Chapter 27
Hunter
When I told Kyle I was making this drive, he laughed and told me to stay awake.
Coach’s reaction was similar. I heard a lot of warnings about the crowded highways on my way out of Dallas and the sudden dearth of topography.
But I have to say, coming from the congested freeway tangles of Southern California, the wide-open spaces and lush green feel kind of nice. So do the small towns along the way.
It’s been a four-hour trip, but I feel like I’ve seen a thousand places, all of them different. Maybe this will get old eventually, but it’s going to take several passes for me to find any of this boring.
I roll into Sweetwater just as the sun is setting. The sky is swaths of purples and oranges. I get similar paint strokes in Dallas, but it hits different out here. Less urban. In Oklahoma, you can almost smell the sunsets.
I arranged to swap out my rental car here in Sweetwater at a small car lot that mostly serves the university.
Brooks brought my truck up for me, but I’d be lying if I didn’t have ulterior motives with the ask.
It’s an excuse to check in on him. I didn’t have to pry much when we talked, either.
There was a baby crying in the background, and that’s kind of hard to explain away when you’re a single dude playing for a farm team.
I park the Honda near the rental office and turn in the keys while some dude walks around the car with a clipboard to make sure I brought it back whole. Other than bugs smashed on the windshield, it’s pretty much the same as it was when it was delivered to me.
“Hey, man. I got someone for you to meet,” Brooks says, swinging a carrier around his body as he steps around the front of my truck.
“My goodness,” I coo. It’s funny how a tiny human can literally bring two massive dudes to their knees.
“Brooks, buddy. She’s precious,” I say, careful to keep my voice down so I don’t wake his daughter.
His expression still seems gobsmacked. He’s white as a ghost, and the dark circles under his eyes are prominent. But there’s a smile under all that exhaustion. He’s doing this. He’s actually doing this.
“So, this is Holly?” I glace up at him briefly, immediately dropping my gaze back to the angel snuggled in a pink blanket.
“This is Holly,” he says, taking a deep breath.
I don’t know all the details, and I won’t push him. He’s still overwhelmed. But from what he shared, Holly was the product of a one-night stand, and her appearance at his doorstep with a note was a massive surprise.
“Here’s the keys to your baby,” he says, handing over my extra key fob.
“I think mine is a little easier to handle for me,” I say, hoping the joke isn’t too much.
“Oh, me too. But I don’t think you want to trade,” he says, immediately adding, “Kidding. I’m kidding. I would never . . .”
“I know,” I say. “Come on. I’ll give you a lift back to your place.”
We pile into my truck, and Brooks fastens the baby carrier into the middle seat with some clip that connects to my seatbelt. I stare at his hands as they work, much the way I do when my mom operates her sewing machine. It’s like sorcery to me.
“You’d be amazed what you can learn on the internet,” he says. He gives the seat a little tug, then nods, satisfied Holly is secure.
His place is only a few blocks away, so he’s undoing his work within minutes. I reach an arm around him for a half hug in front of my truck, and I pat his back, hoping he figures out a plan soon. He needs a nanny, stat. And then it hits me.
“You know what? I have someone you should reach out to. She’s good with kids. And she’s looking for a job that might let her stay at home. Anyhow . . .”
Brooks hands over his phone at lightning speed, and I pop open my contacts to send him Lindsey’s number.
It’s a fluke I have it, and it’s only because she called me the night I got into Dallas.
But my half-hatched idea isn’t so bad. They could help each other out. And I’d like that, for both of them.
“I’ll call her today. Thanks, man. You’re a lifesaver.”
I hug him one more time and reassure him that he’ll be playing up with me soon enough—even if it takes him a season of raking down here to get there.
And maybe he’ll have things sorted out about Holly by then, whether she stays with him permanently or not.
I saw the way he looked at her, though. He’s letting her go.
“Say hi to the guys for me. Especially Roddy. Let him know I listened to the high and outside. He’ll know what it means.”
“Sure thing,” Brooks says.
I pull away as he heads into his apartment with his daughter, and on my way to Renleigh’s place, I take the route that runs by the stadium.
The lights are on, though there’s not a game tonight, so it must be the field crew.
I’m tempted to pull over and ask if I can drive the mower, just once.
It’s like the Zamboni in hockey, and I’m sure I’d fuck up the pretty lines in the grass.
But it would grow back. And I’d have a check on my bucket list.
While that urge is strong, the one calling me to keep heading west is stronger, and soon, I’m pulling up outside the Blackwood home, and Renleigh is on her way out to me.
I roll my window down and kill the engine.
“Well, shoot. You’re all dressed up and pretty.” She’s wearing a white cotton sundress with a blue sweater over it. She reminds me of summer.
“I was hoping we could go on a date,” she says, her lips puckered as she lifts herself up by the running board to kiss me through the window.
“Date, huh?” My brow lowers with skepticism.
If we’re heading out together tomorrow, it feels strange to go on a date tonight, which fills my belly with worried butterflies.
But this is Renleigh, and nothing about our relationship has been by anyone’s book, not even those romance ones on her shelves. Well, my shelves.
“Hop in,” I say, leaning my head to the right as I smile. I’m doing my best to ignore the fast pitter-pattering in my chest, but my stream of worried thoughts is making it impossible. I can’t handle the anticipation, so the minute she slips into the passenger seat, I blurt my inner thoughts out.
“You’re not coming to Dallas, are you?”
Renleigh
Nothing like this ever goes the way you imagine. I rehearsed this talk with Hunter a hundred times, and always got to gently let him down. That method, however, was imaginary. And this one, the real one, is going to hurt.
I suck in my bottom lip, and his eyes fall along with the corners of his mouth. He hangs his hands over the steering wheel and sighs before rolling his neck and meeting my gaze.
“Why?”
I match the tilt of his head.
“You know why,” I croak.
“Your dad isn’t alone, Renleigh. And if your mom leaves, you can come back. Or I’ll hire a home health aide to come, someone who can stay with him, maybe help him rehab faster.”
His offer warms my heart, and I have to brush away the tears that rapidly form in my eyes as I shake my head.
“It’s not my dad, Hunter. You’re right. Someone else can care for him. My mom can care for him.”
He deflates physically, his body sinking into the driver’s seat and his neck hunching.
“Then, what is it? What’s in our way? Because I want this, Renleigh. I want you. Us.”
He bites his bottom lip, and I’m so tempted to crawl over this center console and bite it back, but I don’t. I have to say my own hard truth out loud.
“I can’t come with you because I’m not sure I’m strong enough in here”—I pat my hand on the center of my chest—“to handle you leaving week after week, and month after month. I can’t . . .”
I’m having trouble breathing, and Hunter pulls his seat belt off and lunges over the center console to cradle my face with his warm hands.
“I know, I get it. I understand,” he says, bringing his forehead to mine.
I wrap my hands around his wrists and breathe with him, my heart pounding so hard that it nearly drowns out my thoughts. If only it pounded harder, and maybe then I would think about how terrified I am to be alone.
“Maybe eventually. Maybe . . . I don’t know.” I start to cry at that reality. What if I’m broken beyond repair? What if I’ve pushed myself into this coping box that I’ll never get out of?
“So I’ll wait. And I’ll drive to Sweetwater. I’ll drive down here every goddamn week if that’s what it takes. And I’ll call you from the road. And I’ll—”
“But you have your life, too. I don’t want you taking care of me and my fucked-up head and heart,” I choke out.
“Ren,” he says, his lips brushing mine. I hold on to the soft kiss, memorizing the brush of his lips. “I do have my life, and this is what I want for it. I want you. And us. I want our shot. And if that means I drive through small-town America a million times a year . . .”
I blubber out a pathetic laugh.
“I’ll do it,” he says.
I swallow the sharp, invisible rocks terrorizing my throat and nod before kissing him harder, and soon, he sweeps me into his lap, my back against the steering wheel.
He maneuvers his seat back more, and my hands fight to unbutton his jeans and work the zipper down.
He helps, pulling his cock out and gripping it while I tug the skirt of my dress up my thighs and drag the cotton strip of my panties to the side with my finger so he can guide himself into me.
I sink onto him, his cock flexing inside me as I roll my hips and hum into his mouth.
He deepens our kiss, his hands sliding under my dress and grabbing my ass, pulling me into him as his hips thrust upward.
“I want to have this. I need this,” I say at his ear, his mouth hot on my neck. His teeth graze my ear as he pulls me onto him harder.
“You can have me. All of me. And this is enough for now if it’s all you can give. I won’t stop trying. I won’t stop waiting. I will never not fight for you,” he mutters against my skin.