Hunter
Chapter Eight
Hunter
A s local business owners filed in, the Pine Haven conference room buzzed with energy. I stood at the front, watching Amelia greet each arrival. Mrs. Morgan from the hardware store who’d supplied Pine Haven since opening day, old Joe Murray, whose brewery had started in the resort’s basement, faces that carried decades of shared history. Two days after her father’s hospitalization, she looked exhausted but determined. The morning sun caught her hair as she laughed at something Marie from the bakery said, and my heart did that familiar flip.
Focus, Miller.
“Thanks for coming, everyone,” I began once everyone sat down. “Pine Haven isn’t just a resort. It’s the heart of this community. And right now, that heart needs your help.”
Twenty faces looked back at me—shopkeepers, restaurant owners, local artisans. People whose livelihoods were intertwined with Pine Haven’s success. I saw the worry in their eyes, but something stronger too—determination.
“We’re planning a weekend festival,” I continued, clicking through my presentation. “Not just at the resort, but throughout town. A celebration of everything that makes Evergreen special.”
“And how will that help?” Tom Parker, the sporting goods store owner, asked skeptically. His family had outfitted Pine Haven’s ski rentals for three generations.
“By showing potential investors what they’d be destroying,” Amelia stepped forward, her shoulder brushing mine. The contact sent electricity through me, even now. “This isn’t just about saving Pine Haven. It’s about protecting our entire community from corporate vultures.”
Her passion was contagious. I watched the room’s energy shift as she outlined her vision—local vendors setting up stalls, hiking tours showcasing the mountains, and evening concerts in the town square. Mrs. Morgan started taking notes. Joe Murray nodded thoughtfully, and even Tom’s skeptical expression softened.
“We’ll need everyone’s participation,” I added. “Marie, your pastries are legendary—the Hendersons drive up from the city just for your bear claws. Tom, those sunset hiking tours you used to run? People still talk about how you helped them spot their first eagle.”
The meeting evolved into a brainstorming session. Ideas flew back and forth—Carol from the art gallery suggested painting classes on the deck where she’d met her husband thirty years ago. Joe proposed taste-testing events featuring recipes passed down through Evergreen families.
“This could work,” Tom said, his skepticism melting. “Remind people what makes us special.”
“Exactly.” I pulled up the next slide. “And we’ve already got media coverage lined up. Local news, travel bloggers—legitimate ones,” I added, seeing Amelia tense at the word ‘blogger.’ The memory of Alexis Smith’s hit piece was still fresh.
As the meeting wrapped up, enthusiasm replaced doubt. People lingered, forming committees and volunteering resources. The energy felt like the old days Amelia had described when Pine Haven hosted town meetings that turned into community celebrations.
I felt Amelia watching me as I moved between groups, coordinating details. She’d shed some of the tension from the past few days, drawing strength from the community’s response.
“You’re good at this,” she whispered when we finally had a moment alone. “Getting people to believe.”
“Easy when you believe in what you’re fighting for.” I reached for her hand, relieved when she didn’t pull away. The memory of our kiss in her office still lingered. “How’s your father?”
“Better. They’re talking about releasing him tomorrow.” She squeezed my fingers. “He keeps asking about you.”
“Yeah?”
“Says he knew you’d take care of things.” Her eyes met mine, soft with something that stirred an ache I couldn’t name.“He’s not wrong.”
Before I could respond, Sophie appeared with a stack of permits. “Mr. Miller? The events board needs these signed.”
Right. Back to work.
The day passed in a blur of planning and phone calls. By sunset, the festival was taking shape. Local businesses pledged support, volunteers signed up, and social media buzzed with excitement I hoped Crystal Ridge couldn’t ignore.
I found Amelia on our deck—and somehow it had become our deck—watching the sun color the mountains gold.
“Penny for your thoughts?”
She smiled as I joined her at the railing, and for a moment, I saw echoes of that girl from the high school debate club. “Just thinking about how different you are from what I expected.”
“Oh?”
“When you first came here, I thought you were just another corporate fixer. All strategy and no heart.” She turned to face me, the dying light softening her features. “I’ve never been so happy to be wrong.”
The way she looked at me like I was something precious and surprising made it hard to breathe. I stepped closer, drawn to her like gravity. The memory of her in my arms two days ago made my hands itch to pull her close again.
“Amelia—”
A throat cleared behind us. Sophie stood in the doorway, looking apologetic. I noticed how often she appeared during our private moments.
“Sorry to interrupt, but this just came for Ms. Horton. Marked urgent.”
Amelia took the envelope, frowning as she opened it. I watched her face pale as she read, all the warmth from moments ago vanishing.
“What is it?”
Wordlessly, she handed me the letter. The message was brief, composed of letters cut from magazines:
Stop the festival or watch your father have another accident. This time, he won’t survive. And neither will lover boy’s brakes. You have 24 hours to cancel everything.
I snatched the envelope from Amelia’s hands, checking the postmark. “This was delivered by hand.”
“Hunter—”
“Which means whoever sent it is close.” My mind raced, cataloging everyone who’d been in and out of Pine Haven today. Sophie’s too-frequent appearances suddenly took on new significance. “They’re watching us right now.”
Amelia’s hand found mine, steadying me. The role reversal wasn’t lost on me—her comforting me when I was supposed to protect her.
“We’re not canceling,” she said firmly.
“Amelia, your father—”
“Is safer with everyone watching.” Her eyes met mine, fierce and determined. The same look she’d had defending our debate team’s championship. “Think about it. The festival means crowds, media attention, and witnesses. They can’t operate in the open.”
She was right. Of course, she was right. It’s one thing I was falling for—her ability to see straight through problems to solutions.
Falling for. The realization hit me like a physical blow.
“Hunter?” Her voice softened. “Where did you go just now?”
“Nowhere.” I pulled her closer, needing her warmth. “Just thinking about how remarkable you are.”
A blush colored her cheeks, but before she could respond, voices approached the deck. We stepped apart as Tom Parker and Marie appeared, arms full of event plans.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Marie’s knowing smile suggested she’d seen more than we’d intended. She’d known Amelia since high school bake sales. “But we had some ideas about security for the festival.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Security?”
“Town’s pretty small,” Tom said gruffly. “Word gets around about threats. We take care of our own.”
Amelia’s breath caught. I felt her surprise at this show of support, though she shouldn’t have been surprised. She’d spent years helping these people, remembering their children’s names, and supporting their businesses.
“Tom’s son-in-law is ex-military,” Marie added. “He’s got friends willing to help—plainclothes security, surveillance. No charge.”
“And my boys will watch the parking areas,” Tom continued, his gruff voice softening. “Every business owner here has skin in this game. We’re not letting some corporate vultures destroy our town.”
I watched Amelia blink back tears. “Thank you,” she whispered.
I saw what Crystal Ridge had missed as they outlined their security plans. They thought Pine Haven was vulnerable and isolated. They didn’t understand that threatening the resort had only strengthened its community bonds.
“We should move the main stage,” Tom said, pointing to the layout. His years of running mountain rescue missions showed in his strategic thinking. “Better sight lines, easier to secure.”
“And the vendor stalls,” Marie added, her businesswoman’s mind working. “If we arrange them in a circle instead of rows—”
“Creates a natural barrier,” I finished, impressed. “Plus, better flow for foot traffic.”
We spent the next hour reworking the layout, transforming the festival grounds into a fortress disguised as a celebration. Each entry point would be monitored, and every dark corner would be lit. The community’s protectiveness wrapped around Pine Haven like a shield.
When Tom and Marie left, Amelia sank into one of the deck chairs, looking overwhelmed.
“I never expected...” she gestured vaguely at the plans, showing how many people were willing to fight for her family’s legacy.
“Of course, they’re fighting for you.” I kneeled beside her chair, taking her hands in mine. Her fingers were cold despite the warm evening. “You’ve spent years fighting for them.”
She smiled tremulously. “We’re doing this?”
“We’re doing this.” I brought her hands to my lips, kissing her knuckles. “And Amelia? They’re right. We protect our own.”
Her eyes darkened at the possessiveness in my voice. “Is that what I am? One of your own?”
The question held weight beyond the festival, beyond the threats. I stood, pulling her up with me. She came willingly into my space, her eyes holding questions I desperately wanted to answer.
“You’re everything,” I admitted roughly.
She swayed toward me, and this time I didn’t hesitate. My lips found hers, soft and sweet. She melted into me, her hands sliding up my chest as I pulled her closer. For one perfect moment, the world narrowed to just us, to the feeling of finally having her in my arms once again—
“Ms. Horton!” Sophie burst onto the deck. “Someone’s broken into your father’s room at the hospital!”
We broke apart, both breathing hard, the urgency of Sophie’s news pulling us back to reality. But the warmth of the kiss lingered, a reminder of what we were fighting for.
***
The hospital corridor felt longer this time, Amelia’s hand gripping mine as we rushed toward her father’s room. Security guards milled around, taking statements from nurses. Each face we passed held questions we couldn’t answer.
Arthur sat upright in bed, looking annoyed rather than frightened. “It’s nothing,” he insisted as Amelia flew to his side. “They were searching for something.”
“Searching?” My instincts flared. “What were they looking for?”
“The letters you mentioned earlier,” Amelia said, turning to her father. “The ones in Mom’s safe—is that what they wanted?”
Arthur’s expression darkened. “They won’t find them there. After what happened with Morrison yesterday... I had Michael empty the safe this morning. Brought everything here.” He gestured weakly toward the closet. “Thought they wouldn’t look in a hospital room.”
I moved to the small closet, retrieving a worn leather briefcase. Inside, a stack of yellowed envelopes sat untouched, smelling faintly of the cedar drawer where Margaret Horton had kept her secrets.
“Your mother...” Arthur’s voice carried the weight of secrets kept too long. “She knew things. About land deals, about accidents that weren’t accidents.” His eyes met mine. “About your father, Hunter.”
My chest tightened. “What about my father?”
“She was on the county board when Crystal Ridge first came to town. Kept records of everything that seemed suspicious. After the accident...” He broke off coughing, monitors beeping in protest.
“Dad, please,” Amelia squeezed his hand. “You need to rest.”
“No, you need to know.” He caught his breath, determination clear in his face. “All this time, I’ve kept them safe. But now...” He glanced at the briefcase in my hands. “Get them somewhere secure. They’re the only proof left.”
Amelia took the letters with trembling hands. As she did, a small key fell from between the envelopes, landing on the hospital floor with a tiny sound that seemed to echo.
“What’s this?”
“Safe deposit box,” Arthur whispered, his voice growing weaker. “Your mother’s final insurance policy. Everything she couldn’t put in letters... it’s all there.”
The implications hit me hard. All this time, the evidence we needed had been within reach. Evidence that might explain what happened to my father.
A nurse appeared, frowning at Arthur’s elevated heart rate. “He needs rest,” she insisted.
In the hallway, Amelia clutched the letters to her chest like a shield. “We need to get these somewhere secure.”
“My place,” I decided. “They won’t expect that.”
She nodded, then surprised me by stepping into my arms. I held her close, breathing in her familiar scent, feeling her heart race against my chest.
“I’m scared,” she whispered.
“I know.” I pressed a kiss to her hair. “But we’re close to something. They wouldn’t be this desperate if we weren’t.”
Her phone buzzed. Another text, but this time with a video attachment. Security footage from the hospital parking lot showed us arriving earlier, our every move tracked.
The message read: Found what we needed. Check your car.
We raced to the parking lot. Under my windshield wiper sat an envelope identical to the one delivered at Pine Haven. Inside, another cut-and-paste message: Nice try with the festival. But we’re done playing games. Those letters won’t save you. Nothing will.
Ask Hunter about October 15th, the night his father died. Ask him what happened to the brake lines.
You have until midnight to cancel everything. Or we take away the things you love.
One.
By.
One.
Below the message was a photo I’d never wanted to see again—my father’s car, wrapped around a tree. And in the background, barely visible, a figure I recognized.
Me.
Amelia’s sharp intake of breath told me she saw it, too. Her hand tightened on mine, but I felt a slight tremor in her fingers.
“Hunter?” Her voice shook. “What aren’t you telling me?”
The answer stuck in my throat. The truth about that night—a truth I’d buried so deep I’d almost convinced myself it wasn’t real—could destroy everything we’d built.
The trust in her eyes, the way she’d kissed me on the deck, how she’d let me hold her through all of this... it could all vanish with one explanation.
This photo brought it all back. The rain that night. The sound of squealing brakes. My father’s voice on the phone telling me to meet him that he’d discovered something about Crystal Ridge. Something that would change everything.
I’d arrived too late.
Or so I’d let everyone believe.
The truth was worse. Much worse.
And Crystal Ridge knew it.
They’d been waiting for this moment to use my past to destroy my future. To destroy Amelia’s trust in me just when she needed it most.
The distant sound of a car door slamming made us both jump. We were too exposed here in the parking lot, too vulnerable.
But the real threat wasn’t from Crystal Ridge anymore.
It was from the secrets I’d kept, even from myself.
And now they were coming for everything I loved.