Chapter Thirty-Four
Lucas
I’ve never been so stressed over a football game in my life, and this time, I won’t be listening to it outside the stadium like the night my father didn’t take me with them to Hunter’s game.
Isla is on one side of me, and Hunter’s mom, Michelle, on the other.
She’d flown in for the game, wanting to be here to support Hunter and me.
It was interesting seeing her for the first time in this new light, this woman who has been part of my life since I was thirteen.
I feared she’d see me and be reminded I’m not good enough for Hunter, but she simply hugged me, told me how happy she is to see me, and that she loves me.
It healed a part of me—everything that’s been happening lately healing more and more of me.
I’m wearing Hunter’s jersey, which is slightly sickening and a little cute too.
It’s been a wild couple of days. Everyone is talking about Hunter King dating the second son of Ellis Blake, after starting his career in a relationship with his other son.
Some are nice about it, some make jokes about us, some are cruel and say disgusting things, but we’ve done our best to block it out.
It helped having Michelle here. I haven’t returned my mom’s calls yet.
I’m just not ready—afraid of what she’ll say, afraid that even if she says it’s okay, it won’t be enough.
After knowing what it feels like to have Hunter choose me, it makes it even worse that she never has.
Luckily, we make it to our seats without any drama. No one seems to recognize us.
Hunter got us a great spot, of course, close to the field.
My stomach is twisted in knots, and I’d love a fucking cigarette, but I haven’t had one since that night on Hunter’s porch when he came home after going to the beach to talk to my brother.
He told me all about that, and I figure I need to find a way to forgive myself for being in love with my brother’s boyfriend, but I’ll worry about that after the game.
Right now, all that matters is beating my father.
Hunter needs it.
I need it.
“I’m so nervous,” Isla says.
“Me too,” Michelle adds, but I can’t form words. I feel like I’ll throw up, like the earth will open up and suck this whole stadium into it, that somehow my father will win—this game and everything.
LA receives the kickoff in the first quarter. They start their downs by the ten-yard line. The center snaps the ball, the quarterback handing it off to Hunter, but the ball falls out of his hands, hitting the turf.
“Fuck.” A fumble? A fucking fumble on his first possession? I know my father’s plan worked, that he’s in Hunter’s head.
He slides to a stop, everyone diving for the ball, but luckily, the Pulse come away with it. Losing the ball on his first play would kill Hunter.
“Come on, baby, come on, baby, come on, baby,” I say softly, not taking my eyes off the game.
They don’t let that get into their heads, don’t let it stress Hunter out, running the next play to get him the ball. He doesn’t manage many yards, but three is better than nothing.
The ball goes to their tight end next. KC is aggressive on defense, which is why we’re struggling to get the ball up the field.
We don’t score on our opening drive, not even a field goal.
But our defense is on point too, and KC doesn’t score either.
The first quarter ends with both teams still at zero.
“I guess it was too much to hope for to be dominant from the start.” Michelle wrings her hands.
“I don’t know if I’ll make it through this game.”
She places her hand on mine, giving it a squeeze. “You will, and he will, and no matter what the score is at the end, you and Hunter will be okay. We want this win, but not getting it won’t change anything, okay?”
I look over at her. Hunter resembles her so much—same color hair, same perfect smile, and just like I believe anything when he says it, I believe her too. “Okay.”
The score at halftime is Kansas City up 7–0. The crowd is loud around us, cheering for their team to do something. Isla goes to the bathroom at halftime, but I can’t move. I’m not leaving this seat until the game is over.
Kansas City gets a field goal on their first trip down the field, bringing their score to ten.
“Shit.” My eyes squeeze shut, like that will change anything. Nope. When I open them, the score is still the same.
When we receive the ball again, we gain twenty-five yards on the play, making me scoot closer to the edge of my seat.
The Pulse huddle, and the second they break to get into formation, I somehow know the ball is going to Hunter.
He runs long and fast, one of the defensive ends keeping up with him.
Our quarterback scans the field, but no one is open, until Hunter fakes right and shoots left, moving across the center of the field with speed I didn’t know he had.
The ball sails through the air, landing in his arms, and he’s off.
He zigzags through multiple defenders, spins around another, while working his way down the field.
I shove to my feet, heart in my throat, sweat on my brow. “You got this, Hunt. You got this.” He’s just about to the end zone when another guy on defense dives for him, but Hunter jumps over him, crossing into the zone, arms in the air, and I fucking know there are tears in his eyes.
“Fuck yes!” I scream, pumping my fists in the air. There are tears in my eyes too. It’s one touchdown. We have a long way to go, but he at least has this, and I know how much he needs it. We get the extra point too, bringing the score to 7–10.
It’s like the Pulse are a different team in the second half. Unstoppable. Hunter’s rushing and passing yards climb, as do their receivers’. The defense does exactly what it’s out there to do. The end of the third has us tied at ten.
One quarter to go. We fucking got this.
*
The second the game is over, Michelle, Isla, and I are jumping and cheering, arms wrapped around each other while we celebrate our narrow win. It wasn’t the prettiest game of the season, but we won 13–10—the only Pulse touchdown from Hunter.
Michelle wipes tears from her eyes as I look toward the field. I swear it feels like the fucking Super Bowl or something with how loud the stadium is.
I see my father right away. He storms off the field, a sore loser like always. The media has swamped the turf, all trying to get a clip or soundbite, intuiting how big of a game this was for both teams, even if they’re on the wrong track about the underlying reasons.
Despite losing the game, Desmond hugs Hunter, the two of them squeezing each other tightly. That’s what friendship and sportsmanship look like—Desmond gave it his all tonight, and he’s not mad at the Pulse win. He wanted this for Hunter.
And because we’re together, maybe even for me.
The second they part, Oakley and another player lift Hunter in the air as if he weighs nothing, celebrating what this win means to my guy.
When he’s on his feet again, Hunter scans the crowd, but in all the commotion, struggles to find us.
A reporter grabs him, holds a mic in front of Hunter, speaking with him. It’s hard to see his face, but I don’t doubt he’s wearing the biggest smile. He wipes the sweat off his face as he finishes the interview, then follows his team into the locker room.
It will be a while until Hunter can leave.
He’ll need to do the postgame press conference first. But we have passes and make our way to the family waiting room, Isla and Michelle still high from the win, and while I am too, it’s like everything is finally catching up with me, creating this tornado in my head.
I can feel the sweat on my hairline, and Michelle stops, concern creasing her brow.
“Are you okay?” she asks, hand on my back.
“Yeah…I just…need a minute.”
She nods, looking reluctant.
“I’m okay. Everything just caught up with me.”
“All right. I’ll check on you in a minute. I’m here if you need me.”
Isla gives me a sad smile as the door closes behind her and Michelle.
I walk down the quiet hallway, find a cubbyhole where I’m not in view, and slink into it.
My back hits the wall, and I slide down it, hands in my hair, breaths coming out too quickly.
I try to slow them, to get ahold of myself, try to make sense of my life and Hunter being mine, winning this game, and… my phone rings.
Without looking, I somehow know who it is. This time, I answer.
“Are you okay?” Mom asks. “This has to be a lot. I know you keep going, keep pushing through, but then you crash, and I just needed to make sure you’re okay.”
She’s right. I do that. I’m doing that now. She knows…and she called.
“Trying to be,” I admit, fully aware I should be much happier than I am right now. “Do you hate me?”
“No, Lucas. I could never hate you, and I’m so sorry you even have to ask me that. I just want you to be happy. I always just want you to be happy. I haven’t done a good job showing you that.”
“You tried,” I say, but then add, “You could have tried more.” Because it’s true and I need her to know.
“I’ll do better. I promise you. I…I can’t believe your father did that. He didn’t even tell me about you and Hunter before saying that in an interview. You didn’t deserve that, neither of you did, and I can’t…I can’t pretend it’s okay anymore. I can’t make excuses for him anymore.”
I sit up straighter. “What do you mean?”
“I asked for a divorce. I didn’t want to text that to you.
I know it’s better to talk about it in person, but I need you to know.
I can’t do this with him anymore. I never should have let him hurt either of you, to put so much pressure on both you and Ellis, but I’m done now.
I can’t forgive this. The way he tried to hurt you…
” Her voice breaks, and then she lets loose, crying into the phone.
Silent tears stream down my face too, and I quickly wipe them away.
Mom and I have a lot to talk about, a lot to discuss, but for the first time in my life, I feel she’s really choosing me.
“It’s okay, Mom. We’ll figure it out. Michelle is staying here through Christmas.
We’ll do something at Hunter’s. Isla will be there as well. I’d really love it if you could come.”
“I’ll be there,” she promises. “I love you, Lucas, so much, and I’m happy for you and Hunter.”
“I love you too. And I love him. I’ve always loved him.” Maybe I shouldn’t admit that, but I want her to know the truth.
“I could tell you had a crush on him when you were younger. That must’ve been difficult.”
“It was, but we didn’t… I never… I wouldn’t have done that to Ellis.” I don’t know why it hits me in this moment, that I wouldn’t have ever hurt my brother that way. I lied to myself for years, made myself the bad guy, but I would have never betrayed my brother. I loved him.
“I know,” she replies, and I swipe at the tears on my cheeks.
We talk for a couple more minutes, before I say, “I need to go. Can we talk later tonight? We’ll plan your visit here.”
“Yes, Lucas. I’d love that.”
We end the call, and I push to my feet, the noise in my head quieted. I have everything I need now…Mom, Michelle, Isla…and Hunter. The man I have always and will always love.
I return to the family waiting room. The door shoves open just as I reach it, and Isla says, “Get in here. I was coming to get you.” She grabs my arm and tugs me into the room.
It’s empty other than her and Michelle, the large television playing the press conference from after the game.
“That was a beautiful touchdown tonight,” one of the reporters tells Hunter.
“My favorite one I’ve ever scored, I think,” Hunter admits.
“What did it mean to win this game tonight, beating your boyfriend’s father, the guy who’s been like a father to you too?” another reporter asks.
Hunter wipes a hand over his face, then takes a drink from his water bottle.
“Every game is important. Every time I play, I want to win,” he says, giving the stock, PR-approved answer, but then adds, “I can’t pretend I didn’t want this one even more.
Things change sometimes, people and relationships change, sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse.
I needed this win tonight, but regardless, I know who I am and what I want.
I’m excited to go home and share this victory with Lucas, my partner.
” He looks at the camera. “Love you, baby.”
And then, before the conference is over, Hunter stands up and walks out.
The room goes wild, probably because none of them had expected him to leave or because of how he spoke about me. That wasn’t something he and Ellis ever did. They didn’t talk about their feelings to the press. It’s not the kind of relationship they had, and I expected it to be the same for us.
Not everyone will know what he meant, how things have changed with him and my father, but the people who matter know. I know. And he made sure everyone knows he loves me.
Isla squeezes my hand. “Swoon!”
“No shit,” I reply, unable to hide the smile on my face.