As Katie takes his hand, Hunter lets his fingers toy with hers absentmindedly. Her words struck a different kind of chord. What weight? What did he need to let go of? And what did it have to do with any of this?
Deep down, he knew. Deep down the truth was that he'd been in this battle for a long time - the battle between who he was and who he was pretending to be. Open wounds and healing. Right and wrong. Yet he didn't want to look at those things. It set an odd churn to his stomach and he'd decided long ago that thinking about any of it was pointless.
The thought of hurting himself brings to mind why he'd come here in the first place - an accident caused by his recklessness. He'd been guilt-ridden and sick of his own foolishness. Yet what had he done last night? Was it not just as foolish? So what did that say about him?
Straightening up, he leans his head back against the tree and closes his eyes, his thumb still running over Katie's fingers. Why things had suddenly gotten so difficult, he didn't know. He was exhausted, stressed and just wanted it to stop. One thing was for sure though - he was no more relaxed here now than he had been back in Nevada.
"I'll be fine," he eventually responds to Katie. She didn't want to lose him, but his options were dwindling and there was one thought from earlier that was still embedded in his mind - and it seemed the only solution.
Sighing, his body tries to relax. "Don't let me fall asleep," he mumbles.
Alec smirks a little before biting into his sub. Him keeping his opinion to himself probably was something Misty needn't worry about. Maybe he had a big mouth. But at least he knew Misty wouldn't get mad at him for speaking his mind.
"This is pretty good," he admits, surveying his sub. "I think I'm finally starting to taste more things again."
All of the tables and chairs were stacked in the middle of Mom and Pop's. A sign on the locked door read, "Closed. Reopening Soon." It shouldn't take more than a week. At least that's what Carson hoped. However, when he'd originally made plans, he didn't think he'd be doing this alone.
Sitting on the floor in his old jeans and t-shirt, he focuses on using the small paintbrush around the trim. The wall that had been white was being transformed to a brick red, while he had plans for the opposite wall to be a more gold color. The trim was going to go from brown to white... if Carson could keep his hand steady enough, that is.
Wiping some sweat from his brow, Carson relaxes, having reached the corner of the wall. Now was time to get out the pan and roller and fill in the rest of the wall. Somehow though, his motivation was waning already. After starting two hours ago, he was already tired.
Remaining on the floor, he leans back against the window and studies the room. Coming to work here and living in the back room because he could afford nothing else seemed a lifetime ago. How Herb had taken him under his wing... how the people here had been so supportive and encouraging when he'd been trying to make his life right. He'd messed up a lot too. Memories of Ashlyn flash through his mind. He'd really really messed up on that one. Then there had been Jess... they'd helped each other through their rough spots, for sure.
Carson's eyes continue to roam. He'd never dreamed he'd be handed over the restaurant. It was such an honor to know that he was caring for Herb's pride and joy, while at the same time, there were days he couldn't believe he was stuck in something like this without the thrill and freedom of the Elite every day. And yet... perhaps he needed to start thinking of himself as a business owner and operator instead of just a cook. He stayed in the kitchen because people liked his food. He'd never ever even toyed with the idea of cooking, and did not feel that he was talented in the least. But apparently he did something right, and he'd certainly learned a lot since working here. He could whip up some pretty mean recipes and it wasn't so unusual that on days off he'd cook for Misty at home... or he... used to.
Sighing, the scent of fresh paint is almost overwhelming, and Carson pulls himself to his feet. At least if he kept his hands busy with redecorating, his mind couldn't wander so much.
After turning up the rock music on the radio, he grabs a pan and pours in some red paint before wetting the roller. Goodbye white wall. Next, he'd have to figure out what kinds of decorations he'd want on the wall. Kitchen paraphernalia? Paintings? Photos? A thought strikes him and he pauses in his work. Maybe... yes, he'd make a mental note of that one. Might be hard getting anybody to help him, but it was worth a try.
