Hunter (The Fractured Fairytale Series)

by J. A. Wynters

  I plough my way through the parking area and make my way to the back entrance. I know it’s not where I’m meant to come in but old habits die hard and I don’t give a shit. I just want to get inside so I can breathe and get away from this rain.

  The usual die-hard groupies that hope to be allowed inside huddle like a bunch of soaked penguins. The rain lashes at them but they are tragic desperados. I never did get their obsession of wanting to rub shoulders with these guys. Maybe they think some of their shine will rub off. What they don't realise is that more often than not, it’s just a bunch of shit tinted in gold and glitter.

  The security guard gives me a sideways glance. He’s young and fresh but he knows who I am. Everyone knows who I am. He checks my ticket and I step a little closer using my size to remind him where he ranks in the ladder. I’m broader, taller and I know my face mimics my insides—tense, angry, and impatient. He steps aside, letting me in.

  The long white corridor leads to the backstage area. Awareness sheets my skin and chaos blooms in my chest. I know she’s here somewhere, but I don't want to confront her before the show. I find a place in the shadows where I have a perfect vantage point to the stage but can’t be seen.

  The place is full, it's churning with fans. Most are here to see Daryl, at least that’s what they think. They scream and clap and cheer. Their excitement fuels my impatience. Where the fuck is she?

  The lights on the stage fade till darkness settles and the crowd loses it. The roar makes my bones vibrate and the walls shake with their voices. When I spot her, my heart stutters, and I suck in a sharp breath. She’s wearing worn, faded jeans that mould to her perfect legs and are torn at the knees and upper thighs. Her black singlet rides up a little, revealing a slither of her perfectly flat stomach. My own churns and questions—which I’ve had for so long—slam inside me demanding answers. A black choker wraps around her delicate neck and my eyes keep getting drawn to it, missing all the places I once kissed and bit and licked. Her smokey eyes look out onto the crowd and her mouth stretches in a beautiful smile. My body ignites, an inferno of want fueled by confusion. A lethal combination.

  The first notes of her song resonate through the arena and the crowd cheers like wild animals. Her voice carries across the human mass spread below her, and they answer her—word for word they sing her song and fill the arena with her music. The melody is as haunting as the lyrics and watching her wrench each word from her mouth, I’m surer than ever she wrote it for me. I can feel the agony she feels. It’s written in the way her body moves and the way her voice stutters just beneath the surface, and I bet if I get any closer, her eyes would be glistening with unshed tears because she feels each syllable and note like a dagger. It all resonates inside her because she believes—she believes her love is unrequited.

  And why wouldn’t she? I’ve never given her a reason to think otherwise.

  The song draws to an end and my heart is a twisted, crumpled mess as the crowd erupts into another burst of clapping. She's broken and elated, and it takes everything inside of me not to run onto that stage and pull her into my arms, not to confess everything. I will. Later. First, she gets to have her moment. She gets to make her dream come true. To be Emilia Stark and not Emilia Legend. She’s built her own empire by climbing over everyone else’s shit. A burst of heat moves through my chest as I watch her own her dreams.

  Sweat covers her face and a droplet rolls down her back, but she’s all smiles as she leaves the stage. The crowd is a monster of sound, clapping and chanting her name. I can’t blame them. She is a goddess, and like them, I’m here to worship her.

  I step out of my hiding place. Wolf who's been standing with his arm around my sister on the wing, spots me and falls in just behind. Maybe he senses the chaos I’m about to unleash. He’s good like that, Wolf. I know no matter what he always has my back.

  I’m right behind her group. They all talk in rushed sentences, too loud and too animated. Adrenaline still coursing through them. She’s giddy, laughing with her guitarist. He has a hand around her shoulder as they walk through the corridor, and I make a mental note to break every bone in his hand. Later.

  “Emily,” I call for her and she swivels around. Her eyes grow wide and her mouth falls slightly open, the beautiful smile vanishes. I guess I’m back to having that effect on her. Her brow furrows and then without a word she turns back around and keeps walking down the corridor.

  “Emily,” I say again, picking up speed.

  “Go away,” she calls over her shoulder and doesn’t stop. She’s approaching a crowd. Three security guards stand at the door holding them back. They’re calling her name and holding up posters and t-shirts for her to sign. They probably won some kind of competition to get to spend some time with her after the concert.

  I’m about to disappoint a whole bunch of people. Lucky I don’t give a shit.

  “We need to talk,” I call over her bandmates, who all slow down and start looking between me and her.

  “No, we don't.” She still won't stop.

  “Who is this guy?” The guitarist asks her as his hand closes around her again.

  Brave.

  I’ll give him that. Also incredibly stupid.

  “No one,” she says as she closes the distance to the crowd. Once she reaches them. It’ll be more difficult.

  No one?

  I bulldoze through her band members ignoring their calls of "hey" and "what the hell?" and grab her elbow. The three burly security guys turn to look at me as I start pulling her away. I need her calm enough so we can get through the crowd without incident.

  Emily is talking to me today. Now! Whether she wants to or not. I deserve answers and she needs to know… everything.

  “Let go of me,” she calls out, and all eyes in the room fall on my hand locked on her elbow. In a second the band members dash out of the way, all except the guitarist. The three security guys make a move towards us. They’re a little smaller than me, definitely younger which means they lack experience. But I have one thing that those guys never will. A Wolf.

  Emily’s eyes grow wide, and I can see in the mirror behind her Wolf has his hand on her guitarist, explaining that if he ever wanted to play again, he best walk away.

  He steps in front of me and blocks the advancing security team. “Go. I’ll sort out these guys.” He’s already got a plan and I see them hesitate. I know there’s no chance anyone will stop us now.

  I pull her along as she struggles and screams and tries to pull out of my grip. “If you don't stop fighting, I’m going to throw you over my shoulder and carry you out of here in front of all your fans.”

  “Fuck you, Hunter! Let me go, now!”

  “Final warning,” I say as she pulls and tries to yank herself away.

  “Hunt—” the rest of my name is a garbled scream as I pick her up, haul her over my shoulder and push my way through the few who still stand in my way. Most have their phones out filming. If Wolf and the other boys know what they are doing, that footage will disappear. A few of the fans scream at me, but no one plays the hero.

  I chance a quick glance over my shoulder. Wolf is talking the other guys down and remains ever the professional, it’s another reminder of how much things have changed. In the past, we would have stood and fought all of them—and won—then gone to a bar for a beer and laughed before taking a groupie or two home.

  Now, he has to think about my sister too—who is somewhere behind us—and I have shit to sort out with Emily. How things have changed.

  Her dressing room is a few steps from the crowd. I rip open the door, kicking it shut behind me before I fling her on the sofa inside and slide in beside her.

  “What the hell Hunter?” She screams in my face and tries to slap me. I catch her hand and throw it away.

  Someone clears their throat and I turn to find Emily’s PA standing by the mirror clutching a folder of some kind. He’s tall and skinny and all the colour has drained from his face.

  “Take off,�
�� I growl at him. He looks at Emily, uncertainty plastered across his pale face. She’s rubbing her elbow and her eyes are alight.

  “Miss?”

  “Stay where you are, he’s leaving,” she hisses.

  Fuck it. I throw down the gauntlet, if she wants to do this in front of an audience that’s her choice. Either way, we’re talking. I don't exactly know where to start, my heart hammers in my chest and there is a roaring inside my head that won't relent. “Your song, Unrequited, is that about me?”

  “You? It has nothing to do with you. Get out of my dressing room.”

  “No, answer me.” Her eyes dart over to her PA. That guy needs to go. “You! Give us some privacy.”

  “Ignore him, George, he’s leaving now.”

  “Answer me.”

  “Get out!”

  “Miss, do you need a hand?” The P.A. shifts uncomfortably where he stands. He knows a fight with me will not end well for him.

  “She’s fine,” I assure him.

  “Hunter!”

  “Was it?”

  “Miss.”

  “Emily!”

  She crushes me with a hot look before defeat paints her face. “It’s fine George, thanks. Give us a minute will you?”

  The P.A. stares at me for another second before nodding and rushing out of the room and we’re alone. Rain beats at the window and thunder claps somewhere in the distance.

  Emily faces me and sighs, “What do you want Hunter?”

  “Answers. Like where the hell have you been? And why are you avoiding me? And that fucking song, Emily. I need answers.”

  She nods and settles back into her seat.

  There’s a commotion outside, shouting and screaming. I guess Wolf is reassuring the response team that there is nothing to see here. Took them way too long to get back here. I make a mental note to speak to her about her security detail. This bullshit will not stand. But that’s a problem for later. The noise mutes, just the lashing of the rain against the building.

  “Is that what you came all this way to ask me? About the song?”

  I grind my teeth, “Answer me. Is it about me? Us?”

  Her teeth drag along her lower lip which tips down, “How could it be about you when you’ve never been in love?”

  “Who said I've never been in love?”

  “You!” She sticks her finger out and shoves my chest. “You told me it was a transient, chemical reaction in the brain, just a meaningless word that will never be real for you.”

  “I was an idiot.”

  “Was?”

  “Look, I saw the test.” I blurt out. My eyes dart from her face to her stomach.

  “Is that the real reason you’re here?”

  I shake my head. Confusion reigns inside my head, all logical thought lost to the chaos inside. “I have the right to know.”

  She looks down at her belly and her hands skate over the perfectly flat surface. “You weren't meant to see it.”

  “But I did.” Her eyes collide with mine, glistening with unshed tears.

  She nods.

  “Was it mine? Ours? Did you lose…” I swallow, “it?”

  She shakes her head, and her eyes fall away from mine. “No. I mean yes, but no.”

  “Emily, I don’t under—”

  “It would have been ours.”

  “Would have been?”

  “False-positive. I had a blood test.”

  I feel simultaneously relieved and wistful. Somewhere inside of me, I had accepted that I might be a father, that a part of me was growing inside of her, and a future I’d never imagined was possible. I didn't realise how much I had fallen in love with the idea until just now when it’s been snatched away.

  “Oh.” Is all I can manage. There will be time later to sift through all my feelings. There are just too many now for me to deal with. “Are you ok?”

  “I am now. It was confusing.”

  I nod unsure if I should draw her into me. If she wants me to. My hands fist the sofa and dig into the fabric.

  “I was scared and thought I was alone. When the blood tests came back negative, I was devastated because I didn't realise I already loved this baby that never existed, so much. But I was also relieved because you didn’t…” she sighs

  We sit in a swollen silence for a while. Only the rain, a witness to our misery and loss.

  “You didn't answer any of my calls…”

  “I was hurt and angry and you made it clear you didn’t want to be trapped. Then I took the test…”

  “I didn't think I wanted any of those things. My job is not exactly conducive to relationships…”

  “You think too much.”

  “Maybe...”

  “Maybe?” she scoffs and her mouth downturns, making my heart tighten in my chest. “Your head is too full of strategies and boundaries and denial; you want to control everything, and you are so stubborn you can’t let anything go. When you understand that you need to think less and feel more, you might realise that a heart, unlike the mind, is always honest. At all costs. Which is why it's so scary, which is why it gets exposed and vulnerable. Which is why it hurts so badly when it knows the one it wants doesn't want it back.”

  “Emily—”

  “It’s fine. I’d rather you were honest, and I don’t need a placeholder till the “real thing” comes along. I deserve more.”

  “You do.”

  She purses her lips as if there’s no more left to say.

  “You were right though,” Her eyes lift and look at me growing wide, “I am a coward, and I should have never made you feel like I was your placeholder when you were my everything.”

  The silence lays like honey between us, sweet and sticky and hard to navigate through. Emily stands up and finds her reflection in the mirror. Some of her makeup has smudged with tears and sweat, but she still looks stunning. She leans over the chair and catches my eyes in her reflection. When she shakes her head, her whole face falls, and I feel the stab of her words before they come.

  “I don't think you mean that. You only think you love me because of the baby you thought we were going to have. You don't owe me anything.”

  The pain in my chest intensifies like drowning. It's hard to breathe and everything burns and hurts. I bolt from the sofa and advance on Emily. My body craves her, I crave her; but first, she has to hear everything I have to say. My hands rest on the chair, caging her in. I hold my body at bay, knowing I’m an impulse away from doing something stupid.

  “You piss me off.” I start and maybe they're the wrong words to say, but they are true. “Everything about you gets my blood boiling.”

  She tries to push away from me, but I pin her to the chair with my body. Heat rushes through me, but it has to wait. I find her eyes and hold them with my own. “I get all riled about stupid shit that shouldn’t even matter and for reasons I can’t explain. Couldn't explain.”

  I take a sharp breath, “It pissed me off when you laugh with other people because I want to be the guy making you laugh, and it pisses me off when you dress up to go out cause I want to be the guy who gets to take you out, and it pisses me off when you have conversations with other people and I can't contribute and impress you with my charm and intelligence.” That gets me a quirky smile and I keep going.

  “It pisses me off when I wake up in the morning and you're not there with me, and it pisses me off that I haven’t kissed you, or seen you, or talked to you in six long, excruciating months cause all I want is to stop being pissed off and just be happy—with you. You make me happy, Emily. Being with you, around you, sharing things with you, it makes me happy and I've been miserable without you.”

  My heart ricochets against my ribs, and I hold my breath for a second before releasing it, “I love you, Emilia.”

  Her eyes glisten and she pushes against my chest again. This time I let her and step back, she slides away from me and her eyes snap to mine, “You can’t just say that now.”

  “I mean it.”

 
“I just—”

  “Wait,'' I forestall her with a wave of my hand and reach into my jeans where her present has been tucked uncomfortably into my pants, “I got you something."

  Her eyes shoot up and she gives me a quizzical look as I hand her the parcel.

  She takes it tentatively and undoes the silver bow holding it together. The lyrics are meticulous, scribbled with the author’s handwriting and other delicate markings. A composition. A confession of his soul’s greatest secrets on paper. She gasps and her eyes grow bigger as she looks through the pages.

  Her eyes dart to mine for a second before they go back to the pages. I think that I’ve rendered her speechless, which makes me both insanely happy and uncomfortable.

  “It was you?”

  “Me?”

  “You were the second bidder?”

  Oh. I shrug.

  “You ignored my messages.” She smacks my arm.

  “As I said, it wasn’t for sale and no amount of money would have been enough.”

  She makes a tiny sound and hugs the pages to her chest, “I wanted these so much you have no idea—” The caramel of her eyes swirls and melts and before I grasp what’s happening, she’s closed the distance between us and pushed up onto her tiptoes. Her lips slam into mine, her hands thread through my hair, and my body comes alive for her like it always does. She tastes better than I remember, and as I wrap my hands around her, I know I’m not letting go—not until my body is done telling her anything my words haven’t been able to.

  Twisting her hair around my fist I tug, pulling her head up, deepening our kiss. I forgot how exquisite she is, and I'm going to take my time reminding myself. Except that there’s a pounding at the door, and a man calls out her name. The door is still closed, so I know Wolf still has the situation under control. But maybe until they see her safe, we won't get to be alone.

  She pulls away from me, her heated eyes on mine, her rapid breath searing my skin. “I better—”