Read Between These Walls for Free Online Page A

that she wasn’t psychotic and he could trust her with a key.
    Hunter kissed her good-bye. She walked out the door and, sure enough, locked it behind her. That made Hunter snicker. Yeah, she was cute, indeed.

CHAPTER 3
    A roar erupted as the Cleveland Indians scored their first run at the bottom of the third inning.
    Hunter kept his eye on the television as the batter crossed first base and continued around the diamond until the third-base coach signaled for him to stop running at second.
    Ten high-definition televisions hung throughout the bar and grill. On Sunday afternoons, they displayed different football games. But tonight, all eyes focused on the Indians.
    Kara reached for Hunter’s hand beneath the table. She intertwined her fingers with his and gave them a quick squeeze. He responded in kind. While he enjoyed giving affection to women and receiving it in return, the women in his life initiated contact more often.
    “I can appreciate a run as much as the next guy.” With a swish of her head, Ellen Krieger sent her brunette hair behind her shoulders. “But you’d think word hadn’t gotten around that the Indians’ post-season hopes have vanished. Why didn’t they try this hard in July?”
    “You don’t just give up, Ellen.” Hunter winked, his voice raised so she could hear him over the voices from surrounding tables. “If you’re gonna go down, you go down fighting. That’s what guys do. We never go down without a fight.”
    “That was a surprising remark of resignation from you, Ellen,” her fiancé, thirty-year-old Brendan Pieper, chimed in. “Do you go down without a fight when you want me to put glasses in their proper row in your dishwasher?”
    A broad smile swept across Ellen’s face as she gave Brendan a playful slug to the arm. “Proper row in the dishwasher, my ass! If I could get you not to leave them in the sink, I’d call it a miracle.”
    With a snicker to reveal he understood Ellen’s comment but would admit nothing, he pulled her into him with one arm and kissed her forehead. When they parted, he straightened his eyeglasses.
    Ellen and Brendan’s relationship struck Hunter as natural, as if they fused together without effort. Hunter knew they’d had their share of arguments—with her blunt personality, Ellen had a way of locating people’s farthest boundaries. But as far as Hunter could tell, neither Ellen nor Brendan doubted the strength of their relationship.
    How satisfying to find love and not be looking around, Hunter mused, not fearful you’re missing out on something better, not wishing for something different.
    Hunter picked up a trace of cigarette smoke from a table across the room. Between the Saturday-night crowd and the televisions, the restaurant was loud, but the noise didn’t prevent Hunter and his companions from hearing each other if they leaned into the square table to talk.
    “I always liked the Indians’ mascot as a kid, even before I lived here,” Kara said, her eyes on the game. “Didn’t he look like a Saturday-morning cartoon to you?”
    “I think that’s the biggest reason Hunter wore his Cleveland baseball cap every day as a kid,” Ellen jibed. “For the picture.”
    How does she know these things? Hunter wouldn’t give Ellen any satisfaction, though. His competitive spirit wouldn’t allow it. “Yeah, right. And I suppose your avoidance of Phillies gear has nothing to do with the fact it’s not your home team. You just don’t like that cursive P on the front.”
    “Touché.” Ellen clinked beer bottles with Hunter, who sat toward her left. She followed up with a long pull from the bottle.
    The server arrived with two dozen chicken wings in two round baskets. From one basket, Hunter could smell the sweet, sticky tang of Jamaican jerk sauce that covered the wings, but he reached for the basket that contained the crispy buffalo wings instead. He whispered a quick prayer to thank God for the meal, then took a bite. As he breathed in,