Chapter 9 Hunter and Tara

When Worlds Collide

Tara pov

I balanced the stack of returned books against my hip as I pushed through the glass doors of the Silver Creek Public Library, breathing in the crisp evening air. My shift had run late—Mrs. Patterson had needed help reorganizing the children's section after a particularly enthusiastic story time—but I didn't mind. The library had become my sanctuary, a place where I could lose myself in other people's stories and forget, for a few hours, the chapters of my own life I would rather not remember.

The sun was setting behind the mountains that ringed their small Nevada town, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink that reminded me of autumn evenings back home. Back in Silverstone. I shook my head, dismissing the thought. This was home now. Had been for four months.

I was halfway across the street, heading toward Murphy's Garage and the narrow stairs that led to our apartment, when I saw him.

Hunter Blackwood stood beside a dusty black SUV parked outside Rosie's Diner, his back to me as he spoke with someone I couldn't see clearly. But I would have recognized that silhouette anywhere—the broad shoulders, the way he held his head, the confident stance that came from a lifetime of knowing he was born to lead.

The stack of books slipped from my numb fingers, hitting the asphalt with a series of dull thuds that seemed impossibly loud in the quiet evening air. I watched them fall as if from a great distance, her mind struggling to process what my eyes were telling me.

*He found us. He found me.*

Four months of carefully constructed peace, of slowly rebuilding my sense of self, of learning to breathe without the constant ache of loss—all of it crumbled in an instant. I was eighteen again, standing in the pack clearing while Hunter's voice cut through me like a blade: "You are not strong enough, not worthy enough, to stand beside me."

The sound of the falling books must have caught his attention because Hunter turned, his gray eyes scanning the street until they found me. For a moment that felt like eternity, we stared at each other across thirty feet of cracked pavement, two people who had once been destined for each other now separated by an ocean of hurt and regret.

His face was thinner than I remembered, marked by exhaustion and something that might have been desperation. A fresh cut marred his lower lip, and there was a bruise forming along his jaw. He looked like a man who had been fighting battles—and losing them.

"Tara." My name escaped his lips in a whisper that carried clearly in the still air, and hearing it spoken in his voice—the voice that had haunted my dreams and nightmares in equal measure—was like being struck by lightning.

The world tilted sideways.

Darkness rushed in from the edges of my vision, and the last thing I saw before unconsciousness claimed me was Hunter's expression transforming from hope to horror as I collapsed onto the street.

---

"Tara! *Tara!*"

The voices seemed to come from very far away, pulling me up from the black depths of oblivion. I became aware of several things simultaneously: the hard asphalt beneath my back, the gathering crowd of concerned faces above me, and the scent of pine and leather that meant Hunter was close. Too close.

"Don't touch her!" My father's voice, sharp with protective fury. "Haven't you done enough?"

"She hit her head when she fell," Hunter's voice, tight with barely controlled panic. "We need to get her to a doctor."

"*We* don't need to do anything. You need to get the hell away from my daughter."

I tried to speak, to tell them I was okay, but my voice wouldn't cooperate. My head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and there was a dull ache spreading from the back of my skull where it had connected with the pavement.

"Can you hear me, honey?" A woman's voice, unfamiliar but kind. Mrs. Chen from the flower shop, I realized dimly. "You took quite a spill there."

"I'm... I'm okay," I managed, though the words came out slurred and uncertain. I tried to sit up, and immediately regretted it as the world spun violently around me.

"Easy there." Strong hands helped me into a sitting position, and I found myself looking into my father's worried face. Behind him, I could see Hunter hovering at the edge of the crowd, his face pale with concern and something that looked like guilt.

"Dad?" My voice sounded young and lost, even to my own ears.

"I'm here, baby girl. You're going to be fine." Dad's hands were gentle as he checked the back of my head for injury, his movements practiced from years of dealing with training injuries in the pack. "Small bump, no blood. But we should probably have Doc Miller take a look anyway."

"No," I said quickly, the thought of medical attention making my stomach churn. "No doctors. I just... I need to go home."

"Tara, you lost consciousness for almost two minutes," Hunter said, his voice cutting through the murmur of concerned townspeople. "You could have a concussion."

The sound of his voice speaking my name with such intimate concern made me feel sick all over again. I turned to look at him properly for the first time, taking in the bruises on his face that looked suspiciously like they'd been put there by my father's fists.

"What are you doing here?" The question came out as barely a whisper, but in the relative quiet of the gathered crowd, it carried clearly.

Hunter's gray eyes met mine, and I saw a flash of the boy I had once imagined myself in love with beneath the exhausted exterior of the man who had destroyed my world.

"I came to find you," he said simply.

"Why?" The single word carried four months of pain, confusion, and carefully suppressed hope.

"Because I made a mistake. The biggest mistake of my life." Hunter took a step closer, ignoring James's warning growl. "Because I need you to know that rejecting you had nothing to do with your worth and everything to do with my own cowardice."

"Stop." I pressed my hands to my temples, trying to ward off the headache that was building behind my eyes. "Just... stop talking."

"Tara—"

"I said stop!" The words came out sharper than I had intended, sharp enough to make several of the gathered townspeople take uncomfortable steps backward. "You don't get to do this. You don't get to show up here and... and..."

My voice broke, and I realized with horror that tears were streaming down my face. In front of all these people, in front of Hunter, I was falling apart just like I had four months ago.

"Okay, show's over," James announced firmly, addressing the crowd. "Thank you all for your concern, but my daughter needs some privacy."

The townspeople began to disperse reluctantly, casting curious glances between me and the stranger who had somehow caused such a dramatic reaction. Mrs. Chen pressed a bottle of water into James's hands with a murmured "Call if you need anything," and within a few minutes, they were alone on the street.

Well, not alone. Hunter remained, standing a careful distance away but clearly unwilling to leave.

"You need to go," James said, his voice deadly quiet. "Now."

"I know this is hard for her," Hunter replied, his eyes never leaving my face. "But I can't leave. Not yet."

"She collapsed at the sight of you," James snarled. "She literally couldn't handle being in the same space as you. What part of that makes you think your presence here is a good idea?"

"Dad." My voice was steady now, though I still felt shaky inside. "It's okay."

"It's not okay. None of this is okay."

"No," I agreed, pushing myself to my feet with careful movements. "It's not. But he's here now, and pretending he isn't won't make him go away."

I looked directly at Hunter for the first time since regaining consciousness, steeling myself against the impact of those gray eyes that had once looked at me with such promise.

"You want to talk?" I said. "Fine. We'll talk. But not here, not in the middle of the street where everyone can watch me fall apart again."

"Tara, you don't have to—" James started.

"Yes, I do." I wiped my face with the back of my hand, trying to regain some dignity. "I've been running from this conversation for four months. Maybe it's time to have it."

Hunter's expression shifted from desperate hope to something more complex—relief mixed with apprehension, as if he'd gotten what he wanted but wasn't sure he was prepared for the consequences.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

"Don't thank me yet," I replied, my voice harder than I felt. "You might not like what I have to say."

I turned toward the garage, my legs still unsteady but my resolve growing stronger with each step. Behind me, I could hear my father and Hunter following, the tension between them so thick it was almost visible.

Four months ago, I had run from this confrontation. Four months ago, I had been too broken, too raw, too overwhelmed by my own pain to face the man who had caused it.

But I wasn't that girl anymore. I was stronger now, more sure of myself, more aware of my own worth.

If Hunter Blackwood wanted to explain himself, I would listen. But I would do it on my own terms, in my own time, and with the full knowledge that whatever he had to say couldn't undo the damage that had already been done.

Some things, once broken, could never be fully repaired.

The question was whether what remained was worth trying to rebuild.