“Hand over your jewelry,” he snarls, stepping close enough I can smell sweat and something sharper, maybe meth. “Whatever cash you have too.”
I stumble backward. I don’t have any cash or jewelry. Does he mean Hunter’s watch? There’s a gleam of silver on the huge man’s wrist.
Meanwhile, my companion doesn’t seem intimidated at all. The alpha male laughs, a low, cold sound. “You really want to do this right now?”
“Not talking to you, asshole,” the guy sneers. “Give me your shit, sweetheart. Both of you.”
My legs threaten to fold again. I back up until I’m against a frozen jungle gym, metal rungs biting my spine through my coat.
The man gets closer. “Don’t make me hurt you.”
Suddenly Hunter is in motion. He doesn’t yell, doesn’t run. He moves with a deliberate calm that’s ten times scarier. He steps between me and the guy, hands at his sides, loose.
“You’re going to walk away,” Hunter says, voice so soft it almost floats.
The man’s mouth opens, like he’s going to argue, but the rest of his body wants nothing to do with this. His eyes dart to Hunter’s hands, to his shoulders, to the empty swing set behind him.
“Fuck you,” the guy says, but it’s all bluff now. “I’ll remember your face.”
Hunter tilts his head, gives a small, amused smile. “That would be a mistake.”
They stare at each other for a long second, the air between them electric. Then the guy’s nerve snaps, and he bolts—across the playground, through the trees, gone.
For a while, I can’t move. Hunter turns to me, face unreadable.
“You alright?” he asks, same as before.
I realize I’m shivering, my fingers white. My whole body vibrates, but now it’s from the adrenaline, not the cold.
“I don’t remember my name,” I whisper. It slips out before I can think about it.
Hunter doesn’t seem surprised. “You’re not yourself,” he says in a slow voice. “Tell you what. You’re not interested in the hospital, but I know another place. Let’s get you somewhere safe, and figure it out.”
He offers a hand again. I take it, desperate for the anchor, and follow him out of the park. His grip is careful, gentle, but I can feel the strength there. He could have snapped the mugger in two, if he wanted. Instead, he just watched him walk away.
I don’t know what to make of it. I don’t know what to make of anything.
We make it back to his SUV. He opens the door, waits for me to get in, then slides behind the wheel.
He doesn’t start the car right away. He looks at me, searching my face, and I sense he’s trying to piece me together, too.
“You’re fine,” he states. “For now, you can be whoever you want.”
I press my palms to my eyes, and in the darkness behind my lids, I see blue again. His blue, but also a memory—maybe—of ayoung man with eyes like sky and a laugh that made me laugh too. The image slips away, replaced by pain, and I let my hands fall.
“Can you just drive?” I say, voice shaking. “Anywhere. Away from here.”
Hunter nods, starts the car, and does exactly what I ask.
I curl in the seat, clutching my knees, and try not to think about what I’ve lost. Or what I might still lose.
All I have is tonight, and this stranger who makes the world a little less terrifying.
We drive in silence,the world smeared outside the windows, snow like static on a dead TV. I count the rhythm of the wipers, the low growl of the engine, every detail a tiny thread keeping me stitched to the present. Hunter doesn’t talk, but he checks the mirror every thirty seconds, making sure we’re not being followed by anyone worse than our own ghosts.
After a few miles, he pulls into a 24-hour gas station, the only place lit up for blocks. I blink against the fluorescence as we step inside. The clerk is behind bulletproof glass, head bent over a tattered Sudoku. I trail behind Hunter, still shivering, and he grabs a bottle of water, a pack of Advil, and a Snickers from the display rack.
“You hungry?” he asks, and his voice is low, soft, like he’s afraid to spook me.
