Page 19 of Sunny Undone

“Fuck, it’s an Outlaw, Tanner,” the guy in the middle says to him. “What are they doing here?”

“Heard they fish out here,” the third says.

“Well, I don’t like it,” Tanner says.

I’m so busy looking at them that I don’t watch where I am treading, and a large branch cracks beneath my foot. My last sight of the three men is their heads turning my way as I crouch down where the undergrowth is thicker.

“What was that?” the third man asks.

I cover my mouth with my hand, afraid that even my breathing might give me away. One set of footsteps comes closer, and I stop breathing all together. I’m convinced they’re about to find me when the sharp whip of a loud whistle pierces the air.

“You guys look like sixty percent of the Village People,” I hear Sunny shout.

Then, Ridge’s laughter cracks through the silence.

And the footsteps move away.

There isn’t a part of me that finds any humor in any of this. My knees shake as I force myself to peer out to check the men are gone, and I see their backs disappear down the trail.

I quietly hurry past both living and dead cypress trees, watching my footing, moving as quickly as I can given the urgency of the situation.

The truck is within reach, but there will be a moment I’ll be fully exposed. I pause until I have a clear line of sight to what is happening down the trail. Words are exchanged. I can’t hear what is said. But Sunny offers his fist to Ridge, and Ridge bumps it. Then, Sunny’s arm swings out, then makes contact with the guy wearing sunglasses so hard that I see the sunglasses take flight and end up in the water.

Protectiveness should not be so attractive. Violence certainly not.

I’ve spent my entire academic career believing that disputes are settled by evidence, peer review, policy, and healthy conversation.

Not fists and physical presence.

Yet, there is something so profoundly compelling about a man who chooses to put your safety before his own.

Sunny has also transformed, and I have no idea how it happened. He’s gone from being charming and affable and turned into something fierce. If I thought of him as a golden retriever before, he’s like one of those intense fighting dogs now.

I can’t hear the conversation, but from the fight, it looks like Sunny and Ridge are winning, even though there are only two of them.

Chaos erupts in sharp and disjointed movements.

My hand flies to my mouth.

It’s dreadful and primitive and exactly the kind of behavior civilized society should move beyond.

I should be horrified.

I am horrified.

And yet, I’m sure if my fingers dipped between my thighs, I’d be thoroughly drenched. Sunny had one objective from the moment he realized that all those birds had moved because of people headed our way. And it was to get me out. To protect me by any means necessary.

Everything else has become secondary.

So, I accept the sacrifice he’s making for me and hurry to the truck while everyone is facing away from me. For a second, I debate getting into my camper, but there is glass from the broken window all over the seats, and I’m not sure I can drive it out of here and survive a car chase.

I run around the side of the truck that can’t be seen from farther down the trail. Quietly, I tug the rear passenger door open and then pull it behind me. But I can’t resist watching from the gap between the two seats.

Sunny staggers a step before recovering immediately. Fear slices through my chest as he looks towards the truck, for a moment. When I check the three strangers aren’t looking my way, I raise my hand. I have no idea if he can see me in the darkness of the truck.

But as soon as one of the men turns, I drop to the ground and pray they didn’t see me.

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