The Hunter

by Shen, L. J.

  All I heard was a sniff on the other line, and then, “On my way.”

  Later that night, the gossip sites added a convoluted story to the pictures of me storming out of the club and Hunter chasing me half-naked. As I suspected, the headlines ranged from “Hunk Dumps Archer Sailor Brennan for Bombshell Lana Alder” to “Billionaire’s Son (yes, the one with the sex tape!) Caught Cheating on Olympic Hottie.”

  There was even one story claiming an insider insisted Hunter and I were in an arranged relationship to keep him out of trouble. I had no doubt who’d orchestrated the entire thing: Lana. The minute she found out I lived with him, she went after him and put this entire nightmare in motion. The only thing I still couldn’t figure out was how she found out who I lived with. Who gave her the info?

  “I mean, they did call you a hottie.” Emmabelle passed me a tub of ice cream, snatching the phone from my hand so I couldn’t read more speculations about my relationship with Hunter. Belle, Persy, and Aisling were all perched in my childhood bedroom on my old bed, which my parents had dragged back from storage when news of Hunter and Lana started making the rounds. Mom floated in and out of my room periodically, offering milkshakes, cookies, and ice cream. Not only was I heartbroken, but now I would likely die prematurely of type two diabetes.

  “They also referred to you as an Olympic athlete,” Aisling pointed out sheepishly, munching on her lower lip.

  It was probably weird for her to be here, being the sister of the offender, but she kept a straight face and didn’t try to defend him.

  “So, are you going to tell us Hunter’s charges?” Emmabelle poked my ribs. “Are we talking breaking the contract and screwing you over with his dad, which is infuriating, albeit redeemable, or is it…more?”

  I was washed with sympathetic gazes. Although my friends had practically witnessed my fooling around with Hunter, I’d never confirmed my relationship with him, and they’d never pushed.

  Feeling my throat working, I began to pick invisible lint from the blanket on top of my crossed legs. I felt guilty for not confiding in them sooner. I never kept anything from my friends.

  “Are you asking if we were together?” I cleared my throat.

  The tub of ice cream was transferred into Persy’s hand when Belle realized I wasn’t going to eat any.

  “We’re asking if you’re in love,” Persy said gently, squeezing my thigh.

  “And byproduct, if we need to go there and kick his ass.” Emmabelle flexed her nonexistent bicep. “Don’t worry, Aisling. You’re excused from the task.”

  “Oh, I’ll be the one aiming straight for his genitals to show where my loyalty lies.” Aisling’s eyes flared.

  We all burst out in laughter. Even me.

  Aisling shook her head and patted my leg. “I will never forget the day you brought me into your circle.”

  “I know, but blood is thicker than water,” I croaked.

  “That may be, but loyalty is thicker than blood,” Aisling replied. “We’re a team now. A pack. The Boston Belles.”

  The room fell silent. The new nickname rolled nicely off her tongue. It rang true and sweet. I smiled again, mainly to make my friends feel like they were getting somewhere with their attempts to console me.

  “So?” Emmabelle turned the conversation back to me. “Are you in love with the well-endowed sex-tape prince?”

  It was so like her to find his sex tape and watch it on repeat.

  “Yeah,” I answered quietly, surprising even myself. “God, I am. Crap.”

  “Crap,” they echoed in unison.

  “Indeed,” Belle added helpfully.

  She covered me with her body, draping over me like a second blanket. Persy hugged me from one side, the ice cream tub still in her hand, freezing the back of my head, and Aisling climbed the bed and hugged me from the other side. My friends engulfed me from all directions.

  I felt loved. So loved, I couldn’t help but wonder how the man I hated so much right now was doing.

  Hunter didn’t have friends here.

  No support group.

  Good, I thought. Let him rot in hell and feel the weight of the consequences of his actions.

  The morning after, I paid a visit to Gerald Fitzpatrick at his home office. It was buttcrack o’clock, but I wanted to get it out of the way before I started training. Also, coming into his office and risking facing Hunter was my idea of hell.

  Dad had picked up my car and belongings from Hunter’s apartment the night before. I didn’t ask him if he saw my ex-roommate, but he mentioned Hunter had tried calling me several times. Several was ninety-six, to be exact, including some text messages trying to coax me to listen to him. At some point Hunter had texted that he was outside my parents’ building. He’d waited there for four hours by the time stamp of his text messages.

  I blocked his number after that.

  “I suppose you’re here to apologize for your colossal failure,” Mr. Fitzpatrick sneered behind his dark oak desk. His office consisted of a wall-to-ceiling, back-to-back library full to the brim with books, a desk, three chairs, and a minibar. Expensive paintings by Picasso and Modigliani hung on the very little space that wasn’t occupied with books. The tax on those things alone could buy six houses here in the city.

  “Not exactly,” I said, keeping my back straight, my demeanor calm. I was still standing, as I hadn’t been invited to sit down. Just as well. I wanted to make it short and not so sweet.

  “Are you denying that my son slept with the Alder girl?” Gerald raised a thick, bushy eyebrow, his index finger covering the length of his twisted mouth.

  “I didn’t catch them having sex.” I popped one shoulder up.

  “So you’re defending him yet again?” His eyes widened.

  I shook my head, meeting his eyes. “No. But I can’t condemn him for what I don’t know for a fact. But I do know I slept with him. I don’t want this on my conscience. This is why I’m here today, to tell you I betrayed your confidence, broke the terms of our deal, and won’t be going through with the last month of our agreement. Please send me the invoice for the money you’ve invested in my career so I can repay you.”

  I stepped forward, sliding him a sheet with my information. My fingers shook around it. “For what it’s worth, I know Hunter hasn’t been with anyone other than myself and perhaps Lana Alder during those months, and he was always sober. He’s put a lot of effort into work and college, gave it his best shot.”

  I left out his late nights working on the Syllie Project, as we’d called it. It wasn’t my tale to tell.

  Gerald leaned forward, ignoring the document I’d placed between us. “Are you implying he deserves the inheritance?” He scowled, each word spat like it was profanity.

  My throat bobbed with a swallow. I could mess it up for Hunter. And a part of me—not a small part, I had to admit—wanted to do just that. Because my heart was in pieces. Ever since yesterday, I hadn’t felt like my lungs were full, no matter how much I tried breathing. It felt like something had been ripped from my chest, and the hollowness had spread to the rest of me like a disease.

  But ruining it for Hunter was also ruining it for me.

  I didn’t want the responsibility of tarnishing his life, even if he’d shattered mine.

  “I think he definitely deserves to be a part of the family business, and to have his piece of the inheritance,” I answered evenly. “He is a changed man, despite his mishap.”

  Every word felt like a sword in my mouth.

  “And you are willing to pay for your PR campaign? Cover all costs?” he stressed, his face unreadable.

  Was he accepting my offer to pay for everything, or was he going to secretly sue me for everything I had?

  “Yeah.” I licked my lips, resisting the urge to nibble at my thumb. “I’ll pay for everything. I might need to have a monthly plan—I won’t take the money from my parents—but I will. I promise.”

  He stared at me harshly. “Leave.”

  I looked arou
nd us. The room was quiet and empty and cold, like its owner.

  “That’s it?”

  “Yes. Get the hell out of my office.”

  “Sir, I—”

  “Out. Before I change my mind and make it much worse for both of you.”

  I turned around and marched to the door, halting when I reached the threshold. Something, maybe my dignity, willed me to chance one more look at him.

  “I really am sorry,” I whispered. “And I know he is, too. If Hunter could be anything in the world, it would be your son. Your real son.”

  His head was bowed. If he heard me, I couldn’t tell. His shoulders trembled, just for a second.

  Crying? Laughing? Shaking his head?

  One thing was for sure: Gerald Fitzpatrick didn’t fully hate his bastard son, whether he admitted it or not.

  My reputation was in the mud.

  I knew that as soon as I got to the archery club. A few reporters milled around the door, flicking cigarette butts and talking among themselves. I shouldered past before their cameras could aim at me like weapons. Junsu was quick to open the door from the inside, jerk me in, and slam it in their faces.

  He ushered me to his office, his hand on my back. “The boy ruined everything, just like I thought,” he muttered, his hair a mess, eyes swollen from lack of sleep. “People say you in no mental state to win the competition against Lana to determine which one goes to Olympics.”

  “That’s nonsense,” I huffed. I caught up to his steps, but he was moving like a storm, demon-quick and aiming for destruction. “Hunter has nothing to do with the competition. I’m ready.”

  But was I really? I felt like I was floating on a cloud parallel to my own life. I didn’t know what I wanted anymore, what I was capable of.

  He stopped in front of his office, squeezing both my arms in a rare fatherly gesture.

  “I don’t want it to break you.” He clasped me harder, his eyes begging me for something I couldn’t understand.

  “It won’t.” I wiggled free of his touch, red anger rising within me.

  “You’ve waited too long for this,” he said slowly. “What if you collapse in the range?”

  “I will not.” I gritted my teeth, pushing the door to his office open and walking in. He followed me, closing the door behind us. I took a seat. I noticed the piggy bank was gone. Maybe Hunter and Lana had to break it to buy condoms. He’d certainly run through a few boxes with me.

  Are they together now? When it doesn’t matter anyway? When his father knows and I’m out of the picture? Probably.

  “So why did you want to see me yesterday?” I slapped my thigh hard to break myself loose of the memory of Lana sitting on top of Hunter. It was all I could think about. I couldn’t sleep, eat, or function—just play that moment on repeat.

  Junsu pinched his temple from his spot by the door, then shook his head, realizing I’d asked him a question. “What?”

  What was wrong with him?

  “I asked why you wanted to see me straight after I landed yesterday. Why you asked me to come to your office,” I repeated slowly.

  “Oh. Because I had time to train Lana those days you were gone. She very good, Sailor. I worry for your chances.”

  I smiled tightly. Junsu had kind of sucked at the whole-mental preparation part recently. It felt like no one around me wanted me in the Olympics. Everybody thought I’d sacrificed my life for the cause. This was the last straw.

  “I’m good too. I’ll be fine.”

  “A trial with a selection panel will be here the day after tomorrow.” He dropped the mother of all bombs at my feet, letting it detonate in my face. I knew it was going to happen sometime soon, but in two days?

  The other two members of the Olympic team had won their spots based on their national rankings. Lana and I were competing for the individual spot on the team. The selection panel would be the deciding factor between us.

  “When did you learn about this?” I shot to my feet.

  “Over the weekend.” He fingered a bow that hung on his wall, the bow he had used when he won the gold medal all those years ago.

  I thought about the word. Bow. I didn’t want to bow to anyone. This was why I’d mastered the instrument in the first place.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “You were busy in photoshoot,” he accused, letting the last word twist out of his mouth like it was made of nails and broken glass.

  I wanted to scream in his face, grab his shoulders, shake him, and throw the responsibility for this mess at his door. How dare he keep this from me? I’d have stayed and practiced more had I known.

  “Try next Olympics,” Junsu said softly, his voice below a whisper. His entire face crinkled, like a ball of tissue left in someone’s coat pocket the entire winter. “Five years, Sailor. You still so young.”

  Oh, but my soul, I wanted to reply. It’d seen so many things. It was so old, so well worn and practiced in disappointment.

  I stormed past him, my shoulder brushing his on my way out. I was a huntress, made for big, glorious things. A sailor crossing oceans, conquering foreign seas.

  I was going to meet Lana and see our battle through, even if it brought me to Hades.

  And if I failed, at least I’d know I tried. Fought. At least I’d know I was a Brennan.

  The morning before the day of my face-off with Lana, Mom woke me up the way she had when I was a kid.

  She brushed my hair away from my face, her fingers cold against my hot cheeks.

  She kissed my temple, whispering into my ear, “I called you Sailor because I wanted you to see the world, to visit continents, to cross oceans and seas. In ancient times, sailors used to tattoo sparrows on their skin before leaving the docks. It brought them luck, you see. And since my name is Sparrow, I want to bring you luck. I want you to carry me everywhere in spirit. I’ll be there for you always. Only I think I failed, my brave girl. I think I failed you miserably. I hope he succeeds. I hope he knows you are so much more than beautiful. You are real.”

  I blinked away the sleep, letting my eyes flutter open. The room was still dark and cold, foreign to me despite the many years I’d occupied it. It didn’t smell of Hunter and the food we’d ordered and our sweaty bodies swallowing each other up.

  “He?” I croaked.

  I’d given my parents direct orders not to let Hunter in. Mom stood. I felt the dip of the mattress rising with her.

  “Look at your nightstand.” She brushed her fingertips against my forehead, leaving my room.

  I sat up straight, rubbing the sleep off of my eyes. Sure enough, Hunter’s wooden horse necklace that brought him luck was waiting for me there—the same horse he’d believed prevented him from falling.

  A rush of warmth passed through my chest. If nothing else, it was nice to know that despite sampling both of us, Hunter had the good manners to cheer on his main piece and not Lana. A note floated down from the nightstand. I picked it up.

  If you want it, it is yours.

  To keep. To use. To burn.

  With this, you’ll never fall.

  —Hunt

  I smiled bitterly, allowing a tear to slide down my cheek.

  “Silly boy,” I whispered. “I already have.”

  The days after the tabloids exploded with pictures of me half-naked (six pack intact), I skipped work, opting to chase after Sailor to apologize for what hadn’t happened with Lana.

  I mean, technically, I did go into the office, but only in the middle of the night, and only to get my hands on all the refinery documents in Syllie’s possession. The only way to access the management floor was with Cillian’s or Da’s electronic fingerprint scan. I used a gel lifter I bought from Knox to duplicate Da’s fingerprints, knowing the CCTV camera was watching me as I broke into my own company’s office. I made sure I smiled and flipped it the bird before strolling in. The pile of illegal things I was doing grew by the nanosecond, but it was too late to chicken out.

  I wanted to explain to Sailor
that the reason I was in the archery club in the first place had nothing to do with Lana What’s-Her-Rack. But I knew what she saw, and even I had to admit, it looked fucking bad. And after a while, I realized she wasn’t going to listen anyway.

  So instead of crawling on my knees, continuing to beg for the forgiveness I knew she wouldn’t grant, I decided to give her something else, something she’d appreciate far more.

  Which meant here I was in the archery club again, fucking lame stalker that I was.

  I hadn’t slept a wink the past three nights, not since Sailor dumped me for good. I had been listening to recordings until my ears rang. I looked like a hot pile of baked shit as I loitered outside the archery club, waiting for her to get out of practice.

  When she did, I blocked her way like a deranged ninja, jumping between two cars.

  Forget the knight in shining armor. I’m the dipshit in tin foil.

  “Jesus Christ!” she hissed, throwing her duffel bag at me instinctively. I caught it and tossed it aside, pulling her by the arm.

  Song of the day: “Creep” by Radiohead.

  “I thought I told you to leave me alone.” She drew back in the opposite direction, not missing a chance to try to scratch me with her nails.

  God, I missed her.

  “I will, but not before you listen to this.” I took my phone out of my pocket and shoved one of my AirPods into my ear and the other into hers, scrolling my thumb on my touch screen to find what I was looking for.

  “Gross. I don’t need your earwax in my system.”

  “I put worse things in you, and you didn’t seem all that disgusted.” I bared my teeth tauntingly.

  She was about to take the AirPod out and throw it in my face, but I grabbed her hand, kissing her palm again, as I did when she tried to hurt me (which, let’s admit it, was frequently).

  She shot me an angry look that said it better be worth it.

  I wanted to kiss her little freckled nose, and I hated myself for losing the privilege to do so because of some stupid misunderstanding.