Chapter Thirty
Hunter
We spend the day after bye week in team meetings, going over film, and having a light practice. It’s always an adjustment getting back to the grind after a week off. The rest is always needed, but going from our typical hardcore weeks to being off, then back at it again so quickly, is not easy.
“Hunter, can I talk to you for a second?” Coach asks when we’re done for the day. We’re off tomorrow since it’s a Tuesday, which is a little weird after a week off. The schedule feels broken up, and now that he’s asked to speak with me, all I can think is I did something wrong.
I feel more rested than I have in a long time, though.
Usually, I go home during my bye week, but I also spend time training.
Last week I didn’t do shit. I didn’t even think about football if I’m being honest. I’m not sure there’s ever been a week in my whole life where I didn’t constantly think about training or playing.
I just hadn’t wanted to do anything but be with Lucas.
“Yes, sir.” I hang out in the film room as everyone files out. Oakley squeezes my shoulder in support, my head automatically nodding in a way that says both thanks and what the fuck is going on. “Is everything okay?” I ask when it’s just Coach and me.
“It sure is,” he replies, and a deep breath whooshes from my lungs, the stiffness in my shoulders easing.
“I just wanted to tell you how proud I am of you. I know the last few years have been rough on you…losing Ellis and all. I must admit, I was worried about you. You’ve always been good, but lately not Hunter King good.
That light you always had in your eyes was gone, but I’ve noticed it again the last few months.
Haven’t seen your name in the news for anything other than your game either, so whatever it is you’re doing, keep doing it.
That’s it. You know how much we depend on you, the team looking to you for direction, and it’s been different for a while, but now the old Hunter is back. ”
At first, I’m not sure how to respond. I’m honored, of course, but it comes with some strangeness because what’s different in my life is Lucas. I lost myself after Ellis’s death, and now my coach is saying I found myself again, and it’s because of Ellis’s brother.
“Thank you, Coach. That means a lot to me. I love this game. I love this team. Football has always been the most important thing in my world.”
Should it be, though? I used to think so.
I didn’t even have to feel guilty feeling that way because Ellis used to think it should be too.
We had that in common. We bonded over it.
Football was all that mattered, but now that feels off, like I suddenly realize that even though I love football, there’s more that matters, that there’s a million different things to love that aren’t football.
Is that all we shared? That can’t be the case, but it was always there with Ellis and me.
It’s what we did, what we talked about, what we were striving for, both of us—for me to be the best player I could be.
“That’s good, Hunter. I’m glad to hear you love this game—we shouldn’t be here if we don’t—but there’s more to life than football, okay? You can’t give your all here, if you’re not happy there. One day, football won’t be here, not in the same way, at least. Remember that. You deserve to be happy.”
Again, I’m struck speechless. I try to imagine Coach Blake telling me that, but there’s no chance in hell he would. He has always told me to succeed, that football must be everything, must come first, and with him, it always has. Before his wife, before his kids…
“Thank you. I am.”
He grins and pats me on the back. “I can tell. That’s why you’re playing so well. Happiness doesn’t start on the field, but we reap the benefits there. I just wanted to tell you I see you, see your effort, and as I said, whatever you’re doing, keep it up. We need you out there.”
Oakley is waiting for me in the locker room, standing by his cubby with a towel around his hips, water glistening on his pretty brown skin. “Hey, bro. Everything good?”
“Yeah. It was weird. He just wanted to tell me he’s proud I’ve been playing well.”
“He’s right.” Oakley pulls his boxer briefs on beneath his towel, then tosses it aside. “You’re killing it. Our little fucking Comeback King.”
I roll my eyes at the ridiculous nickname. “Shut up, Lockdown Mann,” I throw his nickname back at him. They call him that because he’s so damn good at covering the best wide receivers in the game—including Desmond.
“Damn right.” He grins, wearing the name proudly.
“I never went anywhere,” I finally say, though we both know that’s not true.
“Maybe not physically, but up here.” Oakley taps his temple. “You’re good now, though—or better. Everyone’s noticed. You deserve that after what you’ve been through. You know you’re my boy…even if you are cool with Desmond.”
I chuckle. Des and Oakley have never gotten along—probably partially because Des is so good at what he does, and Oak is too, which means it’s always a battle between the two of them.
Still though, outside of that, they’ve always grated on each other’s nerves—or I guess Des annoys the shit out of Oakley.
Something about him hits weird with Des too, but not in the same way.
It’s almost like he enjoys getting under Oakley’s skin.
He’s supposed to on the field, but not off it.
“Des is my guy,” I say, feeling playful with Oakley.
“Everyone has a flaw. I guess yours is your bad taste.”
“But you’re my boy too,” I add, remembering how much I enjoy bullshitting with Oakley.
When Ellis died, Oakley used to ask me to hang out all the time, often to have dinner with his family.
I said no so often, eventually he stopped asking.
What would he think if he knew about Lucas and me?
Could we have a night at my house the way we did with Isla last week?
“Everyone gets it right once in a while.” Oakley winks, and I laugh.
“You’re an asshole.”
“Definitely.” He grins, puts his shirt and pants on, and steps into his shoes. “It’s good to have you back, man. But it’s different too…you seem different. Lighter or some shit.”
“I feel lighter,” I admit. “Let’s hang out soon, okay? Outside of football, I mean.”
Oakley’s smile grows. I swear the guy never looks unhappy. “That’s what I’m talking about.” He holds his fist out for me, and I bump it. “I’m out. See ya on Wednesday, Hunter.”
“See you then.”
I can’t wait to get home and share my day with Lucas.
*
“Mmm, I like days off after a week off,” Lucas says as I lift him up and set him on my kitchen counter. His arms and legs immediately wrap around me, and when I lower my hand, I feel the bulge growing beneath his LA Pulse shorts.
“Me too.” I kiss down his throat, wishing he wasn’t leaving for work, or hell, wishing I could go with him. I’d love to see Lucas in his element. He’s seen me in mine, and though he hasn’t been to a game since we got together, he watches them all.
“I don’t want to go,” he says. “Maybe I can fake sick and spend the day inside you instead.”
I chuckle. “As good as that sounds, you have a job to do. I don’t want to interfere with that.”
“Come with me.” Lucas kisses my jawbone. “You can be there as a friend, and no one would say anything anyway. I’ve shot with these people a hundred times.”
Part of me wants to say yes so badly. Hell, just yesterday I was wondering what it would be like to spend time with Lucas and Oakley together.
But all I can think about is what Coach said to me.
Yeah, he talked about being happy, but also about how proud of me he is, how people are counting on me.
Things are going so well right now, I’m afraid of doing anything to fuck it up.
I feel like myself on the field, maybe more than I ever have.
If shit goes wrong, if things get out about Lucas and me, we’ll put the carefully constructed world we’ve built together at risk.
Lucas doesn’t wait for me to answer, sliding off the counter. “It’s okay.”
“I’m sorry. Maybe we could… Oak…we can trust him…” But still, as much as I want that, I don’t know if I’m ready for it.
“It’s cool, Hunt. I’m good. It was just a dumb idea. Come shower with me.”
I do as he says, selfishly thankful he’s letting it go. I blow him in the shower, hoping that dulls the sting of my earlier rejection.
“I’ll make dinner tonight,” I say, as if that changes anything.
“Okay.”
Lucas gets dressed in a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt, before putting on his jewelry. I tug on underwear and a pair of joggers, and once his filming equipment is all packed, I help him carry it downstairs.
He opens the door as I hand him the rest of his things, and I hold on to his shirt so he can’t walk away.
“It’s not you, Lucas. It’s just that things are going so fucking well right now.
I’m not ready for it to blow up in our faces.
” Because it will. It’ll be the last straw between Lucas and his father.
It’ll be a media circus for me, and also, as much as I hate to admit it, I’m still conflicted about losing what I had with Coach Blake.
“I know. And I’ll always want you, Hunt, but I can’t stay a secret forever. I’m not saying it has to be right now, but I didn’t fight my whole life to stay true to who I am to go back on that now.”
My chest tightens at his words, but at the same time, I’m so fucking proud of him.
The truth is, I used to be the same. It’s why I never wanted to hide my bisexuality, why I wanted to make it as an out bi man.
I’m not sure when I lost that. When Ellis died?
While I kept making every sacrifice Coach Blake said I should?