The Hunter: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance: Chapter 21

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.

“I found out who set us up, who made this shit with Lana leak,” I said, taking a moment to appreciate how dope the hashtag would be: #LanaLeak. Sailor didn’t share my admiration for my superior wit. She rolled her eyes, picking up the duffel bag I’d tossed away, and hoisting it on her shoulder.

“Not this again.”

I hit play before she could say anything else. The recording started. Junsu and Lana were talking somewhere loud. A diner, by the sound of customers and the gum-popping waitress who insisted on topping off their coffees every five seconds.

Junsu: I don’t know what it’s going to take for Sailor to give up competition. Maybe not ever. She want it bad. I try with her shoulder being inflamed, but she got it treated, refused to make it worse.

Lana: Well, you should’ve tried harder, Junsu. That’s what my team paid you for—to make sure this wouldn’t come to a point where I’d have to compete with her. Do you have any idea how pissed my sponsors will be if I don’t make it to the Olympics? There’s a lot on the line. Last I checked, I paid you the money for your kid’s college in full.

Junsu: I know. I thinking of other possibilities to stop her.

Lana: Lay it on me, old man. I’m willing to try anything at this point. I’ll lose a movie deal if I don’t get to the Olympics. It’s, like, in the actual contract with the studio, that I’ll make it to the Olympics. Can you believe it? People are trash.

Junsu: There is one more way, I think. She has agreement with the boy. The pretty, rich one. Secret deal. This how she got all the sudden publicity. I think maybe touching that will help. She live with him now.

Lana: What rich boy? What agreement? I knew it! I knew there was something weird going on. This bitch didn’t pop all over my newsfeed for no reason. Someone is pushing her. Who’s the guy?

Junsu: I have the name here. Wait. He has been coming to club lately. I think they may be couple. I think he is—how you say?—her Achilles’ heel. I think he the key to sorting this mess.

This was the part where Junsu must’ve passed his phone to Lana. Then:

Lana: Hmm. Hunter Fitzpatrick. Heard about him. Wouldn’t mind being his arm candy for the winter. Let’s set this up, Junsu. You do the dirty work and make sure I have access to him. I’ll bring the paps. Start working for what you were paid to do.

Junsu: Okay. Just don’t hurt her. Don’t hurt Sailor. She can still have next Olympics. Yes?

Lana: By the next Olympics I will be a gazillionaire and Sailor will be a virgin spinster who has nothing but archery in her life. I’ll be out of the game and deep into my acting career. She can have the Olympics then.

I ripped the AirPod from my ear, killing the recording. The rest was more bullshit Lana spewed about Sailor, which she didn’t need to hear. Sailor’s huge jade eyes stared up at me, the gold and gray in them glittering. Every muscle in her body looked tight and strained, and I found this moment to ponder the stupidest thing in the universe—if we ever had kids, what eye color would they have, between my deep blue and her wild green?

How about focus on her not wanting to murder you first, old sport?

“Hell if I know how he found out about the agreement.” I shook my head. “But there you have it.”

“God, Hunter. I told him. About our agreement. About…” She cupped her mouth, keeling like she was about to throw up. “I did this. I told Junsu. And he used it against me. Lana bribed him. Jesus Christ. My own trainer…” She trailed off, straightening her spine and pacing back and forth in the parking lot, pulling at her short tresses.

It was a lot to take in. Sailor and Junsu had worked together for a long time. I rubbed her back, surprised that she let me. Then again, she was in shock. She kept saying, “He betrayed me” over and over again. Then the tune changed to, “And you betrayed me, too.”

“Now, hold that thought.” I grabbed her by the waist and hoisted her to sit on some random car’s hood.

She slapped my hands away, scowling at me. “I know what I saw.”

“No, you know what you think you saw. Around the time your shoulder was injured, I started suspecting Junsu’s motives. His behavior seemed at odds with that of a trainer who wanted his athlete to succeed. I already had recording devices and Sherlock Holmes’ equipment coming out of my ass, so I figured—what’s another offense to my list of growing breaches of privacy? I was getting good at playing super spy. I wired him up unbeknownst to him, just for shits and giggles, and have been listening to him periodically. One in the piggy bank. The other in a watch that’s a replica of the one he put on his desk for a second to try my Rolex.”

Her eyes widened in shock. “You came to visit Junsu?”

I nodded. “Pretended to take an interest in private lessons. Scared the bejesus out of him when I said I wanted to learn so I could survive post-apocalypse.”

That earned me a faint smile. Tough crowd.

I soldiered on. “These recordings won’t hold in court, aingeal dian, because my ass had no business wiring him up. The day you so-called caught Lana and me doing it, I came in because Junsu said he had something to show me. It sounded a lot like a threat, and I worried it was about you. Only it wasn’t Junsu who walked into his office. It was Lana. And she caught me messing with his drawers. It looked bad. Like, horrible. She thought I was trying to find juice on him—which was true—and had me by the balls. But I knew the wire in the piggy bank was still working, so I pretended to cooperate with her, knowing I could prove to you that nothing happened. Also, she gave me the information I was after.”

I hit the play button again on my phone, this time on another trimmed section of the recording. The AirPod still in Sailor’s ear began to play.

Lana: Busted, pretty boy.

Hunter: You scared the living shit out of me. I was just on my way out.

Lana: Where do you think you’re going? We both know you’re not supposed to be here.

Hunter: Junsu called me.

Lana: To go through his drawers? I don’t think so.

Hunter: And what brings you here? Got a taste for older men?

Lana: Only if they serve my purposes.

Hunter: Hey. What the fuck are you doing?

Lana: Texting my friends from the local newspapers our whereabouts. And Junsu, too, to tell your girl to come over here and see this. We’re about to raise a scandal, baby.

Hunter: Why would Junsu answer your ass? I’ve met bricks less tough than him.

Lana: Because we’re working together on something—no point in keeping you in the dark. You’re about to become a part of my plan. Lose your shirt.

Hunter: Lose your entitled, shit-eating grin first.

Lana: Meow. I wouldn’t cross me, pretty boy. I’m a girl on a mission, and right now, you’re it.

Hunter: God, you sound like a B-grade porn adaptation of the Power Rangers. I mean, it sounds like something I’d be into, but surprisingly, it’s not.

Lana: Lose. The. Shirt.

Hunter: What if I say no?

Lana: You leave here in handcuffs and even your daddy won’t be able to explain what you were doing breaking into a locked drawer. Especially seeing as you’ve already had a brush with the police this year. Rape charges, right?

Hunter: They were dropped. And if I say yes?

Lana: Sailor drops out of the race, and I leave you to pick up the pieces. Although I must say, I’m the better option.

Hunter: Let’s agree to disagree. Just so you know, I’m not going to fuck you, kiss you, or touch you. So let’s get that out of the way.

Lana: (laughs) I’m all set in that department. Save your charity fucks for someone who needs them, like Sailor. Playing pretend is enough. She’ll be coming here soon. Lose the shirt, stud.

I stopped the recording again, raising an eyebrow. If that wasn’t sufficient proof I hadn’t been porking her archenemy, I didn’t know what was. Problem was, I couldn’t exactly relay all this shit to her on the phone or via text messages. Because, illegal.

She chewed on the skin around her thumbnail, then shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut.

“It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. Another month together wouldn’t have done us any good. Not me, anyway. I am already in l—” She stopped herself, breathing hard, realizing what she was about to say.

“You’re what?” I pressed. “What did you want to say?”

“Never mind. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. We had a month left, and I don’t want it. You’re free of the contract. I’m sure your father has already told you your inheritance won’t be affected.”

My father didn’t tell me shit, actually, since I’d been dodging his and my mother’s calls since this blew up, but whatever. I didn’t have time to correct her. I wanted to tell her so many things. But when she hopped down from the hood and made her way to her car, I couldn’t stop her.

Couldn’t stop her because she was right. A few more weeks wouldn’t matter.

Right because sure, I didn’t sleep with anyone else, but that hadn’t meant I wasn’t a dick to her a million other times.

Right because she had bigger fish to fry. Namely Junsu and Lana.

She got into her car. I had this idea to do what I’d threatened to do all those months ago, when I first came here to corner her—stand behind her car and stop her from leaving. I no longer believed she would run me over, but for the first time in a long time, I didn’t want to be a self-serving piece of shit.

If she didn’t want to be with me, I couldn’t force her.

And that realization hit me like a ten-ton brick.

As soon as her car raced out of the parking lot, I took my phone out and texted her. Figured she’d be quick to lift my block once she knew I had information that could be useful to her regarding Lana and Junsu. Turned out, I was right.

Hunter: A few more weeks. Come on. For old times’ sake.

Sailor: Sorry. You don’t fit into my world anymore.

Hunter: I’m not a fucking loveseat, Sailor.

Hunter: Although…

Sailor: I know, I know, I can sit on your face anytime.

Hunter: Dick, too. <3

Sailor: Stop texting me.