by Celia Loren
"It's alright," Danielle says, wrapping her arm around my shoulder.
"No, it's not," I gasp. "I love Hunter so much, and now I have to leave him."
Chapter 22
Hunter
I stretch out on the practice field, leaning down to touch my toes. Even though we had an away game this weekend, I still feel limber and ready to go. Not just my body, but my mind, too. Everything feels clear and focused. Britt's been sick all week so I haven't been able to see her, and I can't wait to tell her. I think she's been being overly careful about not getting me sick, but she knows how important the game is to me right now.
Adam and I fist-bump as he walks by and sits down on the grass next to me. I glance up at the big clock on the back of the building. Almost time for practice, and no sign of Coach. Could he be running late for the first time in his life?
A loud crash causes everyone on the field to glance back toward the building. I look around in confusion for a second, and then realize that the sound is coming from his office. Some of the other seniors and I walk a little closer, and through the window in Coach's office where he can look out onto the practice field, we see him picking things up off his desk and throwing them against the wall. He looks red-faced and furious. I glance at Adam warily. He shakes his head, neither of us aware of anything that could have caused this kind of reaction.
I jog back to my duffel bag that I left on the bench. I better check in with Britt. If anything, she might be able to talk her dad down from this kind of state. I'm about to call her when I see I have a new email from her, sent just five minutes ago. I smile and open it.
Hunter,
I'm so sorry to have to do this over email. You certainly deserve better. I'm leaving. Maybe it's best that you don't know where I'm going, but know that I'll be safe and taken care of. The last few months with you have been the best of my life, but I need to be alone for a while. I've grown up and lived in a ten square mile box for my whole life, and I need to get out and see the world before I settle down. I would say that I hope you understand, but I know that's asking too much, and forgiveness is out of the question.
The world has just begun to see what you are capable of. Keep going. Don't let anything stand in your way.
Britt
What is this bullshit? My face clouds and I call her. Straight to voicemail. I call her again. Again.
Adam's hand on my shoulder. "You okay?"
I shrug him off.
She didn't leave. Impossible.
I feel a great chasm in the earth open at my feet. I want to jump in.
I'll find her, that's it. I'll find her and bring her back here.
Did she really love me? She can't. If she loved me like I love her, she never would have left like this.
It was all a lie.
A crash and splintering glass. I look up to Coach's office and see his computer lying on the grass outside it. He tossed it clean through his window.
He glowers from inside the wreckage of his office, and I see my own feelings mirrored on his face.
Britt's gone. She's really gone.
Chapter 23
Britt
4 years later…
Paula hands Max off to me with a smile. He turned three a few months ago, but he's big for his age and it's a struggle to hold him up as he squirms to get a better look at the shiny studs in my ears.
"Gentle," I remind him, as he tries to grab my earrings with his chubby fingers. "How was he?" I ask her.
"His usual rambunctious self," she answers with a deep belly laugh, her silver and gold bangles merrily chiming on her wrist. Paula's been an absolute life saver to me. I reached out to her out of the blue four years ago, and she accepted me, and then Max, into her life without question or judgement. Without her, I never would have been able to finish my degree while caring for Max. Danielle was right, I did have to choose between English and Psychology, a double major being a bit too taxing for a single mother even with Aunt Paula's support. So I chose Psychology, and on a modified schedule and working through the summer, I was able to graduate summa cum laude from Portland State last spring.
"How was work?" Paula asks, grabbing a glass of water from the fridge.
"Fine," I reply. I've worked at a coffee shop/bookstore downtown ever since I arrived here. I'm beginning to chafe at the edges a bit, but the owners have been flexible, allowing me to work around classes or Max's daycare. "Oh! I caught another couple having sex in the back corner."
Paula giggles. "What did you do?"
"Oh, I just let them finish and then when they walked back out I told them they'd better at least buy something. They were so embarrassed they just grabbed five copies of The Corrections and handed me a credit card."
"Speaking of...how are things with Dan?" Paula asks.
"Mama! Down!" Max demands, and I set him on the floor. He's off and running, and I turn to watch him in the living room.
"Don't kill me...I broke things off," I tell her.
"But he was great!"
"He is great, for someone else. I just didn’t feel the spark."
"And you never will, if you're always comparing men to—"
"I know, I know."
"You should come on this yoga retreat with me!" Paula enthuses.
"I'll think about it," I tell her. I glance at Max. "Does he look at all like my mom?"
"Oh, yeah," Paula nods. "Around the mouth in particular. But then again, so do you."
"He has Hunter's eyes." Paula wraps her arms around my shoulders, but doesn't say anything. I watch Max pick up the TV remote. He doesn't quite understand how to use it, but he's giving it his best shot.
"Max, remember, you have to ask to use the TV," I tell him.
"Football time!" he reminds me.
I smile. "I almost forgot. Today's Sunday, isn't it?" I head into the living room and take the remote from him, clicking through the channels until I find the Tennessee game. Max caught me watching football one day and was immediately entranced. I can feel my heart constrict at the expression on my young son's face every time he watches. His eyes light up, and I can imagine that Hunter was the same way when he was little.
Max is especially excited when his favorite player, Hunter Phillips, comes on the screen. He doesn't know that Hunter is his father, and I have no idea when or how I'll tell him, but the starting quarterback for the Tennessee Titans is the tops as far as he's concerned. And it's not just Max. Hunter has been one of the best quarterbacks in the league since he took over the starting position three years ago. The only thing that could cement his status further would be winning the Super Bowl. The Titans came close last year, but lost in the AFC championship.
I sit down next to Max, who leans his sweet little head into my arm. He claps as the Titans offense takes the field, and I zero in on Hunter's face as he calls an audible. He's so commanding, so sure of himself. I've heard the announcers talk about how the mentorship of Coach Lou McKay has been so important to him, and instrumental in his play, but that's the extent of what I know.
My father has refused to speak to me ever since I left for Oregon and my supposedly off-the-wall Aunt Paula. I sent him an email and a letter telling him that I'd had a son, though omitting the name of his father. I never heard back.
"Can I have, Mama?" Max asks, pointing at the TV as it shows images of the fans wearing Titans gear.
"What, Max?"
"Blue shirt."
"Jersey. They call what the players wear jerseys," I tell him.
"Jerseys," he repeats, nodding thoughtfully. "Like Hunter wears."
The thought of my son in his father's jersey is too much for me to bear. "We'll see, honey."
"For my birthday," Max suggests, looking up at me pleadingly.
"That's not for a while," I tell him with a laugh. "Birthdays are only once a year, and yours is in June."
"Mmph," he grunts unhappily, though his mood turns quickly as Hunter completes a long pass.
"Here you go, darlings," Paula
says, pushing a bowl of baby carrots toward us as she sits in the old armchair next to the couch. "Thank god he wasn't a baseball player," she says, shaking her head at the screen. "They play so many more games."
I smile at her. "Thanks for putting up with it." Paula isn't exactly a football fan, but she knows Max loves them, and I love to feel connected in some way to Hunter, so she doesn't say anything when we put the games on.
"What did that say?" Paula asks, sounding alarmed.
"What? Where?" I frown, confused.
"At the bottom of the screen," she murmurs. "I thought it said something about your father."
"Really?" I ask, squinting at the tiny type on the scrolling sports updates.
"Wait until it comes around again," she says, shifting in her chair to sit closer. We sit in silence for a minute as the scores of other games and an update on an injured player scroll by. "There!" she points, then moves her hand to her mouth as she gasps.
My stomach drops as I read what she saw: Vanover Coach Lou McKay missing home game due to stroke—still in critical condition.
"Mama?" Max asks, tugging at the sleeve of my t-shirt. He can feel how the energy in the room shifted, and he's worried.
"It's okay, honey," I tell him, pulling him onto my lap so that he can't see the tear that just slipped down my cheek. "I have to call someone. What if he—"
"He's a strong man," Paula tells me. "Don't count him out just yet."
Chapter 24
Hunter
They waited to tell me until I came off the field. I can't blame them. They didn't want to mess with my head. I have security escort me to my car as quickly as possible. I didn't even bother showering.
When I show up in the emergency room, they look at me in awe, and don't even ask me to identify myself before telling me where Coach's room is. There are certainly some perks to being a celebrity.
I slowly press open the door to his room. He's hooked up to half a dozen machines, and it's painful to see such an intimidating man look so pale and drawn under his white hospital sheets. I step back out as a doctor approaches down the hallway, clearly alerted to my presence.
"He's stable now," he tells me. "He might have to have a bit of physical therapy to regain full control over his right side, but we're very optimistic."
"Well, he's a tough son of a bitch," I say with a grim smile.
"I don't suppose—" he begins, sounding suddenly shy.
"No problem," I tell him. I recognize that tone of voice. It comes right before they ask for an autograph. He holds out a notepad and I scrawl my name, then head back inside Coach's room.
I pull out a chair and sit next to him, studying the machines as though I have any idea what they mean. I look down at him. His hair is much grayer than when I first met him. When Britt left, it really took a toll. On both of us.
In our grief, mine secret, his restrained, we grew closer. He had a hole in his heart where his child used to be, and I was floundering. I needed guidance, and he stepped up. We've leaned on each other ever since, though I never came clean about my relationship with his daughter. It clearly never mattered much to her, so why should I let it ruin my relationship with her father?
I lean closer when I see his nose twitch. His left eye opens and he stares at me. "You stink," he grunts.
I smile. "That's true, Coach. I was in a bit of a hurry to get here."
"You talk to the doctors?"
"Yup. They said you'll be fine. Might need a little physical therapy."
"All I remember is feeling strange in the pre-game meeting," Coach tells me, closing his eyes again. "And I thought, this is it. I'm done for." He takes a few deep breaths. "And I also thought, why am I such a stubborn old fool?"
"You're not a—" I frown.
"I am. I should have reached out to my daughter before." I grow silent. "I've never even met my grandson." I feel like a bolt of lightning hits my chest. A grandson? I mean, I knew Britt would move on, but I hadn't pictured her with a kid already, though I guess it's been four years now.
"She's married?" I ask, my skin prickling.
"Don't think so," he tells me. "Just some guy out there, I guess. I can't pretend I understand her choices, but then again, it's not my place to judge."
"I've never heard you talk like this before."
"Well, a near death experience will do that to you," he says. "I've gotta at least make peace. My phone in here?" he opens his eyes, and stiffly moves his head around.
"What, now? You're going to call her now?" I ask, feeling alarmed.
"Why not? Life's precious, it seems. Check my pants pocket," he instructs me. I stand and head over to the neat pile of his clothes on the chair in the corner. His phone is indeed in his pocket, and I walk back over and hand it to him. He reaches up with his right hand, and frowns. "Dial it for me, will you? My hand doesn't seem to be working right."
"Ah, okay," I say, my heart beginning to pound in my chest. I know Britt changed her number, but it seems she gave the new one to her father.
"Search my emails. She always sent it to me, but I never saved it." I nod, and search "Britt" in his inbox. The screen fills up with messages from her, and I feel a pang of jealousy. She never tried to get in touch with me. I click one open and scroll quickly through, feeling like I'm intruding. There, at the bottom. I click the number and it automatically calls. I quickly put the phone under Coach's ear.
"It's ringing. I'll check back in later," I tell him quickly as I walk out the door. I can't be in the room when Coach is talking to her, not that he'd want me to be.
I pull out my own phone and scroll through the contacts. I'll get over this situation the same way I get over everything: women. Lots of them. My fingers stop scrolling when they come to Allyson Anders.
She's a country music star and we've been hooking up on and off for several months. I don't want to get into anything serious, and her breasts are fake as hell, but I can't deny that she's absolutely insane in bed. Like certifiable, in a fun way. If she's in town, she'd be the perfect person to snap me out of this funk.
I dial her up. "Allyson," I say as she picks up. "Meet me at my house in an hour?"
Chapter 25
Britt
"Oh my gosh! You've gotten so big!" Danielle exclaims, picking up Max with a grunt.
"Aunt Danielle, want to see my racecars?" Max offers. Danielle came out to visit us in Oregon several times, even as she graduated from Vanover and got a teaching job here in Nashville, so Max is quite familiar with her.
"I do, but first I want to talk to your mom, okay?"
"Okay, after," Max replies reasonably, and Danielle sets him down and he runs off to the corner of the yard with his toys.
"I'm so glad you and your dad made up," she says, sitting down across from me at the old picnic table in my dad's backyard.
"Me too," I reply. "He says the stroke made him see things differently. Not that he really wants to rehash the past, but he says he wants to move forward with me in his life."
"So Max's father is…"
"Some guy in Oregon that it didn't really work out with," I tell her. "I've been pretty fuzzy on the timeline, so I guess it's good that he'd rather just focus on the future."
"Are you staying for a while? I'd love to get to spend some time with you both."
"Actually, my dad was really proud to hear that I'd graduated with my degree in psychology, and when I told him I'd love to get my Ph.D., he floated the idea of him paying for it. Vanover has a great program, so Max and I could stay in the area and he could get to know his grandson."
Danielle's jaw drops, but I can tell she's trying not to get too excited. "That sounds...neat."
"It does. I just don't want my Aunt Paula to feel hurt, after all the help she's given us. I'm going to talk to her tonight about it."
"So you might be moving back to Nashville. This is a pretty small city, you know," Danielle says meaningfully. "And your dad and Hunter are close now, right?"
"They are. We're bou
nd to run into each other at some point," I say, feeling nerves rise up inside me.
Danielle's face grows a bit more serious. "Do you know who Allyson Anders is?"
"Um, a country singer, right? I think I've heard some of her songs on the radio," I reply, confused by the change in topic.
"Yeah, a country singer. She's got a squeaky clean image, or at least she did before last week when she got a DUI and then also tested positive for cocaine."
"Yikes, that's...unfortunate, I guess. So why are you telling me this?"
Danielle takes a deep breath, then leans into her tote bag and takes out a copy of Us Weekly. I stare at the cover photo of Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt, and look up at Danielle in confusion. She reaches over and points to the side panel, at the picture in the bottom right corner. I feel a pang in my chest as I see a picture of Hunter next to a curvy blonde. The caption reads "Country Singer and Star QB Engaged!".
"Ah," I murmur. "So that's that, then. I guess I missed my chance." I feel tears spring to my eyes and swallow quickly to press down a cry. I don't want Max worrying about me.
"I'm sorry," Danielle says. "I can't deny it's bad news, but maybe it's not the end. There's no way she's right for him."
"You've never even met her," I point out.
"But I know you, and I knew Hunter. You guys really had something special. Something I still haven't found for myself. And there's Max. You'll always be bound together."
"Hunter could be a completely different person now. And if he's happy with Allyson Anders, then I'm not going to arrive on the scene and bust everything up for him by announcing that he's Max's father. I already hurt him enough before."
"But you'll still have to see him."
"I'll be friendly and polite, and otherwise just avoid him as much as possible. It was a college relationship, and it was years ago. Maybe now I'll finally be able to move on."
Chapter 26
Hunter