Hunter (Campus Kings): A Football Secret Baby Novel (15 page)

Chapter 38

Hunter

"Sorry," I murmur to Britt, taking her hand under
the table.

"No, it'll be fun," she replies with a smile.

"Adam hasn't gone on a date in a while because he was
finishing law school, so he told me he needed moral support," I tell her.

"This place is beautiful," Britt says, looking
around. "Very romantic. Even if there will be four of us," she adds
with a laugh. Danielle comes hurrying up to the table, stops, and turns in a
full circle.

"How do I look? Also, hi," she says.

"You look great," Britt tells her. "Here, we'll
scooch over so you and Adam can sit next to each other." I do my best to
slide over in the booth, trying not to knock anything over. It clearly wasn't
made for someone of my size.

Just as Danielle sits, Adam comes walking over. "I hope
I'm not late," he says. "Danielle, great to see you again," he
adds, kissing her on the cheek. "Don't get up," he tells Britt and
me, sliding in next to Danielle.

I order a bottle of champagne from the waiter, and Adam
leans in conspiratorially. "So, Britt, you're the mystery woman."

"Sorry?" she asks.

"I always knew Hunter was up to something our senior
year. You sure know how to keep a secret, huh?"

"So does she," I add with a smile, and Britt
winces but laughs.

"And Danielle, you knew, too?" Adam asks, turning
to her.

"I did," she admits. "But don't feel left
out. I'm the only other one who knew. Plus, I do feel like I'm kind of
responsible for you two getting together."

"Is that so?" Britt asks.

"Sure, if it hadn't been for me, you never would have
come to the football frat that night," Danielle points out.

Britt laughs, and I can't help but smile. "So you're
suggesting that you did that on purpose?"

"Did what?" Adam asks.

"Don't worry, Danielle," I say as she blushes.
"Adam did far, far worse."

"I got too drunk and was pretty much passed out on the
floor of the bathroom, and Britt had to come rescue me," she fills Adam
in.

"And then I didn't actually know how to rescue
her," Britt adds, "and so Hunter helped out and then carried her
home. That was the night we met."

"Officially, but I'd seen you before that," I tell
her.

"Wait, are you talking about the locker room? I had no
idea you even remembered that!" Britt exclaims.

"Britt caught a glimpse of me in the locker room one
day while I was changing," I explain

"I wasn't trying to be a Peeping Tom or anything! I
just happened to be passing by on my way to see my father."

"But you liked what you saw," I tease her.

"You've got me there," she admits.

"Excuse me?" I look up to see two beautiful girls
standing next to the table. "We're really sorry to bother you, but could
we take a picture with you?" the taller one asks.

"Ah, sure," I reply. I'm happy to take photos with
fans, but when they interrupt a private dinner it is a little frustrating. I
stand up, and they quickly press their bodies against mine and wrap their arms
around my waist. I smile politely for the camera as one holds it out for a
selfie.

"Thank you so much!" they gush, and leave,
checking the photo on the phone to make sure it came out right.

"Sorry," I say as I sit back down. "If I say
no to autographs and stuff, I'll start to get a reputation, and then the
endorsements might get jeopardized. I just have to watch my image."

"I can't imagine what it's like," Adam says.
"I got a fraction of what you do when I played for the Bengals, and my
ex-wife hated it."

"Is that why you…" Danielle hedges.

"That was only a small part of it. I think me being
away for so long was the first crack. We'd just gotten married, and then all of
a sudden I'm gone. Not that it's the same way for everyone," he adds when
he looks at me to find I'm shooting daggers at him.

"I'm sure it's different for every relationship,"
Danielle adds, trying to smooth things over. I glance down to see Britt trying
to nervously tear her napkin, only to find that it's made of cloth.

"Exactly. I mean you're a star, so if you're traded,
you have the resources to get a great place anywhere. So it'd be much
easier," Adam adds.

"Max will be starting school soon," Britt points
out quietly. "So it wouldn't be
that
easy."

"What's everyone getting?" Danielle asks brightly,
scanning her eyes down the menu. Everyone plays along with her obvious change
of subject, but I can tell Britt's mind is elsewhere during the meal.

In the car ride back to my house, she's just as quiet.
"Adam's relationship isn't the same as ours," I say in the car as
Britt stares out the window.

"I know. I'm sorry," she says, reaching across the
console for my hand. "It's just that a lot of things are changing, and
it's hard for me to keep up."

"I wish I didn't have to leave tomorrow," I tell
her. It's playoff season, and the Titans are hitting the road again.

"We still have tonight," she replies with a smile.

Chapter 39

Britt

I wake up and stretch, marveling at how soft my sheets feel,
then remember that they're not my sheets. I'm in Hunter's bed, at his house. I
glance over at the clock. It's just after ten, and my dad told me he can take
care of Max until his afternoon practice, so I have plenty of time before I
need to get back home. I sit up, and see that Hunter has left a note for me at
the foot of the bed.

I had to leave for the airport, but didn't want to wake
you. Help yourself to anything in the house. The door will lock behind you and
the gate is on motion sensors.

I smile at his terrible handwriting, but read the note
again. Is it just my imagination, or does it sound a little brusque? Why, for
example, didn't he write "Love, Hunter" at the end? I shake my head.
Maybe I'm just being paranoid.

I roll out of bed and pad over to the bureau. It's rare for
me to have time by myself, so I want to enjoy it. I pull on a pair of Hunter's
boxers and an old Vanover sweatshirt. It's huge on me, but I roll up the
sleeves. I almost trip over my dress from last night, so I pick it up from the
ground and fold it neatly on the bench at the end of the bed.

I wander down the hallway, and decide to look around. Max
and I could be moving in here, so I don't really feel like I'm snooping. I
laugh as I open the door to the third empty room on the other end of the
hallway. The house is so big that Hunter clearly has no idea what to do with so
much space.

I head downstairs. At least all the rooms on this level are
furnished. On one side of the foyer is a giant great room, and the other side has
the open concept kitchen with a dining table that could seat sixteen
linebackers. My gaze shifts to the row of windows on the back of the house. I
head toward them and open one of the doors.

In my bare feet, I pad out onto a large, flagstone patio. There's
an in-ground pool out here that I hadn't seen before, with a hot tub in the
corner. I continue out past the stones and onto the grass. I see the small lake
I noticed on my first visit, all the way out by the tree line. I step toward
it, but a bell ringing inside draws me back.

I hurry through the kitchen and into the marble foyer as it
rings again. I frown as I realize it's the doorbell...shouldn't the gate have
buzzed first? I look through the keyhole and am surprised to see Rich and
another man I don't know. I guess Hunter must have given him the gate code.

"Hi, Rich," I say opening the door. "Hunter's
not here."

"He's my client. I know he has a game," he tells
me a little smugly. "I called your house, and your father told me you were
here. Can we come in?"

"Um, sure," I reply, opening the door wider.
"So you were looking for me, then? Why?" I ask.

"May we sit?" Rich asks, looking toward the great
room.

"Of course," I reply, walking in with them. I feel
awkward in my strange outfit, but am more concerned with why he's acting so
cagey. Rich and the other man take the couch, and I sit expectantly in an
armchair. 

"I'll get right to the point, Britt," Rich says
with a friendly smile. "John here is a lab technician. We need your
permission to test your son's DNA."

"Excuse me?"

"It's nothing personal. We just need to confirm that
Max and Hunter share the same DNA."

"You mean you want to make sure Max is really his
son," I reply, anger immediately pulsing through my brain.

"Bluntly put, yes. We'd be happy to drive you back to
your home, and we could take the sample and get this whole thing over with.
It's just a simple mouth swab."

"I'd like you to leave now," I say, standing.

"This isn't the first time this has happened to Hunter.
A woman a couple years ago showed up asking him for child support, and it
turned out it wasn't his child. It's quite common in the world of—"

 "I haven't asked Hunter for anything!" I
snap.

"If Max really is Hunter's son, then there's no need to
get emotional."

"I'm calling Hunter," I say, storming to the
stairs.

"Hunter wants this to happen," Rich calls after
me.

"What did you just say?" I stop in shock.

"He asked me to get this done while he's gone. It's
just a precaution. He wants to make sure his image is protected."

I go cold at his words, so close to what Hunter himself said
about his image last night.

"I see."

"So if you'd like to get your things, we could take you
back to—"

"No. I understand you're just doing your job, but no.
Please leave."

"But—"

"Leave!" I almost yell, my emotion at a breaking
point.

"It didn't have to be this way," Rich says, but he
and the lab technician move toward the door. They shut it behind them and I
stand frozen in the foyer for a moment, my chest heaving. My face breaks and
furious tears start running down my cheeks. I hurry upstairs and pull off
Hunter's clothes, then put my dress back on.

I tear out of the driveway and head back toward my dad's
house. My house. I feel so humiliated, having to stand in front of Rich and
that stranger while they accuse me of lying. How could Hunter do this to me?

I thought he was the same person I got to know in college,
but maybe I was wrong. The fame and the success have changed him.

Chapter 40

Hunter

I frown down at my phone and toss it into my bag. Still no
word from Britt. I called her hours ago to make sure she got home okay, and
then again, and then two more times after that when my anxiety started to get
the better of me. What if something happened to her?

Or what if she's left me again?

No...she wouldn't do that again, right? Still, this gnawing
feeling won't leave my stomach even as we take the field. The only other time
she hasn't returned my messages is when she left me back in college. That's the
only precedent I have to go on.

Still, this Lions defense doesn't give a shit about my
personal life. They only want to grind me into the dirt.

From the very first snap, I can tell I'm off. My arm feels
stiff and like it's not connected to my body. I start to overanalyze. Even
though I know I'm doing it, it's still impossible to stop.

"You're over-correcting!" Coach Mularkey yells as
I head toward the bench after failing to convert on the third down. I nod. I
know, I just don't know what the hell to do to stop it.

In the second quarter, I insist on calling running plays. I
don't trust myself right now, and I need my teammates to pick up some of the
slack. Thankfully, the Lions are surprised by the tactic and we manage to score
a touchdown, leaving the game tied at the half.

In the locker room, some teammates offer encouragement, but
more stay away. They can tell my head's not in the right place, and most of
these guys aren't really talkers. The offensive coordinator pulls me aside and
tells me my release point is a little later than usual, which is at least
something I can work on.

The second half goes no better for me, but hanks to our
defense, the Lions don't score any more touchdowns either. On our last
possession, I drive us far enough downfield that our kicker is able to score a
field goal, and we win by three.

The press conference afterward is painful. I have my phone
in my lap and keep glancing down at it, but still no word from Britt. Now I'm
sure something's wrong. The reporters ask question after question, trying to
get me to reveal something about my lackluster performance today, but it's not
like I can clue them in.

"I had an off day. I'm not making excuses, just is what
it is. Thankfully, my teammates really stepped up and we managed to pull it
through," I reply shortly, and glare at our publicist, letting him know
that he better get me off this fucking stage before I explode.

I know it's late, but on the way back to the airport I give
Coach McKay a call. Maybe Britt had a car accident on the way back to their
house. There's no answer, which surprises me. It's late, and Coach is always
home early.

I drive back to my house, hoping that Britt left me a note
or something. "Britt?" I call out as I enter, just in case. My voice
echoes in the foyer, and my house feels empty and soulless. I head upstairs to
my bedroom where I left her, and see a pair of boxers and an old sweatshirt of
mine tossed on the floor. That's weird. Britt's so neat and conscientious.

Something's definitely wrong. I try her house again.

"Hello?" Coach answers.

"Thank god. Have you talked to Britt? I'm
worried."

"Yes, she's here," he answers shortly.

"Can I talk to her?"

There's a long pause, and from the muffled sounds I think
he's asking Britt. "She doesn't want to talk."

"What? Why? Is she okay?"

"No, she's not," Coach snaps. "Don't call
here, and don't come by." I hear the phone click before I can say anything
else.

What the fuck?