Page 71 of Tempt Me

Indigo leaves the woods when I do. He heads in the direction of Aunt Fred on the main farmhouse’s porch. I hope she can soothe his unhappiness.

Hunter hurries over when she spots me in the clearing. I smile at her excited face.

“Did you talk to Indigo?”

“He’s going to ask her out.”

“When?”

“In a year or two.”

Hunter freezes in confusion before offering a big smile. I kiss her grinning lips and hold on like a man wishing he hadn’t wasted years suffering in silence.

HUNTER

After waking before dawn, I sneak away from a sleeping Tack and sit in Bear’s old room. I text Tack to let him know where I am and consider calling my mom in Tokyo. I’m uncertain if her boyfriend is still traveling with her. Suzanne tends to push people away when she’s on edge.

My sister and friends are all asleep like Tack. Rather than make calls, I decide to watch the videos made of the attack.

I’m immediately shocked by how close the person recording the first video is to the action. Despite the terrifying attack going on around them, this person moved closer to get a better view.

The street is a blur of activity, and the person holding the phone keeps pointing it away from me to see who is shooting. Then, the focus returns to me, first as I’m dragged from the SUV and then as Tack and Indigo create a protective wall around me.

I’m covered in blood, screaming and frozen in fear. Watching how close I came to losing Tack, I start shaking. The heat behind my eyes blinds me. I need ten minutes just to calm down enough to finish the second video.

After watching the raw footage, I search out news segments about the situation. I also find plenty of commentary from YouTube amateur sleuths. Several of them have traveled to Banta City and actually stand in front of my mom’s estate to film their little clips.

As these strangers put the spotlight on me, I feel exposed and raw in a new way. They judge my choices while claiming I’m a drug addict, whore, and murderer. They often speak of me as if they’re old friends with the inside dish. The Hunter Knutsen they create might look like me, but she’s someone wholly alien.

I want to scream at them and demand they stop using my pain to make money. Can I sue them? Suzanne once filed a lawsuit against a woman who started rumors about her. She purposedly dragged out the process for years, knowing the other woman’s money would run out before hers did.

Yes, I should go on the offensive! I can do interviews with reputable media and explain my side. Of course, any journalist is bound to ask questions about Tack and the club. I’d put more attention on people who prefer to hide in the shadows.

Can I really remain silent while my name and images become a commodity? The people who died don’t matter. I should strike back with the facts.

Yet, even if I could give the best interview ever and protect the people I love, my words would still get twisted to fit whatever narrative the haters desired. I can’t win.

Silencing my phone, I struggle against a building panic attack. I close my eyes and try to imagine myself somewhere comfortable. I see Tack and me at the clubhouse’s pool tables. Rather than flirting in the subdued way we did in the past, I can wrap him in my arms and soak in his heat.

A smile warms my face as strip away the outside world and focus on the man I love.

Despite my calmer heart, I am still facing an hour of darkness before the sun wakes Tack. I can’t return to his bed. I feel sadness rising in me. In all those news reports and YouTube summarizations, Atticus was barely mentioned. None of the staff were referred to by name. They’ve simply become collateral damage.

Feeling agitated, I walk to the porch to enjoy the fresh morning air. I find Indigo sitting on the porch swing with the dogs at his feet.

When he hears me sniffling, he mumbles, “Most people suck and should be ignored.”

“Yes,” I say, sitting next to him and crying in my hands.

Indigo pats my back while I sob out my panic. Once I calm down, I glance at him and ask, “Have you watched the videos from that day?”

“No. I was there when it happened.”

“People are talking about us.”

Indigo shrugs. “I don’t care about people.”

“It doesn’t bother you to feel judged?”

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