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  After three hours, we had only seen Robbie a handful of times and only for a few minutes. Tired of entertaining ourselves in the foul environment, we were done. Hunter volunteered to take us home, which Sam and I gratefully accepted. We went in search of Robbie with Sam leading the way, trailed closely by Hunter and I followed in the rear practically glued to his back. We located Robbie manning the keg on the back deck—he looked downtrodden, sober, and freezing. Seeing our approach, he asked another brother to operate the keg and came to greet us.

  “Sorry, baby. I have been assigned to one crappy task after another,” Robbie grumbled.

  “Don’t worry, babe. We all understand, but we’re going to head out. Ev has work tomorrow, and I’m spent,” Sam assuaged.

  “Let me walk you out,” Robbie said, taking Sam’s hand and headed to the front door.

  We were about ten feet from freedom when Heath intercepted Robbie.

  “Hey man, you can’t leave; you’re on keg out back,” Heath decreed.

  “I’m not leaving, Heath, I’m just walking Sam out. She’s heading home, I’ll be back in five minutes.”

  Heath finally noticed the rest of us. Sizing up Hunter, he resolved to make nice—a wise decision on his part. Heath was tall and built; six feet one with muscles I suspected had been enhanced by unnatural means; he was undoubtedly accustomed to being the toughest guy in the room. Hunter was taller by an inch and cloaked in muscles earned through physical discipline instead of chemical enhancement. Heath still had traces of youth in face where Hunter was a man, a robust powerful man with a commanding presence. It was the air of unyielding strength emanating from Hunter that likely persuaded Heath to back down.

  “Hey man, I’m Heath Varbeck.”

  Heath extended a hand to Hunter, which he accepted without enthusiasm.

  “You should stay and hang out, the party is just getting started. We have the select liquor downstairs—I can hook you up.”

  “No, the girls are ready to get home,” Hunter replied adamantly.

  Heath changed tactics, addressing Sam. “You aren’t going to leave your boy here all by himself, surrounded by beautiful, willing women, are you?”

  “There’s no point in staying. I have barely seen Robbie tonight because he had to serve the rest of you. Besides, I trust him.”

  “A confident woman, naïve perhaps but confident. Ignorance is bliss or so they say,” Heath condescended.

  “What about you, lovely? Are you leaving with these lightweights, too?” Heath turned his attentions to me. This was a miscalculation on his part because I was out of patience.

  Spurning him, I stalked toward the door, inciting Heath who grabbed hold of my wrist firmly. My arm was extended behind me at an awkward angle, trapped in his uncomfortably tight grasp, and forcing me to pivot in his direction to lessen the tension on my shoulder.

  “I was talking to you,” Heath hissed at me.

  I was about to offer a cutting reply demanding he release me, when the energy around us crackled dangerously.

  “I strongly suggest you release her now,” Hunter addressed Heath, his tone even and devoid of any emotion. His stance appeared casual, but I noticed the subtle adjustments made in preparation—Hunter had taken a fighter’s stance. His threat was restrained, but the effect was unnerving. Hunter was fearsome without having to be blatant.

  Heath tried to mask his apprehension, but traces were visible beneath his mask of bravado. He viciously crushed my wrist in his meaty grasp—reprisal for Hunter’s audacity—before relinquishing me.

  “Are you alright?” Hunter asked me quietly with concern, never removing his eyes from Heath.

  “Let’s just go. Now.”

  I didn’t intend to tell him my wrist was killing me and would likely be covered in bruises tomorrow, it would only escalate the confrontation. Hunter had a tight rein on his fury, but his restraint was at its breaking point. If I told him Heath had hurt me, Hunter would go nuclear.

  Heath turned to leave, only to find his path obstructed by Hunter.

  “If you ever lay your uninvited hands on a woman again, you will regret it.” Hunter snarled. “And if you ever—ever—so much as look at Everleigh, I will destroy you…fuck the consequences.”

  Leaving Heath with his oath, Hunter gently wrapped his arm around my shoulder and guided me out of the house with Sam and Robbie trailing.

  “I’m so sor—” Robbie began, but Hunter cut him off.

  “Don’t!” Hunter took a calming breath, “please, just say goodnight to Sam so I can get the girls home.”

  “I’m so sorry, Sam, this is why I try to avoid the frat. Heath is an ass when he doesn’t get his way,” Robbie sounded defeated.

  “Robbie, I know you’re a reluctant participant. Nevertheless, I can’t believe you would forsake your integrity to be part of any organization that would include Heath, regardless of the pressure from your family. Just…” Sam shook her head, not wanting to punish Robbie when he was already punishing himself, “just call me tomorrow.” Sam kissed him on the cheek and walked away.

  “I’m sorry Ev,” Robbie added as an afterthought.

  I nodded my acceptance and we all walked away, leaving Robbie in the den of debauchery. We were lost in thought while walking to Hunter’s black Yukon. Hunter opened our doors and Sam climbed in the back while I climbed in the front. Once Hunter had started the car, he turned on the overhead light and gently lifted my wrist to examine it.

  “Damn it,” he seethed, “your wrist is going to be covered in bruises. Why didn’t you tell me? It must be throbbing.”

  “I knew it would lead to a fight, and I just wanted to go home and forget about this whole disaster.”

  “You need to ice your wrist when you get home. It will help to minimize the swelling and bruises.”

  Hunter drew several calming breaths. “It’s taking every ounce of self-discipline I’ve learned over twenty years of training to keep myself in this car.”

  “Why didn’t you kick his ass? That son of a bitch put his hands on her!” Sam ranted at Hunter. She wasn’t mad at him—she was livid that Heath accosted me and disenchanted Robbie stayed behind.

  “I was there, Sam, I know exactly what he did. It would’ve been satisfying in the moment—more gratifying that you can imagine—but tomorrow when the police came knocking on my door, I would have had a lot to answer for. I have been taught for years that martial arts provides the ability to fight, but with ability comes responsibility. I believe in only using my skills to defend and protect when all other options are exhausted. Negotiation, diplomacy, even walking away is more honorable and requires more strength of character than using force.”

  “But he was hurting her!” Sam argued, unsatisfied with the answer.

  “I didn’t know he was hurting her at the time, I thought he was just restraining her. Everleigh didn’t share that pertinent piece of information with me. The situation was riding the razor’s edge between non-confrontational resolution and violence. I erred on the side of caution and Heath backed down; I made the right decision.” Hunter sounded as if he was trying to convince himself more than Sam.

  “Well I’m glad your honor is intact, even if Ev’s wrist isn’t,” Sam sniped viciously. It was a hit below the belt as far as I was concerned.

  “Sam, enough. I’m fine, let it go,” I cajoled, “Hunter, thank you for intervening and defending me. I was relieved you kept the situation calm and stable. You’re right; a brawl would have only caused a volatile situation to deteriorate further.” I placed my hand on his arm to reassure him that his course of action was my preference as well.

  “I promised that I would protect you. The best way to do that was diffuse the situation and remove you both from danger.” He sounded more comfortable with his decision this time, which reassured me.

  “How could he have stayed there?” Sam asked resentfully, thinking of Robbie.

  “Don’t be too hard on him, Sam. He’s probably afraid of retaliation. Fear is op
pressive, often preventing good people from acting righteously,” Hunter suggested. “Give Robbie the opportunity to apologize and explain.”

  “How can he justify his choice? I’m hesitant to commit myself to someone who stands by idly like Robbie did. He stayed, which is tantamount to condoning Heath’s conduct.”

  When we pulled into our complex, I directed Hunter to our building and we all walked inside to our apartment door.

  “Do you want to come in?” I invited Hunter.

  “I shouldn’t. It has been a long night and you have work tomorrow.”

  “Night Hunter, thanks for your help. I apologize for being a bitch, you handled the Heath thing admirably,” Sam apologized for her misplaced anger.

  “No apology needed.”

  Hunter pulled Sam into a one-armed hug. I turned to Hunter, placing my hand on his chest.

  “Thank you again. I meant what I said in the car, you did the right thing tonight.”

  He was still stewing, so I tried to lighten the mood.

  “I’m only disappointed you intervened before I got to practice my bad-ass moves. I was ready to palm strike under his chin and hook my fingers into an eye gouge.”

  Hunter chuckled at my bloodlust. “You remember your number one goal during a confrontation, don’t you?”

  “Kick him in the nuts?” I teased. “Run, I haven’t forgotten. However, had he not released me I would have been forced to ‘create’ my opportunity.” I winked saucily.

  “You little minx.”

  He pulled me against his body engulfing me in his arms.

  “I’m glad you’re feeling better. Ice your wrist, hopefully it won’t bother you at work tomorrow. Goodnight.”

  He placed a kiss on the top of my head before releasing me.

  As I entered the apartment, Sam was standing next to the kitchen table reading her phone.

  “Robbie texted me ten times in the last thirty minutes. What should I do?”

  “You should forgive him, but be honest about your concerns. Tell him you were disappointed he didn’t address his frat buddy’s behavior and diffuse the situation. Let him know that you were hurt when he chose to stay. If he can handle the truth and apologize, you two should be fine.” Sam was nodding along with me. “School will be over in two months and the frat will be out of his life…out of your life. You can’t be irritated with him for being afraid of Heath, that guy is huge. Hunter has twenty years of martial arts training to give him confidence against a bully like Heath. It isn’t fair to hold Robbie to the same standard. Give him a chance to make this right if you still want a future with him.”

  “You’re right.” Sam sighed tiredly, “I’ll text Robbie back and let him know I want to talk tomorrow.”

  “Good plan.”

  I grabbed an ice pack out of the freezer before heading to bed, ready to put the evening behind me.

  During the last self-defense class, Hunter extended an invitation for all of us to continue our training at any of the Higosha Dojos. We could join their Krav Maga classes at no cost for as long as the attacks persisted. He also generously offered a fifty-percent discount in any future classes. It was an impressive gesture by Hunter and his family, proof of their commitment to our safety. Though Sam was glad that she had participated in the seminar, she didn’t want to continue studying martial arts. I, on the other hand, had grown to love the training. It was great exercise and I felt more confident knowing basic defense skills. I was seriously considering taking the Krav Maga class on Monday nights.

  Hunter and I grew closer over the next six weeks. Next to Sam, he was the person I confided in the most, I had come to count on him as a part of my daily life. When I told him about losing my mom, he asked about my father and I told him I never met him. When I was a senior, my mom told the truth and let me make the decision if I ever wanted to find him.

  Mom had been dating my father for almost a year when she discovered she was pregnant. When she informed him, he freaked and told her she had to have an abortion. My mom refused to abort me, much to his dismay. He finally admitted he was married with no intentions of leaving his wife—mom was just a “pleasant diversion.” She was shocked and furious; she would never knowingly enter a relationship with an attached man. He swore that if my mom decided to keep me, he would never offer assistance, monetary or otherwise. Mom stopped seeing him, but after I was born, she contacted him for support. He refused to help and when she threatened to take him to court, he countered by threatening to fight her for full custody and said she would never see me again once he won. My mom had no money, family, or resources to fund a legal battle. Frightened he would follow through on his threats, she never pursued support. She told me his name, but I never intended to find him—I want to know him even less than he wanted to know me.

  In turn, Hunter told me about his parents and siblings. He shared the influence his father and martial arts had on his life. His respect for his father and closeness to his family were a defining part of who he was. He told me stories about his semester abroad in Japan, where he felt like Andre the Giant, but it shaped his views of the world and his appreciation for cultural differences. When he shared about losing his best friend in a drunk driving accident, my heart broke.

  Hunter and I shared our favorites—movies, food, and literature. The best were our most embarrassing moments. For me—the first time I had sex in high school and I refused to take off my underwear. For Hunter—wetting his pants in front of his family and friends during a karate tournament where he failed to block an illegal kick to the bladder. His was much worse and it made me feel better. Although, he did ask me to explain why I refused to remove my panties, which I couldn’t explain to this day. I hypothesized I was too nervous and having them on made me feel safe.

  We shared stupid moments from our day and random thoughts when they popped into our heads. We continued our banter with a vengeance, and I still had not managed to get the last word—but I was getting closer to a win, or so I hoped.

  I asked Hunter why he was single, if there was some pitiful sob story of heartbreak he was withholding. He denied any tragedy, but said he was at a place in his life where the type of committed relationship he wanted would not be possible; it was vague but I let him get away with it. He lobbed the question back at me, and I said I had yet to meet a man I wanted, who wanted me, and whom I could envision spending the rest of my life with—without the desire to smother him with a pillow while he slept.

  Hunter’s hugs wiped away my bad days, and when he kissed my head I felt treasured. In a perfect world Hunter would share my sexual attraction and we would have an epic romance, but reality didn’t follow the plot of romantic comedies. I accepted the best friend alternative with gratitude for the grace it was.

  Chapter Nine

  * * *

  "Assumptions are the termites of relationships.” -Henry Winkler

  I decided to join the Krav Maga class at Higosha Dojo on Monday nights, and met with Hanshi Rosati, who graciously welcomed me. He was already aware that the Charles family offered classes to the seminar participants, which saved me from the awkward “this is supposed to be free” conversation.

  I quickly fell in love with Krav Maga—the class was fast-paced, providing a cardio workout mixed with the defense training. The power and form of my punches, elbows, kicks, and knees had improved greatly after only two classes. By my third class, Sensei Alex said I was ready to practice with a fellow student. He requested Josh, one of the more advanced students, to partner with me, to my delight. Josh was the most proficient student in the class, in his late-twenties, and stood six feet tall with a beautifully sculpted body, and rich chocolate brown eyes that conveyed warmth. His medium brown hair was cut short in a style that suited him.

  Krav Maga involved close holds and maneuvers that resembled wrestling, and we often found ourselves twisted together, frequently the result of a misstep on my part. Being sweaty and tangled with a stranger could become extremely uncomfortable, but Josh put m
e at ease. He was patient as we practiced and helped correct my errors without superiority. In one of my more humiliating moments, I got to know Josh intimately—we were working on a skill where Josh grabbed me from behind with his arm wrapped around my neck. I planted my feet shoulder width apart, grabbed his forearm with both hands, leaned forward, and used momentum to flip him over my shoulder, which resulted in him landing on his butt with his back against my shins. Everything went as planned. Unfortunately, I forgot to release his arm and, as my momentum continued, I fell head first over his shoulder, landing with my face in his lap and my hips resting on his shoulder. The force of my landing pushed his upper body back to the mat in a clothed approximation of the classic 69 position. As if this was not bad enough, I managed to knock the wind out of us both. Little Josh—respectably sized Josh to be more accurate—began to stir before I did. I’m not sure who was more embarrassed, but I could not hold Josh’s response against him. It was an involuntary reaction to the position, a position that was completely my fault. I rolled off and stood as casually as possible, extending my arm to assist him to his feet. When he grabbed my hand, our eyes met and we both lost it. We were laughing so hard we fell back to the floor, side-by-side. Wiping my eyes, I turned my head to Josh.

  “Sorry, I guess you weren’t ready for the advanced maneuver. Don’t worry, you’ll catch on eventually.”

  Josh’s deep laugh filled the dojo. “You should have warned me you were masquerading as a beginner,” Josh continued my joke with a smile. “I believe it’s customary to buy you dinner now.”

  “You should, after the way you manhandled me,” I said with mock seriousness.

  “I’m fairly certain you were the one doing the manhandling.” Josh winked. “Nonetheless, I reaped the benefits, so I owe you. How about dinner this weekend?”

  “I’m free Saturday.”

  “It’s a date. Would you like me to pick you up?”