by Tracy Wolff
Hunter pulls away with a grin, nodding to whoever it was that whistled. Then he picks Lucy up again and says, “I’d like you to meet Emerson. She’s a good friend of mine. Emerson, this is Lucy.” He ruffles his nephew’s hair again. “And this is Brent.”
“It’s good to meet you guys,” I say, smiling at both of them.
They smile back, Lucy a little more enthusiastically than Brent, but he’s polite, if wary.
“I like your hair,” Lucy says, reaching out to pull on one of my curls. She laughs delightedly when she lets go and it boings right back into place.
“And I like yours. Your bow is very pretty.”
“I know!” She taps the hot pink sequined bow excitedly. “Uncle Hunter got it for me when he was in Oakland last week. It’s my favorite.”
“I think it’s my favorite, too,” I tell her with a grin. “Every girl needs pink sequins.”
Hunter pulls me against his side, drops another quick kiss on the corner of my mouth. “I don’t know. I think you look pretty great wearing my team’s colors.”
“You should have told me to dress up!” I hiss at him.
“Why? I think you look great. Doesn’t she, Lucy?”
“She’d look better in your number, Uncle Hunter.”
He laughs again, a loud, booming sound that fills up the suite and the nervous place inside of me. “You’re right, Luce. I’m going to have to do something about that.”
Since things with his niece seem to be going okay, I turn to Brent. “How are you doing?” I ask him, finally holding my hand out for him to shake.
“Good. But I’m hungry. Marta said we had to wait for you.”
“Brent—” Hunter starts, but I stop him with a hand on his hip.
“I’m sorry about that.” I nod toward the buffet. “Wanna go do some damage?”
“Yeah!”
“Why don’t you two head on over? Emerson and I will catch up.” As soon as they walk away, Hunter moves the two of us toward a small, older woman who is standing a few feet away. “This is Marta, the kids’ nanny. She’ll be here during the game so you don’t have to worry about taking care of them.”
“Oh. I thought—” I cut myself off, flushing.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, and though he’s gentle, it’s obvious he’s not going to let it go until I answer him.
“I guess I thought I would be watching them. But, I get it. We haven’t known each other that long and they’re your—”
“Shut up,” he growls, cupping my face in his hands and bending down until we’re nose to nose. “I totally trust you with them. I just know they can be a handful and if you weren’t interested, I didn’t want you to feel saddled with them.”
“I think I can handle it for a three hour game,” I tell him with a roll of my eyes. “Besides, I like kids.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. And those two seem great.”
“I think so.” He pauses, like he’s considering his words. “I was going to send Marta home after the game and take you guys out to dinner. But if you’d like, I can give her the afternoon off.”
“It’s up to you. Whatever—”
“No. It’s up to you. I can tell the kids will be fine either way, so you tell me what you want.”
“I’d like a chance to get to know them, so…”
“Okay, then. I’ll give Marta the afternoon off.”
“While you do that, I’ll go corral the kids.” A glance over at the buffet table tells me that might be harder than it sounds as Brent has created a mountain of tortilla chips on his plate and is getting ready to douse the whole thing with a huge ladle of queso. But the way the chips are sitting guarantees that melted cheese is going to end up all over him and the floor.
“How about a bowl?” I ask, quickly moving up behind him. “For dunking.”
“We checked,” Lucy tells me. “There aren’t any.”
“How about down near the salads.” I walk that way. “Did you check there?”
“No.”
Seconds later I come back with a wide, shallow bowl and hold it out to Brent. He grins at me and mumbles, “Thanks.” Then he fills the thing to the brim with queso.
Hunter laughs when he sees what we’ve been up to. “Queso again?” he asks. “You know there are other things on the buffet to eat.”
“I like queso,” Brent tells him.
“Yeah, I think we all got that.” Hunter bumps knuckles with him, then picks Lucy up and drops a kiss on the top of her head. “Okay, so I’ve got to go throw the ball around the field a little, maybe make a touchdown. You guys good here?”
Lucy looks up at me. “Will you braid my hair?”
“You bet.”
“We’re good, Uncle Hunter. Now go kick some Panther butt!”
“Sounds like a plan to me.” He helps us carry our plates over to an empty table, stopping every few feet to introduce me to someone else. Once we’re all settled, he high-fives the kids before turning to me. “Do I get a good luck kiss?” he asks.
“You get a good luck high five,” I answer, just like the kids. Then I lean forward and whisper in his ear, “But if you win, you can have a congratulatory blow job, so…”
“Oh, I’ll win,” he tells me, taking his high five and then stealing a kiss, too. “And I will hold you to that.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
He grins wickedly. “Not as much as I am.”
And then he’s out the door and I’m left with a room full of very curious people, two adorable children and the biggest bowl of queso I’ve ever seen.
All in all, it could be a lot worse.
Chapter 23
Hunter keeps his promise, destroying the Panthers with three touchdown passes—all caught by Shawn, incidentally—and two end zone runs that leave the score at 35–13. And considering three of the touchdowns were scored in the last quarter, it was a closer game than it sounds. One that had Brent and me on the edge of our seats, while Lucy spent most of the game changing her Barbie’s outfit. And cheering when the TVs in the corners of the room showed her uncle’s face.
The family suite clears out slowly after the game, the people in it waiting for their husbands/boyfriends/fathers/brothers to make it out of the locker room. Brent, Lucy and I spend the time curled up on big chairs in the corner of the room, playing a bastardized version of twenty questions. While we talk, I braid Lucy’s hair, as promised.
“Favorite color?” Lucy asks, bouncing up and down in her seat. It makes doing her braid a challenge, but I do my best.
“Easy,” Brent says. “Red.”
I start to say “blue,” because I love how many variations there are of the color. But, at the last second I change it to, “Green,” though I’m not sure why.
But Lucy nods sagely. “Just like Uncle Hunter’s eyes,” she says. “I get it.”
I have nothing to say to that, especially since there’s a part of me that thinks she might be right. “What about you?” I ask instead. “What’s your favorite color?”
“Pink,” she and Brent answer at the same time.
“Okay, my turn,” he says. “Favorite movie?”
“Moana!” Lucy shouts, once again bouncing up and down.
“Ooooh, good one,” I tell her. “I think…Dirty Dancing is mine.”
Brent makes a gagging noise. “What is it about girls and love? I just don’t get it.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not going to be the one to explain it to you,” I tell him as I peel the hairband off my wrist and wrap it around the end of Lucy’s French braid. “Besides, you haven’t told us your favorite movie yet.”
“The Avengers. Or maybe Avengers: Age of Ultron. They’re both wicked cool.”
“They really are,” I agree. “And since it’s my question, I’m going to go off of your answer. Favorite superhero?”
“Oh no!” Lucy says, face frozen in horror. “You didn’t really ask that, did you?”
“I’m sorry,” I apologize, tho
ugh I’m not really sure what for. “Is that a bad question?”
“No!” Brent all but shouts.
“Yes!” Lucy cries at the exact same time. “We’ll be here forever now.”
“No, we won’t!” Brent says. “But it depends what universe you’re talking about.”
“What universe?” I’m baffled, considering I thought we were talking about our universe. Not to mention, I thought I was throwing out a pretty easy question.
“Yeah. If we’re in the DC universe, definitely Batman. But if we’re in Marvel, I’m going to say Black Panther. It used to be Ironman, because Tony Stark, obviously. But Black Panther is almost as cool even though he doesn’t have the kind of money Ironman does. So I say Black Panther. Although, if you go with the Marvel movie universe, then I’m a Coulson fan, even though he’s not technically a superhero. In fact—”
“This is what I meant when I said we’ll be here forever.” Lucy sounds—and looks—like an annoyed thirteen-year-old girl. The only thing missing are the exaggerated eye rolls, and it’s all I can do to keep from cracking up.
“Well, who would you choose?” Brent asks impatiently.
She looks at him like he’s an idiot. “Thor, obviously. He’s so pretty.”
And that’s when I lose it, because…yes. Just yes. I was going to say Wonder Woman myself, but Lucy is totally right. Thor is so pretty.
Before I can back her up, though, I glance up and realize Hunter is standing there—arms folded over his chest and a huge grin on his face—watching us.
“Are you done already?” Lucy asks when she sees him, and she sounds so disappointed I can’t help smiling, too. Any more than I can help the warmth that starts spreading inside of me. She is absolutely adorable and so is her older brother. No wonder Hunter is so close to them.
“I am sorry to disappoint,” he says, walking over to drop a kiss on my cheek before reaching for his niece. “I can come back in a little while if you’d prefer?”
“Yes!” Lucy shouts, all excited, and I crack up.
“Yes?” Hunter asks, pretending shock. Then he picks her up and hangs her upside-down. “You sure about that? You sure you don’t want to rethink your answer?”
Brent starts gathering up their backpacks. As he does, he rolls his eyes at me as if to say, “Can you believe these two?” The warm feeling inside me grows.
Eventually Hunter puts her down and the two of them walk hand in hand down to the special players’ parking lot while Brent sticks close to me, continuing his internal debate about who is the coolest superhero—and why Agent Coulson really should be considered one.
“Where do you want to eat?” Hunter asks as he gets us all settled in his truck. “What’s everyone in the mood for?”
“Hamburgers!” Brent shouts from the backseat.
“I want spaghetti!”
“You always want spaghetti. It’s my turn to choose.”
“I never get to choose! Uncle Hunter—”
“Enough, guys! There are restaurants that manage to have both burgers and spaghetti, so stop or I’ll take you to my favorite sushi place.”
That shuts them both right up, which I’m guessing means Hunter isn’t one for idle threats. Well, that and they don’t like sushi.
He glances at me then, a wicked light in his eyes as he says, “We won.”
“I saw.” I fold my hands in my lap, all prim and proper.
“So when do I get my prize?”
“Some time after spaghetti and hamburgers, I assume.”
“And dessert!” Brent butts in from the backseat. “Don’t forget dessert!”
“Oh, I won’t,” Hunter says with another wicked look. “I definitely won’t.”
—
An hour later, our food has just hit the table when Hunter’s phone rings. He’s in the middle of telling a ridiculous story about the kids’ “Uncle Tanner,” and he moves to reject the call. But something on the screen must not be good, because his face turns grim and he excuses himself.
The kids don’t seem to notice, and they fill in for him—telling me one ridiculous Tanner Green story after another—as we wait for him to come back. But we’re at a small restaurant and I can see him through the front glass of the window, and whatever news he’s getting isn’t good.
He doesn’t react much—he is still Hunter Browning and we are in public—but for long seconds he seems to crumple in on himself. His hand shoots out and he braces himself against the building, like it’s the only thing keeping him from falling.
I don’t know what to do. I want to go to him, but I don’t want the kids to see him like this—and neither does he, obviously, or he wouldn’t have gone outside to take the call. I keep a close eye on him as the kids dig into their food, watching as he hangs up the phone and then bends over. Kind of braces his hands on his knees as he sucks in deep breaths.
And that’s it. That’s all I can take. “Brent, can you watch your sister while I run to the bathroom?” I ask.
“Sure, no problem.”
It’s a small restaurant and the owners obviously know Hunter and the kids, so I don’t feel bad slipping out of the booth. Besides, I’ll be able to see them from outside.
But before I can take more than a step toward the front door, Hunter comes back in. He’s pale and shaking a little and when he sees me, he grabs on to my hand like a lifeline.
“What’s wrong?” I ask. “Can I help?”
“We need to go. My sister—” His voice breaks. “My sister just got rushed to the hospital.”
“Oh my God. What can I—”
He pulls out his wallet, then nods to the waitress walking by. “Can you take care of paying while I go talk to the kids?”
“Yeah, of course.”
I do as he asks, watching him and the kids the whole time I wait for the waitress to put together our bill. Lucy starts to cry, and Brent looks scared, but they also both look…resigned. For the first time, I wonder if maybe this isn’t some acute emergency that will pass, but rather some long-term thing the kids and Hunter are already intimately familiar with.
Just the idea makes my heart break for all of them. Hunter hasn’t said that much about his family during the time we’ve been together, but when he does mention his sister, it’s obvious he adores her.
The waitress doesn’t seem to understand the urgency of the situation—despite the fact that we’re literally walking out in the middle of dinner—so in the end, I shove a hundred and twenty dollars at her and head back to the table.
“Do you want to take your food?” Hunter is asking them as they slide out of the booth, but both kids just shake their heads.
“Okay. Come on,” he says, hands on both their shoulders as he steers us out of the restaurant. “I know this sucks, but I’m going to call Marta in the car, okay, guys? I’ll have her meet us at the hospital and—”
“I don’t want Marta!” Lucy says, and the tears start all over again. “I want Mommy!”
“I know, baby. That’s why Mommy’s at the hospital. So she can get better—”
“She’s not getting better.” Brent chimes in for the first time, voice bitter and face angrier than any ten-year-old should ever be. “She’s never going to get better.”
Lucy starts wailing then and Hunter stops in the middle of the parking lot. He just stops, looking shaken and frustrated and nearly as angry as Brent. He’s clearly at a loss as to what to do and I can’t stand seeing him like this.
“How about you come to my place instead?” I ask, putting a hand on Hunter’s back for support. “I’ll make milkshakes and popcorn and we can watch a movie while your uncle goes to the hospital. How does that sound?”
Lucy grabs on to me, wrapping her little arms around my waist so tightly that she nearly knocks me off balance. “Yes, yes, yes. Please, Uncle Hunter, can we go with Emerson. Please?”
His eyes meet mine and he’s obviously at a loss for words. It’s obvious he wants to say yes, obvious he wants to get to the hospit
al as soon as possible, but at the same time he doesn’t want to put too much on me.
“It’s okay,” I tell him, leaning forward and pressing a kiss on his shoulder. “I’ve got this.”
He searches my face, his green eyes dark and wild and sad, so sad. “You sure?”
“Yeah, absolutely.”
“I don’t know how long—”
“Don’t worry about it. They can spend the night and you, or Marta, can pick them up in the morning before school.” For about the millionth time I wish my car was working, so I could drop them off at school—one more thing that Hunter wouldn’t have to worry about.
“That sounds perfect,” he says as we get the kids loaded in the back of the car. “But if it’s too much trouble—”
“It’s not,” I tell him. “They’re good kids. Drop us off and then go be with your sister.”
He looks pained. “About that—”
“You can tell me later. When she’s better.”
He looks relieved. “Thank you.”
“Nothing to thank me for.” I stretch up on my tippy-toes and press a firm kiss to his mouth. “I like you and your niece and nephew. Taking them for a night is no hardship. So stop worrying about whether or not this is okay and let’s get going. The sooner you drop us at my place, the sooner you can get to your sister.”
He pulls me against him then, in a hug so tight I swear I can feel my ribs crack. But I don’t protest. Instead, I just hug him back as hard as I can, holding on to him as long as I can. Because, for the first time since I met him, Hunter feels fragile beneath my touch.
Chapter 24
Hunter
This isn’t supposed to be happening.
It isn’t supposed to be happening.
Not now.
Not yet.
Not when I just had breakfast with Heather this morning.
Not when I told her I finally have someone I want her to meet.
Not when I still have so much to say to her.
Please God, not yet.