie and she sounded panicked. Crap. I forgot to tell her.

"I hitched a ride with Hunter and the guys. Sorry, I forgot to tell you." I could hear her sigh loudly in relief.

"I got worried when you ran off with Hunter. Did he hurt you?" I looked at him, knowing my volume was loud enough for the entire car to hear. He tilted his head down guiltily, obviously feeling bad for making my back look like a zebra with red stripes, yet I couldn't thank him enough.

"Haha, no he didn't, don't worry. I'm in good hands," I spoke the truth.

Sam pulled into the drive way only seconds after I hung up. Hunter and I stepped out of the car and say our good byes.

- - - - - - - - - - -

"Your room is red?" Hunter asked after we made our way upstairs.

"I hate it. Its too pink." And it was. It was that dreadful color between red and pink. Just awful.

"Yeah, you don't strike me as a pink girl," he smiled a little.

"What do I strike you as?" I started to get interested.

His vice suddenly got a lot softer, "Keira...," he said, almost whispering.

"Yeah? You okay?" I spoke normally.

"Where... Where did you get these?" he stuttered, staring at the pictures on my wall, seeming not quite sure that he wanted the answer.

"My brother had them... What's  wrong?" I tested, seeing what he knew, and what he would tell me.

He hesitated for a moment, "Nothing... Want help?"

"Ugh... yeah," I showed him to the bathroom. He grabbed a wash cloth and dampened it with warm water and soap.

"This might hurt a little," he spoke carefully, and I braced myself for whatever pain was about to come. He softly tugged my shirt, revealing the marks that the hard concrete had made. Hunter put his warm, and rather large, hand on my shoulder, holding it in place so I don't squirm. The warm water on my scrapes felt nice, as he lightly cleaned the dried blood off my back.

"I'm sorry I caused this," he whispered, almost to himself.

I laughed slightly, "Don't be. Now, do you mind telling-" he moved to look in my eyes, and I could tell he didn't  want to talk about the pictures at the moment.

"Hmm?"

This time, it was my turn to hesitate, "Nothing... Never mind." There were still a lot of unanswered questions. Who is the boy in the photographs? Was it really Hunter? Why don't I remember? When was he going to talk to me? When was I going to talk to him?

There was a time to ask questions, a time to listen, and a time to put your future in God's hands. I would ask Hunter about the pictures when the time was right. When he - and I - were ready for it. That time, well, it might be a long time from now. It could be tomorrow. I will find out, eventually. I was always a firm believer in fate and in destiny. This will all play its self out when the time is right.

With a little help from me.