Rescued

“Does the little lady want to try her punching power?” he asked, as the previous group was still meandering away. His voice was scratchy, which made me think he was a smoker.

I looked to Hunter, who spoke up. “I do.”

The operator looked at the prizes behind him quickly then gave Hunter a gap-toothed smile. “Alrighty, son. That’ll be one ticket.”

Hunter handed over the ticket and then quickly removed his sweatshirt. His back and shoulders bulged against the thin white t-shirt he wore underneath. His natural scent washed over me in a quick wave, causing my skin to flush.

The operator’s eyebrows shot up when he saw Hunter getting prepared. “Making sure you’re unimpeded, I see. Do you work out?”

Hunter smiled in the way he did when people were patronizing him. “Just tell me when to punch the bag.”

“Step right up. Whenever you’re ready.”

Hunter wound up and hit the bag with a ferocious straight right hand. Whereas the previous puncher had taken a wild, looping swing, Hunter’s motion was tight and efficient.

The bag smacked hard against the machine with a sound between a car backfiring and a gunshot. Some people walking by stopped in their tracks to see what was going on.

A low whistle emerged from the operator’s lips. “Twenty-seven thousand, two-hundred,” he said, almost to himself.

Hunter looked satisfied with himself. “Let’s have the dog, please.”

The operator picked up one of the Bernies and handed it to him, still stunned. “Highest score I ever seen on that thing. That was some nice form. You box?”

Hunter handed me the stuffed dog and turned back to the operator. “Kinda.”

The operator nodded. “Well, you should keep it sharp. I dunno if you’re from ‘round here, but there’s a gym in town where you could get some work on. Clint might even give you some work if you wanna train some youngins”

“Gotcha. Maybe I’ll check it out. Thanks for the tip.”

“My pleasure. Hope you enjoy that dog Little Lady.”

“Thanks,” I said, giving the dog a big hug.

Hunter smiled and put his arm around me as we walked away, his sweatshirt over his other shoulder. People walking by stared at the giant stuffed dog in my arms. It made me feel like a celebrity.

“When did you start boxing, anyway?” I asked, after we’d been walking for a little while.

Hunter squeezed my shoulder a little bit. “I boxed and wrestled in high school, but I didn’t get into MMA in college until after I got kicked out of Air Force ROTC.”

Of course. That’s why he had an Air Force shirt, and his place was so neat.

“Is ROTC why you studied Physics?”

“Yeah, it’s a good major if you wanna get into the Air Force. Shows you’re disciplined, and having that kind of knowledge is useful for all sorts of stuff in the military.”

“Why did you get kicked out?”

“It was ‘cause of my MS. Air Force policy.”

“I’m sorry,” I said quietly.

“It was something I’d been working for since I was in high school. I just wanted to get up in a plane and fly away from all the bullshit, but whatever. It’s over now.” He looked down and kicked a rock out of the way.

It must’ve been difficult for him, to have his dreams dashed, just because of some disease that he couldn’t control.

“It’s never a bad thing to chase your dreams,” I said. Trying to distract him, I decided to bring up something that had been on my mind lately. “I wish I had some idea of what I want in the future.”

He shrugged. “No big deal, you got a lot of time to figure it out.”

“I think it might help me move on if I figured it out sooner rather than later.”

“What about art?” he asked, pointing to the sketchbook in my arms.

I thought about it for a second. He did have a point. Art was something I was naturally drawn to.

“Yeah, maybe. I’m thinking about it. I don’t think I was doing super well at Arrowhart anyway. None of those classes were very interesting. I know Daniela really liked her psych classes, but I never got into any of them.”

“Maybe you can go to art school or something.”

I nodded, staring into the distance. It seemed scary, but maybe it was something I could look into.

“If I had a ton of money, I’d pay for your drawings,” he said, his eyes crinkling with his smile.

I smiled and hugged him close, giving him a kiss on the cheek. I could tell he was still a little bothered about our talk about the Air Force.

We came to the food court and took a seat at a free table. Hunter went to go get some food while I sat my new stuffed animal next to me and got out my drawing supplies. Maybe I could draw him something to try and bring his spirits up.

I looked around to see if there was anything good to sketch, before deciding on what I wanted. Working quickly, I began a sketch of Hunter at the punching game, adding plenty of my own twists.

By the time he came back with our treats, I was already well on the way to finishing up. I hid it with my hand as he approached.

“Whatcha working on?” he asked, putting the plate with a funnel cake in front of me.

“Don’t look,” I said. “I’m almost done.”

He chuckled and looked away. “Alright. Don’t let your snack get cold, though.”

“I won’t.”

A minute later, I picked up the sweet pastry—which was still warm—and turned my sketchbook so Hunter could see my handiwork. He took one look at it and laughed.

“Is that me?” he asked.

“Yup. I did take some artistic liberties . . .”

“Is that why I’m wearing a cape with a hammer on it?”

I smiled. “Yeah. I mean, technically, it’s a drawing of your alter-ego The Hammer as you rescue Bernie from the clutches of the evil Carnival Man.”

He pointed at the depiction of Bernie. “Why is Bernie wearing a cape too?”

“Bernie is your sidekick. He’s gonna be there to protect you.”

He stared at the drawing for a second longer before looking up. “And where are you?” he asked, locking eyes with me.

His expression sent a warm surge through my body. “Waiting for you in your bed so I can polish your hammer after a hard day of saving the world,” I said mischievously.

His mouth opened slightly and he licked his lips, then looked away. “We should probably head back after this, don’t you think?”

I took a giant bite of powdery sugar goodness. “Sounds good to me.”

Fifteen minutes later we were in Hunter’s car driving back home. Bernie was riding in the back seat with my art stuff.

“That was fun,” I said, staring out the passenger window. “I love my aunt and uncle, but getting out and away from them for a bit was nice.”

“Yeah it was fun. I like your aunt and uncle though. Seeing a functional family is kinda a new experience for me.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, before I could think better of it.

“My parents are deadbeats,” Hunter said simply. “Best case, they ignored me. Worst case, they wanted to get me involved by beating up their dealer or something. It was kinda a lose-lose.”