Chapter Twenty-Four
Hunter
For the first time since meeting Ellis’s folks, I’m nervous to see Coach Blake and Abbie. After Ellis died, I was sad seeing them, felt guilty, but I was too heartbroken to be nervous. Today, though, it’s all I can concentrate on.
I ring the doorbell, knowing it will be Abbie who answers. They’ve always kept very traditional roles in the Blake household.
If Ellis had been with anyone but me, I don’t know if Coach would have accepted him.
It’s also why he struggled with Lucas so much.
He couldn’t understand why a kid who showed natural talent for football—this masculine, perfect sport in his mind—would rather take photos, or lie in the grass and look at the sky, or go to museums. He always tried to toughen Lucas up, not realizing that Lucas has always been tough—tougher than Ellis and me, honestly, because he has always insisted on being himself.
The door pulls open, and Abbie beams. “Hunter. It’s so good to see you.
” She pulls me into a hug, and there’s no doubt in my mind she loves me, or that she loves Lucas just as much as she loved Ellis.
I’m like a son to them, and everything that’s happened since the day Ellis died makes me feel like I’m lying to them, that feeling magnified now, given what’s going on with Lucas.
“It’s good to see you too,” I say, squeezing her back.
I follow her into the house. Coach Blake comes out of his office, looking as stern as ever. He’s a big, burly man, wide-chested, with a full beard and mustache, but eyes so similar to Lucas’s, it’s jarring. Lucas’s are softer, though, more guarded, like he’s always protecting himself.
“It’s good to see you, son.” Coach shakes my hand.
“You too.”
He turns to Abbie. “Is dinner ready?”
He knows I don’t have much time, and I know he’ll be working tonight as well, making sure Kansas City will do everything in their power to send us home with another loss. More than ever, I’m determined not to let that happen.
“Just about,” she replies.
“Do you need any help?” I ask her.
“I’m fine, dear,” Abbie says, in unison with Coach’s, “Come outside with me for a minute.”
My spine stiffens in a way it never used to around him. Offering to help Abbie is something I’ve always done, but I’ve never wanted her to say yes as badly as I do right now.
I don’t want to be alone with him. I see him differently now, and I’m not sure how to feel about that.
He leads the way, and I follow, just like everyone does when they’re in his space—everyone except Lucas. How hard that must’ve been for him… How did such a little boy find the strength to tell this man no?
Despite it being the first part of November, it’s in the upper sixties or lower seventies today, similar to the weather in LA. When I got drafted there, I was thankful. I didn’t miss the KC cold.
“You’re playing like the old Hunter out there,” he says, pride in his voice.
Part of it is for me—I think he generally wants what’s best for me—but the other part is him taking credit for me.
Despite being good even before meeting the Blakes, he takes credit for so much when it comes to my game.
And I’ve always given him all that credit too.
“Yes, sir. I’ve missed this, feeling more like myself, playing more like myself.”
“I like it. I knew you had it in you. Ellis would be proud.”
I look down, unable to make eye contact. Those words still hurt, regardless of how true they are. “Yeah…he would be.”
“I’m glad we have you, son. You’re not officially a Blake, but you might as well be. You’ll carry on our legacy the way I always wanted one of my sons to do.”
I nod, my gut twisting into a painful knot. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to talk about football, Ellis, or anything else with him, but I can’t walk away either. To him, I’m a son, and I’ve always thought that’s what I wanted, but now I’m not so sure.
Abbie pokes her head out the door, saving me. “Dinner is ready.”
We head inside, washing our hands and sitting at the table. Abbie serves us in a way that’s always made me uncomfortable, but like earlier, any time I offer to help, I’m shut down. That’s just not how they do things here.
We’re about halfway through dinner, when he says, “Apparently, Lucas moved to LA.” I can hear the detachment in his voice. It’s so different from how he would talk about Ellis or me. All that just because his son is strong enough to be who he is.
“Yeah…I know,” I reply, then take a bite.
“Oh, did I tell you?” Abbie asks sincerely.
“Um…no. I’ve seen him.” I don’t want to lie about that—something won’t let me. Not just because I’d rather not be the kind of man who lies at all, but because it feels like betrayal toward Lucas. They can’t know what we’re doing, but I don’t want to deny him.
“You have? That’s nice! He didn’t mention that.” Abbie smiles, clearly happy that we’ve reconnected.
“That boy never knows what he wants. New York to LA, photography and an art gallery? I don’t know why he didn’t open one in New York if he wanted one so badly.”
“He has a good friend in LA.” While I haven’t met Isla, Lucas has told me a lot about her. I know they’ve slept together, but that was before we connected. And if Lucas shares anything of himself with a person, it’s going to be Isla…well, Isla and maybe now me.
“Who is that?” he asks.
Shit. Has Lucas never talked about her? “Her name is Isla.”
“Are they in a relationship?”
“No. I don’t think so.” He’s in one with me. He spends most of his nights in my bed, making me smile and feel free.
“He won’t settle down even if he cared about this woman, just because he knows it’s something his mother and I would like to see. Just like he threw away his talent to spite me,” Coach Blake complains.
The hairs on the back of my neck rise, the urge to defend Lucas building inside me.
Does he know Lucas at all? “He was a kid when he chose not to play. It’s just not who he is.
But he’s an incredible photographer. Have you seen any of his work?
And the gallery is doing well. From what I’ve seen, it’s really popular.
Just because Lucas isn’t playing football doesn’t mean what he’s doing isn’t valid. ”
“That’s not what he meant, dear. We both know how talented he is,” Abbie says, trying to keep the peace, to smooth over the moment, and it’s not until this second that I realize how often she’s done that.
How she’s always trying to keep her husband happy and defend him, while also trying to support Lucas.
How did all this make Lucas feel? He pays attention to things, more than I ever did. He’s good at seeing what others don’t take the time to see. Even when he was a kid, he had to have seen this…had to have felt it.
“I think Lucas is exactly where he’s supposed to be,” I add.
I feel Coach’s gaze on me, know he’s wondering where that came from, why I’m coming to Lucas’s defense in a firmer way than I’ve ever done.
“Lucas threw away his legacy to spite me. Ellis would have never done that. You would have never done that.”
The tower of guilt I’ve been building higher and higher over the years collapses on top of me, but not for the reasons I would’ve thought.
It’s because of the pride I always felt in being the one to accomplish Coach Blake’s dreams for a son, never asking how any of this made Ellis feel, or how all of us left Lucas to carry the burden of his father alone.