BEST FRIEND'S BABY (Book Two)

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BEST FRIEND'S BABY (Book Two) Page 3

by Layla Wilde


  “Fine,” I said, giving in to his ridiculous idea. Meanwhile, the man who had helped carry him inside had grown even paler, and he looked like he might pass out. I wondered if anything was wrong with him, but from what I could tell, he looked perfectly fine. “I’m going to get the first aid kit.”

  Hunter nodded and closed his eyes weakly. I was terribly nervous. My fingers were shaking, and by the time I got to the bathroom for the first aid kit I had helped put away hours ago, doubts started to plague my mind. What if I can’t do it? What if I mess up and Hunter dies? My throat felt like it was closing up, and my anxiety was getting the best of me. The reflection in the mirror revealed how pale I was. My skin felt clammy, and my cheeks were burning with an awful crimson color. Would I be able to properly pierce a needle through my boyfriend’s skin without calling in a medical professional? This was so insane.

  From the other room, I could hear the two men talking. I couldn’t quite make out their words, but from the sound of it, the leather-clad individual was rather distressed. Despite being the victim, Hunter was the only one capable of keeping his cool in this situation.

  Finally, I emerged from the bathroom, holding the first aid kit in my hands. “Okay… Let’s do this…” I said, my voice shaking.

  “Don’t look so nervous. I know you can do it.” He reached out his hand and touched my cheek gently. He gave me a soft smile, trying to encourage me. I took a deep breath and nodded.

  “This is insane,” I reminded him as I used a pair of scissors to carefully cut away his shirt. I had to pull it off. The blood was already drying and causing it to stick to his skin.

  “I think I’m going to be sick…” The man behind me grumbled, holding a hand up to his mouth and looking away.

  “Jesse, just go home. I’ll call you tomorrow,” Hunter ordered.

  “Are you sure? I don’t want to just leave you.” The man tried to put on a brave face, but it was obvious the scene was making him queasy.

  “Yeah. Go on before you throw up all over the floor and make an even bigger mess,” Hunter said in a calm voice. His breathing had settled a bit, but there was still a layer of sweat covering his body. As I touched the bare skin near the wound, it was red hot, as if an infection was already starting to spread under his skin.

  “This might sting a little,” I warned, pulling the shirt away from the wound. Jesse couldn’t handle it. With a rush of footsteps, he ran out the door. Hunter shook his head, chuckling. “I can’t believe you’re laughing at a time like this,” I chastised. “I honestly can’t believe you,” I repeated, now annoyed.

  “Are you blaming me for getting cut?” Hunter asked, narrowing his eyes at me.

  “Well, what the hell were you doing outside? Couldn’t you have just stayed here with me?” I sighed. “This is going to hurt. A lot,” I warned him as I poured alcohol over his wound to disinfect it. It fizzled angrily, the white foam seeping out of his wound.

  He gasped, and his whole body tensed while his hand held onto the table for support, his nails digging into the wood. “God! You could’ve let me prepare for that.”

  “Yeah, well, you should’ve told me you were going out. Now I have to deal with this when the smart thing to do would’ve been to call an ambulance.” My voice was low and hostile.

  “Can we not discuss this right now? Just stitch me up so I can go to bed. I’ll be better in the morning,” he said dismissively.

  I could tell he was holding back, afraid to say something else. I sat down and ground my teeth. In silence, I pulled out all the materials I needed from the little tin box. A needle. Stitching wire. Gauze. “You know, something like this really needs staples, not stitches.”

  “Just do it! If I go to the emergency room, I lose any chance I might have of going to the NFL and you know that. C’mon, Vic, you have to do this for me. You simply have to.” He sounded desperate, his bright blue eyes full of panic as he thought about losing his dream. “Coach said he would put me in this year… but that’s not going to happen if he sees me like this…” he whispered. “Please…”

  I didn’t say anything. I simply threaded the needle and inspected the wound. Luckily, the blade hadn’t gone in deep. It had cut through his skin but seemed to have avoided any major muscle. Of course, I had no way of knowing that positively. While I was angry with Hunter for his total disregard for safety, I was also worried sick. The blade could have been rusty, and I didn’t know if he had a tetanus shot or not. There were so many things that could go wrong that I hardly wanted to think about them. The thought of Hunter dying in my care flashed through my mind, and I had to do everything in my power to keep it at bay or I risked a nervous breakdown.

  Instead, I focused on the task at hand. I moved to my knees, holding the needle with shaky fingers. I took big, deep breaths. “Are you ready?” I asked.

  “Yes.” He inhaled and grabbed the table to prepare himself.

  I nodded and pushed the sharp needle slowly through his skin. He fought through the pain, squirming slightly as I did everything I could to ensure the stitches were compact enough to properly close the wound. When I finished, a little line of stitches decorated his side, and my hands, arms, and clothes were covered in his blood. Ignoring this, I pressed the gauze to his side, wiping away the blood with disinfectant before placing a large bandage over my work.

  “Never ask me to do that again,” I said harshly, getting up and walking over to the sink to wash my boyfriend’s blood off my hands. “That was the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. You could’ve died. You could still die.” There were tears forming in the corners of my eyes as I pictured it.

  “Vic… Please don’t be mad at me. I didn’t mean to get hurt. I was just out walking to get some fresh air. I was trying to clear my head when a car full of thugs pulled up. There was nothing we could’ve done.”

  “You couldn’t run?” I interjected, wiping my hands angrily on my soiled pants. “You couldn’t have called the police or something? God, I don’t know…” I narrowed my eyes at him. “Please don’t tell me you fought them?” I could tell by the look on his face that I had hit the nail on the head. “That’s so typical. You think you’re some kind of a superman, that you’re invincible. Well, you’re not!” Angry tears spilled down my cheeks as my hands clenched into fists by my side. “You can get hurt, but that doesn’t just affect you. It affects everyone around you, especially those who love you. And I love you!” I spat, my words rushing out of my mouth. I don’t even know how I formed coherent sentences, I was shaking so hard.

  Hunter stared at me, shocked by my outburst. Slowly, he got up, groaning with the pain that obviously shot through his body. He leaned on the table for support. A part of me wanted to reach out and help him, but I was much too mad to do anything. I was glued to the floor, every part of my body charged with energy.

  “I’m sorry.” He shuffled toward me holding his side as if he would fall apart the moment he took his hand away. “I didn’t mean to upset you.” His whisper was husky and rough. I looked at him, unable to move away as he approached me. He reached out and moved my bangs gently out of my face. “I would never purposely upset you, Vic. You should know that. It’s just that when I told you I loved you… I panicked. I didn’t know what to do. I felt claustrophobic, and I went outside for a walk. I wasn’t thinking straight.”

  My heart dropped. “Do you regret telling me you love me?” I asked, dreading the answer.

  He immediately shook his head. “Never. I just wasn’t prepared for it,” he explained. “I’ve always loved you, but I was so scared of telling you, thinking you wouldn’t feel the same way.” It was the first time I had witnessed Hunter admitting his own weakness. “But… I really do love you. Please believe me.” He looked into my eyes before he leaned down and kissed me. I felt all my anger dissipate in that kiss. When we broke apart, he smiled at me. “And you just saved my life.”

  “Yeah. Well, if I forgive you, then you have to promise me you’ll be more careful next time.�


  “I promise.” He nodded, but I felt like this wouldn’t be the last time he would do something insane like this. I sighed and hugged him anyway, knowing that no matter what he did, I would still love him at the end of the day.

  Hunter

  Victoria was still a little annoyed with me after that, but once the semester began, we barely even saw each other. She was constantly cooped up in the library or working. I had no idea how she could be so busy with schoolwork when we hadn’t been in school for a full week yet.

  Still, I didn’t have much time to worry about it since I had practice almost every morning. It had been brutal, especially with my injury. I had to be careful and avoid being tackled. It was painful, to say the least, but so far, no one had noticed anything was wrong.

  Thursday was our last practice before the first game of the season on Saturday afternoon. I was nervous. Coach still hadn’t said a word regarding whether I would play with the rest of the team. At the thought of being sidelined again, I gritted my teeth against my anger as I stepped into the shower room, picking one that had its own stall and door. I didn’t need any of my teammates to see my side and the rudimentary stitches that barely held it together. The other night, I had checked it in the mirror and it hadn’t looked too great, but all I had to do was get through the first game and then I could have it looked at properly. Besides, I didn’t have the guts to go up to Victoria and ask her to take care of it. She was angry enough. She didn’t need to know it was slowly getting infected.

  I sighed and let the water run over my body. Some of my teammates thought it was silly that I liked to shower before practice since I was just going to get sweaty all over again, but it helped invigorate me and get my mind in the game. The cold water was enough to wake up my senses and make me feel like I could actually pay attention on the field. Besides, it was six in the morning. I definitely needed a wake-up call.

  I stepped out and heard a few of my teammates in the locker room putting their gear on. “Hunter. What’s up?” Ben, our quarterback, a Californian with bleached blond hair and tanned skin grinned at me. “How was the pre-practice shower?” he teased. He was my biggest rival, and although we teased each other and constantly got on one another’s nerves, at the end of the day, we were teammates and we would do anything for each other.

  “Good,” I answered.

  He chuckled and rolled his eyes, walking away. I dressed quickly and made sure the bandage was secured over my wound. I winced a little moving around and bending over, but day by day, I was getting better and better at ignoring it and acting like everything was fine.

  I joined the rest of the team in the center of the locker room. There were about fifty of us in total. Even though there were only eleven spots on the team, we still needed substitutes in case anything went wrong and, of course, some of these guys were freshmen, watching the game with their doe eyes, praying they would get lucky enough to be put in.

  “Everyone ready?” the quarterback asked.

  We all shouted in affirmation and ran out of the locker room and onto the field. Dew lined the grass, and the sky was still painted in different shades of gray as the sun tried to lift off the horizon.

  Our coach walked up with a clipboard in his hand and a stern expression on his face. “Alright, everyone, listen up. I want a good practice today. This is our last chance to try out our plays before the big game on Saturday. In order to motivate you a bit further, I’d like to remind you that NFL scouts will be watching the game. They hope to pick out some raw talent while they’re here since they know you haven’t had much time to practice. So for any of you with big dreams, this is your time to shine.”

  He glanced at me for a moment, and my heart sped up. Was he finally going to put me in a game? I thought about what it would feel like to get spotted by a scout, and my spirit soared. I had to play in Saturday’s game.

  The team whispered among themselves, talking about the possibilities. Next to me, a smaller freshman chatted eagerly with his friend, his eyes nearly bugging out of his head. I wanted to tell him it would be a long time before he got his chance at fame, but I couldn’t bear to crush his dreams, so I remained silent. Everyone else, however, seemed certain that they would be picked out by the scouts.

  “Alright, everyone, let’s get out there. Make me proud.”

  We rushed forward. I tried to run, but the effort sent pain all the way through my body and straight to my injury. I couldn’t keep myself from wincing, glad that I had a helmet on so no one could see the grimace on my face. Still, I pushed myself, knowing I had to keep up if I wanted to have even a smidgen of a chance of getting into the game. I kept glancing over at the coach, hoping he would pick up on my efforts, but he didn’t seem to be paying attention to anything we did.

  “Push it, guys!” the coach yelled at us as we went through our endurance training, doing suicides, flipping huge old tires, and doing a minute of jump rope before repeating it all again. I panted for breath, the pain in my side excruciating. I noticed some of my other teammates passing me, and it got harder and harder for me to keep up with them. I ground my teeth, pushing myself to the limit. I didn’t know how much more of this I could take.

  “Baxley!”

  I perked up, hearing my last name. I looked up and saw a football flying my way. Without even thinking, I caught it. A second later, another one came towards me, and again, I caught it. Ball after ball, I got them all.

  “Go long!” another voice called, and my body instantly broke out in a sprint, rushing down the field, my long arms extending and catching the ball at the last possible moment.

  But as I fell to the earth, I lost my balance and crashed into the ground. I gasped for breath, the wind knocked out of me with the fall. I tried to get up, but it was nearly impossible. Suddenly, someone stood there, offering me a hand.

  “That was very well done,” the coach said, giving me a forceful pat on the back. I had to do everything in my power not to cry out in pain. “You’ve gotten much better since last year.”

  I smiled in response, taking off my helmet as I saw my teammates walking off the field. Practice was over, and it was time for some of us to get to class. “Thank you, sir,” I answered once we were completely alone and he had guided me back to one of the benches.

  “I think I’ll put you in Saturday’s game. What do you say?” He grinned at me, seeing the ecstatic look on my face.

  “Do you mean it?” I asked. Even though I was elated to be a part of the game, a part of me couldn’t quite believe it. After two years of being pushed to the sidelines, it was surprising to have the coach suddenly interested in my skills. It was even more ironic that I had managed to impress him while being injured. I could only imagine what he would say if I had practiced in full health.

  “Of course I do. We need a solid running back like you. We also need to win this game,” he said sternly. “Don’t let me down.”

  I nodded. “You won’t regret this, sir!”

  He smiled and dismissed me. With my heart beating a mile a minute, I walked back into the locker room to take another shower when Ben bumped into me, hitting my shoulder. I groaned, and he laughed.

  “What’s wrong with you? I didn’t even hit you that hard. Don’t tell me you’re growing soft on me,” he teased, hitting me again.

  I gritted my teeth and managed to bite back the pain. “Quit it,” I said, hitting him back, sending him flying into the nearby lockers.

  “Okay, okay. No need to go all Hulk on me. Wouldn’t want to damage this pretty face.” He motioned to his own features, and I rolled my eyes. If there was anyone suffering from narcissism, it was Ben. He always talked about how hot he was and how many girls chased after him, trying to get a one-way ticket to his heart. In all honesty, it was actually quite annoying, but he had one hell of an arm and our team needed him.

  “Anyway, I hear coach is finally putting you in the game. It’s about time, isn’t it?” He chuckled. Ben, unlike myself, had been playing since he wa
s a freshman. Recruiters had already tried to get in touch with him, but he always turned them down. He wasn’t interested in playing professional ball after college.

  “Yeah. I think he might’ve been blind the first couple of years… or he just didn’t like me. I don’t know.”

  “Well, he has always liked me better,” Ben boasted. “But I’m happy for you. Why don’t you come out with the rest of us for some drinks? I’m hosting a party at my house. Lots of booze and girls. It’ll be a lot of fun.”

  I bit my lip. I did miss the party scene, but I wondered whether it would be such a good idea. I should probably rest up for the game and have my injury checked, but the thought of letting loose and having some fun was too good to pass up. I pictured myself in the midst of a large crowd, jostled to and fro, loud music blasting through my eardrums. I missed that. “Okay. I’ll come. Text me the address.” Ben nodded before walking away, grabbing his backpack and heading to his nine a.m. class.

 

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