Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Elliot
It’s been a few days since the night in my kitchen where Hunter showed me a side to him he had kept hidden.
He’d looked so scared when he stood in the hallway, his brown eyes wide with panic as he frantically searched for me.
I don’t know why I had it in my head that Hunter was this untouchable, invincible guy.
Considering what he’s gone through in his life, with being a SEAL and losing his husband in such a horrific way, it would be surprising if he didn’t have a vulnerable side.
As heartbreaking as it was to witness him like that and feeling the rapid beat of his heart against my chest, it kinda made me fall a tiny bit in love with him.
Okay, so maybe I’ve been falling in love with him this entire time.
How could I not? He’s fucking amazing and gorgeous and patient and kind.
He’s been this rock-solid support for me, allowing me to lean on him when I’ve needed him most, and then that night, I was the one he came to.
I was the one who held him and was the steady strength he needed.
After we showered together, we went back to bed, where I proceeded to lie on top of him. I was like a human weighted blanket. He fell asleep with me using his big chest as a pillow, his arms wrapped tight around me, like he was afraid of letting go.
I want that every night. Not the nightmares, but the closeness. The falling asleep together and spending sleepy mornings together. I think we’re reaching the point where things are about to become very real, and for once, I’m not terrified about it.
One thing I am terrified about, though, is meeting his uncle.
I’m going over to Hunter’s tonight for dinner with him and Walt.
I’ve never done the whole meeting with the parents before.
And while I know Walt isn’t Hunter’s dad, he’s told me so much about him and how he’s been the fatherly figure he’s needed over the last few years.
“I’m really nervous,” I confess, loud enough for only Jackson to hear.
We played a game in Detroit last night and landed back in Chicago shortly after midnight. We didn’t have a skate session this morning, but a few of the guys have come in to use the gym, and it’s why I find myself spotting Jackson after my visit with the trainer.
“How come?” he asks, his eyes quickly flashing to mine before focusing back on the barbell he’s currently pressing. “About meeting his uncle?”
“Yeah. Like, what if he doesn’t like me?”
Jackson lets out a strained huff of laughter as he does another rep. “Impossible. Who could dislike you?”
“Umm, some people don’t like me. They call me weird.”
“Then they’re assholes,” he says, like it’s a matter of fact, and I smile.
I like Jackson a lot. He’s kinda become my work dad since Ethan retired.
He was the one person I confided in at the start of the season when I was feeling left out and all up in my feelings.
And while I haven’t told him I’m speaking with the team psychologist soon about my recent discovery, I know he’ll be a good person to talk to, with him recently having gone through the autism assessment process for his daughter.
Jackson’s arms tremble slightly as he finishes his rep, and I help him stack the bar into the rack. He sits up and squirts some water in his mouth, twisting on the bench to face me.
“What else are you worried about?”
“What if they have weird forks?” I ask, giving voice to one of my concerns. “Do I take my own just in case?”
“I mean, sure, if that’ll make you more comfortable. I always carry a set for Isabela whenever we go out to eat.” He shrugs. “Fuck what other people think.”
I grin widely. “You’re feisty today. Did the kids wake you up by kneeing you in the balls again?”
He groans, scrubbing his face with his hand. “Yes. I’d only had about three hours sleep when Isabela came charging into the room. I thought someone had broken in.”
An image of the tiny four-year-old bursting through the door like a cannonball flashes in my mind, and I laugh. “She obviously missed her dad.”
“I’m just glad she didn’t get Hayden. Although I think they’ve learned they can’t jump on him like they can with me.”
“Well, he is old,” I joke.
Jackson tries to hide his smile but fails. “He’s not old.”
“He is. Anyway, I’m getting off topic. Do I need to take something tonight? Apart from my own cutlery?”
“Such as what?”
“Do I take him a gift?”
He huffs out a laugh and shakes his head before lying back on the bench for another set of reps. “No, Elliot, you don’t need to take anything. You’re a gift as it is.”
I pull up outside Hunter’s two-story house fifteen minutes earlier than the time he told me.
I’ve been so nervous about tonight and getting worried I’ll be late that I started to get ready after my afternoon nap.
Then I’ve spent the last three hours pacing my apartment, mentally preparing myself for all kinds of conversations that might happen, thinking about my best jokes and how I’m going to present myself.
I think I’m prepared. In more ways than one, because Hunter’s coming back to my place tonight. I’ve taken all of Zach’s advice, and I think I’m ready.
I’m still nervous as fuck, though, but I want this. I want to climb him like a tree and have sex with him.
“Stop being a weirdo. You’ve got this,” I tell myself, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly.
He must have spotted I’m here as the porch light flicks on, and moments later, the door opens to reveal a dreamy-looking Hunter. He’s dressed in a super soft dark green flannel shirt and those worn jeans with the holes in the thigh, looking like a goddamn lumber-snack.
I wipe my damp palms down the front of my jeans and grab my car keys before getting out of the car.
He greets me with a warm smile. “Hey, you.”
“Hey.” I smile back, voice trembling with nerves.
Strands of dark hair fall onto his face when he dips his head and presses his lips to mine.
“You don’t need to be nervous, okay?” he murmurs against my mouth. “Just be you. Walt is safe. He won’t judge you.”
“How did you know that was what I was worrying about?”
He lifts his head, and that gentle smile reappears on his face. “Because I wasn’t lying when I said I see you, El. Every little thing.”
Well, damn. There goes my heart fluttering like a butterfly farm.
I slide my tongue into his mouth for a fleeting taste before pulling back and shaking my hands out at my sides. “Okay, I’m ready to woo Uncle Walt.”
Hunter chuckles softly. “You don’t need to woo him. He already likes you.”
I open my mouth to reply with something witty, but it disappears from my brain when he takes hold of my hand and links our fingers together.
His warm hand gives mine a squeeze, and I have to stop myself from bouncing my way inside like a puppy as I follow him.
My cheeks ache from my face-splitting grin.
I’m so fucking happy, I don’t ever want this feeling to fade.
He leads me down a short hallway to the living room, where an older man with a big mustache sits in a comfortable-looking armchair.
“There he is. The man of the hour,” he booms, his deep voice echoing off the walls. “Shutout against Detroit. You really showed them fuckers who’s boss, didn’t ya?”
I let out a bark of surprised laughter. “Well, yeah, I guess I did, sir.”
“Walt,” Hunter warns, and I realize he hasn’t let go of my hand. “I thought I told you no hockey talk tonight.”
“I don’t mind,” I say quickly.
Walt looks ridiculous when he rolls his eyes and lets out an exasperated sigh, causing me to laugh again.
“Are you sure you wanna get involved with this one?” Walt asks me, motioning to Hunter with a flourish of his hand. “He isn’t any fun.”
“Oh, fuck you, Walt,” Hunter chides.
I snort. “I think he’s fun.”
“I’m glad one of us thinks so,” Walt grumbles under his breath.
Hunter flips him off, then says, “Why don’t you make yourself useful and get us some drinks?”
“Okay, okay.” Walt turns to me. “Elliot, what would you like to drink?” He lists off a variety of different drinks, and my mind whirls at the sheer number of choices.
“Uh, I’ll just have a seltzer water, thanks.”
With a nod, Walt slowly gets up from the chair. He grabs his walking cane and makes his way into the kitchen. I watch him until he disappears from view before dropping onto the couch next to Hunter.
“I could’ve got it myself,” I whisper, feeling guilty as Walt clearly struggles with his mobility.
He shakes his head. “He has to get up and move around, otherwise he feels worse for it. He’s been sitting in front of the TV for hours while I’ve been preparing dinner, so it won’t do him any harm to grab some drinks from the kitchen.”
I swallow, gaze darting back to the open door before facing him again.
“What’s up with him?” I ask quietly.
“He has arthritis pretty much everywhere. He refused to get surgery on his hip when they offered it, so it’s a case of managing the pain with medication and doing light exercises to keep him as mobile as possible.”
“My agent has that. Hayden. He really struggles sometimes.” I shove my hand into the front pocket of my hoodie and run my thumb over the smooth handle of the spoon I’ve brought with me.
“I didn’t know he had it until recently.
He used to play for Boston, but an injury ended his career.
He and Jackson are together, so we’ve become a lot closer.
It’s like he’s my friend now, not just my agent.
But after I found out, it made sense why he always told us not to hide any pain from the trainer, because he wasn’t honest about his pain, and now he suffers. ”
He moves his hand to rest on the back of the couch behind me, his fingers toying with my hair. “Do you worry about that sort of thing?”