by RC Boldt
Resignation glows in the depths of his gaze. “Anyone connected to me is at risk, and I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to you.”
He takes a step back, and even this small act sends stifling waves of dread washing over me. “You need to start over far away from here.”
In his own way, Hunter has shown me who he was and who he is now, thinking all the while that it would change my mind. That I’d determine he’s exactly who he believes he is: a monster who thrives in darkness. One fueled by evil, who extinguishes all light and everything good in the world.
And perhaps he succeeded in a way because I do see him, but not in the way he thinks. I see the man who cares enough for me that he made my plan for vengeance possible the only way he knew how.
I see the man who worried about my safety so much that he sent his dog along with me when I ran.
I see the man who held me through nightmares without an ounce of hesitation.
He’s the man who touched me with his whole heart, even if he doesn’t believe he still has one.
Leaving him will hurt, no doubt about that, but I know now that I’m made of stronger stuff. I am my father’s daughter and a warrior like Katniss. Brave in the face of overwhelming adversity and heartache.
I’ll survive because there’s something else left for me out there. I’m not sure exactly what that is, but I made a promise to Dad and Willow, and I sure as hell plan to keep it.
It doesn’t mean I won’t mourn the loss of the man who showed me the kind of love I never knew I needed. The kind I never knew existed. The kind I know deep down to the marrow of my bones I’ll never find again.
I allow my eyes to travel over his face, memorizing every curve and hard line while my heart twists. God, this is a brand of agony that feels like it’s hollowing me out, leaving me with nothing but a barren wasteland in place of my heart and soul. “Then I guess this is goodbye.”
I battle with myself, using every ounce of effort to hold my tears at bay. “I guess it’s just one of those miracles about life and love. The way a heart can heal when you can’t imagine it’s possible.” My voice cracks. “You made my heart come back to life. And for that, I thank you.”
His jaw clenches in a visible struggle before he forces out uncharacteristically gentle words. “You gave me the sun in all my darkness. But if you stay, it’ll overtake you, too. It’s better this way.”
“Do me one favor?” My voice is ragged with emotion, and I know he detects it. He’s too sharp not to.
His tone is hushed, hesitant. “What’s that?”
“Keep that smile. It’s just a tiny bit crooked.” My throat threatens to close up, and I duck my chin, staring down at the floor. My next words barely get through. “But it’s perfect.”
He doesn’t answer me. Instead, he tangles his fingers in the hair at my nape and gently nudges my face to look at him. As soon as I do, my heart lurches painfully in my chest because his expression is like none I’ve ever witnessed. It’s such a vast departure from what I’ve come to know, yet it warms me through to my core. It looks an awful lot like…love.
All thoughts cease when his mouth captures mine in a devouring kiss that sets my body on fire. But as quickly as it starts, he draws away, taking a step back.
“Goodbye, Kate.” Hunter turns and leaves the room. Kujo sits just outside the doorway, and I step from the bedroom, unable to tear my eyes off the agonizing sight of Hunter’s long legs eating up the floor before pausing at the front door to wait for his dog. When Kujo doesn’t immediately follow him, without turning, Hunter’s commanding voice beckons the dog. “Kujo.”
I bend down to hug the sweet dog. “I’ll miss you,” I whisper raggedly, tears dripping down my face and landing in his soft black fur. “Take care of him for me, okay?”
Kujo lets out a little whine, nudging my chin with his nose before he trots over to Hunter.
I straighten, my eyes tracking Hunter as he steps through the door into the dark night and closes it quietly behind him. My battered heart desperately begs for him to change his mind and walk back through.
But he never does, and my heart fractures in my chest as I stare at the closed door.
Pressing my fist to my mouth, I pinch my eyes closed against the debilitating pain radiating through me. But I fight it off, because I know this isn’t the end. It’s not the conclusion of my book or chapter. I still have a life to live.
I am fucking Katniss, just like he said, and this next half of my novel—of my life—is only getting started.
60
Hunter
Christmas Eve
I was right all along. She’s a goddamn warrior princess. Not only has she been slaying filthy excuses for humans, but she slayed my fucking heart right along with them.
All this time, I thought I didn’t have a heart and soul left. But I had it all wrong. They’ve been here with me, just hidden deep, barely alive, with the scarcest beat of a pulse. And they’ve been captured by the woman I left behind at that house.
The woman I walked away from because I only bring death everywhere I go. She deserves the fairy tale, but I’m not the man who can deliver it.
Kujo and I get two blocks away before I draw to a sudden stop. He peers up at me, his ears perking up as if wondering what the hell I’m doing.
Yeah…fuck if I know. But something has me turning around, running through the grass, my shoes barely making a sound, and I’m grateful for the cover of darkness.
I carefully approach a spot where I can catch a glimpse of her house. The moment she quietly steps out, pulling the door closed behind her, I grit my teeth so hard my molars begin to ache as pure anguish sears through the center of my chest. Every molecule of my body calls out to hers, the physical pain at being away from her near debilitating.
She swipes a hand at one cheek before straightening her shoulders. Gripping the handle of a box and a large bag I noticed she had stashed in the back of her closet, she sets off in the opposite direction.
Watching as she disappears soundlessly in the night, I allow myself to whisper the truth, letting the words drift away in the cold night air.
“I love you.”
61
Kate
I sneak back out of the clinic after leaving the note on Doc’s desk.
Dear Doc,
No words exist that could express my gratitude for all that you’ve done for me. You could’ve chosen to look the other way and not help me, but you took a huge risk anyway. And I know it’s gutless as hell, but I can’t bear to say goodbye face-to-face.
Watch out for Javoris for me, please. He’s a good kid, and he could use a role model like you. You taught me so much. Like how someone can care for another person’s child with no incentive or payback whatsoever.
Once you finally decide to retire, come see me. I’ll have a longboard waiting for you.
XO
When I venture toward the building and spot him sitting in his usual spot on the front stoop, I’m partially surprised.
“Merry Christmas Eve.”
Javoris nearly jumps out of his skin. “You always scare the crap out of me!”
“Sorry.” I pause for a moment. “It’s Christmas Eve. Don’t you know you’re supposed to be in bed or Santa won’t visit you?”
He snorts. “Santa’s not real.”
I shrug. “Well, then, there goes my story.”
He peers up at me. “What story?”
“The one where I said Santa asked me to bring you this.” I grab what I set down behind the bushes and carefully place the bag and box in front of him. He stares at the box for a minute, his jaw slowly dropping wide open.
“OhmyGod. Is this…?”
“Yeah,” I say softly. “But remember to have Doc show you the ropes with this one, okay?”
He nods so fast I fear he’ll get whiplash. “I’ve been practicing with him on his bow when he’s got time.”
Javoris stares at the box with such awe my heart lurches. It’s
an eerily similar sense of awe Willow had when we’d given this bow to her. Then he peers into the bag and stares for a moment before lifting his eyes to gape at me.
“You got us jackets? And shoes for my mom?” He turns his surprised gaze to the contents of the bag again. With a sniffle, he swipes roughly at his face, voice thick with emotion when he asks, “And a new backpack for me?”
Suddenly uncomfortable, I back away. “Well, take care.”
“Wait!”
He jumps up from where he sits and rushes to me, arms spread wide, and hugs me tight. His voice is muffled against my jacket. “Thanks, Grim.”
I pat his back. “You’re welcome.”
Easing away, I lift my chin, gesturing to the door to his place. “Better get inside and get some rest if you want to be in top form for practicing with it tomorrow.”
He nods slowly, eyeing me speculatively. “Are you leaving?”
The word feels like it sticks in my throat. “Yeah.”
His expression grows worried. “Will I ever see you again?”
Swallowing hard past the lump of emotion in my throat, I shake my head. “No.” At his wounded expression, I rush to add, “But Doc’ll check on you for me while I’m gone.”
He simply watches as I back away and turn to leave. I take one step when something compels me to toss over my shoulder, “Hey, Javoris? Promise me something.”
“What?”
“Promise you’ll always be aware of your surroundings.”
There’s a pause, and I know he doesn’t understand, but I hope to God it stays with him—that I’m leaving him with something useful.
“I promise.”
“Check the pockets of those jackets.” Stuffing them with some extra cash was the least I could do. I stride away on the pothole-ridden pavement and call out softly over my shoulder, “Merry Christmas, Javoris.”
His voice calls out after me in a hushed tone laced with sadness that pierces my heart. “Merry Christmas, Grim.”
62
Kat
Playa Cocles, Costa Rica
Seventeen Months Later
I started my own little greenhouse along the side of my property for herbs and a few fruits and vegetables. I’m pleasantly surprised to have a handful of maracuya plants—or passion fruit—flourishing as well.
Surfers traveling in groups often rent out my other building that’s separated from my living quarters by a small covered walkway. Of course, I vet everyone who wishes to stay on the premises. Some things you can’t get away from. I’m nothing if not supremely careful. Even now, with my new identity.
This house may be a bit on the larger side for one person, but the view of the ocean and peaceful waves each night are what make it perfect for me. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t sit outside some evenings, content as the dark night conceals me, while my thoughts stray to him.
The envelopes began arriving in the mail three months after I settled here. A plain white envelope with no return address containing an enclosed newspaper clipping. Each one has detailed another setback for the Dixie Mafia. It wasn’t difficult to determine who they were from.
After all, he was called The Hunter for a reason.
One headline, in particular, stuck out.
Charleston, SC, Dixie Mafia operations and the FBI Fall Under Investigation
Members of the notorious crime organization face multiple indictments alongside simultaneous exposure of local and federal corruption
I held that clipping to my chest as relief surged through me that Hunter was finally getting justice for where it had all ended and begun for him.
When two other clippings were delivered with the headlines Press Conference Credits Anonymous Source Pivotal In Revealing Dixie Mafia Corruption Ring and Detective Samuel Warren Promoted To Chief of Police, both my heart and soul rejoiced. I’d felt lighter knowing that justice was prevailing this time around.
And that maybe I’d helped a little by giving things a swift kick in the ass.
When details were leaked to the national media of certain corrupt local and federal law enforcement officers, it created a cacophony of protest from not only public officials, but everyday citizens demanding action be taken.
The dismantling of a crime organization the size and reach the Dixie Mafia has isn’t going to happen overnight or even within a few months, but it seems that when one man is hell-bent on making a change, he certainly gets shit done. I doubt they’ll be extinguished entirely because there’s no way to eradicate all evil from this world. It will continue to exist; something as old as time. But at least a spotlight has been shined on the corruption, murders, and illegal activities unlike ever before.
While I fold the freshly laundered towels to prep for my next group of surfers due to arrive late tomorrow, I can’t help but wonder if he’s okay. After receiving those envelopes, a glimmer of hope burst to life within me that maybe there was a chance Hunter would come back to me…someday.
The sudden tightness in my throat and the excruciating way my heart pinches at the idea have me shaking my head derisively at myself.
When the envelopes stopped arriving, it made me wonder if he was telling me to do exactly what he’d told me: to move on.
I’ve been doing just that. I’ve started a new life for myself, and it’s one I’m proud of…even though I’m plagued with a bone-deep ache for a man I can never have in my life. Even though I’m haunted by his crooked smile and the way he’d hold me in his arms at night.
But deep down, there’s another part of me that questions if Hunter’s letters stopped because…he’s dead.
My hands stutter in folding the towel, my breath lodging painfully in my chest at the thought.
I’ve had plenty of time to contemplate everything and realize that although I’d known Deacon for years, I’d never truly known him. He never made me feel like Hunter did. I never felt like my heart called out to Deacon’s. Like our souls recognized each other’s counterpart.
When Mom died and I stepped in to be there for Dad, Deacon had been the one to comfort me and held steadfast when being strong for Dad had pushed me past the brink. When my heart had succumbed to fractures and fissures, Deacon had filled them. I think perhaps I’d fallen in love with the safety and security Deacon offered. That I’d mistaken it for the kind of love a person can’t live without.
Where Deacon filled in those fractures and fissures, Hunter didn’t. Instead, he reinforced the foundation of my heart with something stronger and more fortified. Sealed it tight with no way for it to be breached or crack. Then he gave it something it desperately needed in order to heal those fractures and fissures on its own.
A love unlike any other.
A wistful smile tugs at my lips as I finish folding the towels, and I close my eyes, internally hoping that wherever Hunter may be, he knows my love is with him.
The sound of someone approaching in flip-flops has my eyes flashing open, the individual’s easy, casual gait holds the trademark of a surfer. Those who roam from location to location along this coast, chasing the waves, hear about my place from locals and often ask me for last-minute accommodations.
Unfortunately for this individual, I’m booked solid for the remainder of the year since not only is our location prime for waves, but my amenities are among the best around.
“I apologize, but I won’t have any vacancy until—” I turn to face the individual, and my hold on the towel immediately turns white-knuckled. All breath is robbed from me, my heart pounding erratically against my rib cage as the man draws to a stop a few feet away. Regaining a semblance of composure takes me far longer than I care to admit.
Tan, lean body. Light-blond scruff sprinkled along his jawline and nearly white-blond hair on his head cut short on the sides with a bit longer length on top. With a Billabong T-shirt encasing his broad chest, board shorts sitting low on his hips, and well-worn flip-flops on his feet, he fully embodies the look of a surfer. No colored contact lenses hinder the sight of those
piercing blue eyes. His nose and lips are slightly different; the bridge is now narrow and chiseled, while his lips appear more tapered.
“Hi.” His husky voice reaches out to me like a long-lost friend, and my insides clench with a dangerous mix of hope and yearning. “I, uh…” He slides his hands in the pockets of his shorts in a strange display of nervousness. The slightly crooked smile has my knees nearly buckling. “I wondered if you needed any help around here. I’m new to the area and looking for work.”
“I’m not looking to hire someone who’s planning to up and leave after one or two paychecks.” My voice grows stronger as I straighten my shoulders. “I need someone reliable. For the long term.” I survey his features, trying to get a read on him.
He steps closer. “That would definitely be me.”
“Do you have references?”
“That might pose a problem since I, uh…” He scratches his jaw with a wince. “I made sure there weren’t any traces of anything that could serve as a reference.”
“How am I supposed to believe you?” I say in a low whisper. “That you won’t just disappear without a word?”
His features draw tight as he takes another step closer. “Because I did it. I left it all behind for the one person who made me realize it was possible—that starting a new life was possible. That I could have one with her.”
His gaze is unsure, and I’ve never witnessed this man ever being anything less than confident. “I fucked up and let her leave. But I’m here now. To stay as long as she wants me. Unless…” His mouth stamps into a thin line before he finishes with a barely audible, “Unless some surfer’s already swept her off her feet.”
