Yours All Along (11 page)

Hunter sighed. “I don’t want to hurt you . . . your ribs.”

“Right.” His ribs. Sure.

“Good night, Dev.”

“Night, Hunt.”

It took a long time for Devon to fall asleep, but eventually his body gave in. He never heard the bedroom door open and shut. He never heard Hunter leave. He didn’t hear anything at all until the shrill ringing of the phone in the early-morning hours. Devon barely found his phone in time, his brain fuzzy and his bones hurting. “Hello?”

“Devon Crowe?” the voice barked.

Devon blinked, trying to shake the sleep off. “Uh-huh.”

“We need you down at the hospital right away. There’s been an accident.”

Present Day—Dallas

Devon gripped the wheel, watching the mile markers fly by as they headed toward the resort. He didn’t know why he was so angry. Yes, Hunter had bailed on their friendship, but Devon had been the one to let things go too far. And hell, all Hunter had done was taken the advice Devon had given him originally. Devon had told him that if he was bisexual then to choose the other side—find a girl. He’d told Hunter that if he had a choice, to not to ruin everything with his family. Devon had been there, and he wouldn’t wish that kind of alienation on anyone. A crappy family was sometimes better than none. But part of him had started to hope that Hunter would choose him anyway. It’d been a stupid, young-love notion.

“Why did you get in the car that night? Where were you going?” Devon asked.

Hunter shifted in the seat next to him, not looking his way. “I couldn’t sleep. And all I could think about was how unfair it all was. I had all these mixed-up feelings for you. You were my best friend. But there was this attraction. And if I did anything about it for real, my life would fucking blow up around me. My family would freak. My teammates would ostracize me. The press would run with the story of the conservative senator’s son going gay. I’d have to put up with idiots and their prejudices. It just all felt so hard. Overwhelming.”

“Not worth it,” Devon said, his voice flat.

Hunter frowned. “I didn’t know up from down. I went downstairs and started drinking again. And then the house felt claustrophobic. I thought maybe if I took a drive, I could clear my head. I just wanted some air, some distance. I wanted to think through options. I didn’t realize how drunk I was.”

Devon shook his head. “I can still remember getting the call that morning. I’ve never been so fucking scared in my life.”

Hunter looked over at him. “I’m so sorry, Dev. Truly. I was an idiot. I still have nightmares where I run into someone else and not just a tree. And I’m sorry it was your car that I took. Mine was blocked in from some people who stayed over after the party.”

He sighed. “I didn’t care about the car. Your dad thought that was the biggest issue. He sent me a new one afterward.”

Hunter’s eyes went wide. “He what?”

“He warned me to keep away from you, but I could have a Mercedes in exchange for my trouble. Nice, right? I told him to keep the fucking car.”

Hunter rubbed the spot between his eyebrows. “He’s such a prick. He thinks he can control everything with his money.”

“That’s because people like him usually can.”

“You mean like he did with me.”

Devon took the exit for the resort. “For what it’s worth, I don’t blame you for choosing what you did over a friendship with me. I wish you would’ve called and let me know you were okay, but I get it. I never expected you to give up anything for me. It was just college. We were young and stupid and horny.”

“Hey, we were
not
stupid,” Hunter said, sending him a mock-serious look.

Devon laughed. “Fair enough. The other two we had in spades, though.”

Hunter smiled briefly and then peered out at the road again, his mood shifting, voice quiet. “I always planned to call you once I had my feet under me and didn’t have to depend on my family anymore.”

Devon eased off the gas and pulled onto the tree-lined road that led to the resort. “Majors not paying so well these days?”

Hunter frowned in Devon’s periphery. “I picked up the phone a few times but then didn’t know what I would say, so I didn’t call. Then things got busy with the team and I met Macy and . . .”

“And here we are.”

“Yeah.”

“No, I mean, we’re here. This is where you’re staying.”

Hunter looked up at the sprawling stone building as if registering that they had a destination for the first time. “Oh. Right.”

“Want me to pull around the front to drop you off, or did you already check in?”

“No, don’t. I mean, I haven’t checked in yet, but . . .”

Devon slowed the car and turned to look at him. “But what?”

“Do you want to come up?”

Devon lifted his brows.

“I don’t mean—shit, not like that.” He adjusted his ball cap in a way Devon had seen him do time and again on TV after a bad pitch. “I just mean to talk, to catch up. I know it’s late and you probably want to get home, but—”

“I can come up for a few minutes.” The words were out before Devon could evaluate them. Dammit. Going up to his room was all kinds of a bad idea. Hunter was obviously going through something, and Devon knew people did crazy ill-advised crap before they got married. He did not want to be that crap for Hunter. But he also couldn’t walk away from Hunter again, leaving things unfinished still, even if sitting here with him was like poking a hot knife into an old wound.

“Okay.” Hunter nodded, relief touching his eyes. “All right.”

Devon parked the car and waited in the lobby while Hunter got his room key. The check-in process took forever, and when Hunter stepped up next to him, he had a printed itinerary in his hand.

Devon eyed it. “What the hell is that?”

Hunter sniffed. “Apparently Macy signed me up for everything except a damn bikini wax. I thought I was here to relax, not to have a packed schedule.”

Devon took the sheet from him. “Hmm, a mandarin orange sugar scrub. That sounds like something I’d serve at the restaurant.”

“There’s also a rubdown with some sort of butter. Maybe they have a food fetish.”

Devon smirked. “If we were still friends, I’d make a really inappropriate joke right now.”

Hunter’s gaze met his, regret sitting there. “So no chance of us being friends again?”

Devon handed the paper back to him, some undefined emotion etching its way through his chest. “I don’t know, big man. Feels so complicated now. Plus, in case you haven’t noticed, you’re a pretty big deal. Probably not much room in your life for old friends.”

Hunter looked like he might say something else but then grabbed the handle of his luggage and turned away. They made their way to the elevator, and Devon tried not to think about the last time they’d shared an elevator, the way Hunter had held him, what had happened afterward. The years hadn’t dimmed that memory. Every moment was seared right into his DNA.

Hunter pressed the button for the fifth floor. “Truth is, there’s not much room in my life for anything lately. Including, you know, having a life.”

Devon gripped his keys in his pocket like a touchstone. Grip. Let go. Grip. Let go. He still hated damn elevators. And this one felt exceptionally small with Hunter’s looming presence in it. “I thought baseball was your dream.”

“Baseball was my ticket out. Not my dream. Different.” He took off his hat, ran a hand through his messy hair, and tucked the bill of his cap in his back pocket.

Devon frowned and fought the urge to smooth a part of Hunter’s curls that were sticking up. “And did it work? Did it get you out?”

The doors whooshed open, and they stepped into a quiet hallway. Hunter turned to him and hooked his thumbs in his pockets. “Want to know the truth? No bullshit?”

Devon crossed his arms. “Sure.”

“Financially, I’m free. In every other way, I’m deeper in the shit than I ever was before. I’m drowning, Dev. I’m living someone else’s life, and I’m not sure what to do about it.”

***

Hunter didn’t know where the words had come from, but there they were, sitting heavy in the middle of the hallway and bleeding at his feet. The truth. That’s what it was. Ugly and pulsing and desperate.

And Devon was just staring at him.

But Hunter couldn’t stop the confessions from flooding out now that the spigot had been opened. “I hate the media attention. My dad has somehow made my career about him. Baseball’s fine, but I know I don’t love it like my teammates do. And I’m getting married and don’t really know why.”

“Because you love her,” Devon said, his voice echoing in the cavernous hallway.

“What?”

“You’re marrying her because you love her. You said
I love you
in the text.”

Hunter leaned against the wall and ran a hand over his jaw. “I’m not even sure I understand what that means anymore. I care about her. She’s a great girl. But . . .”

“But what, Hunt?”

He closed his eyes for a second, trying to find the words. “But most of the time, all I want to do is run. From her. From my life. From everything. I dream about it. Getting in the car and just taking off—new name, new job, new start. Nothing feels like it fits.”

Devon tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling. Maybe he hoped it would hold answers for what to do with the crazy man who’d shown up on his proverbial and literal doorstep. After a moment, he looked at Hunter again. “Let’s get to your room and sit down. Now I need a drink.”

Hunter nodded, but his skin itched like it was too small for his body, everything feeling tight, claustrophobic. He’d spoken from his gut, but now those feelings were out there, taunting him to deal with them. He grabbed the room card from his pocket and rolled his suitcase toward the corner suite, Devon following. Hunter just needed to take a breath and calm down. He probably was still feeling effects from the booze, and this internal crisis would abate. He slid the key into the reader and opened the door.

The room that greeted him on the other side was opulent—rustic elegance in a way only Texas could do—natural woods and Austin stone, warm colors. It was a suite fit for the governor. But that’s not what had him backing up a step. Sitting on the couch in the living area was a lithe brunette wearing a silky pink robe. She stood when she saw him and smiled. “Well, it’s about time. I thought you weren’t going to show.”

Devon stepped up behind him but halted when he realized they weren’t alone. He leaned close to Hunter. “Who the hell is that? Isn’t your fiancée blond?”

Hunter didn’t have time to ask Devon how he knew what his fiancée looked like. He was too busy trying to answer the first question himself. He stepped inside, Devon following close behind. “Um, ma’am, I think you have the wrong room.”

She smiled a seductive smile as she gave him an up-and-down look. “Oh, no, I’m in the right place.” She waltzed over and handed him an envelope. “And I didn’t plan for two of you, but I bet we could work something out.”

Hunter blinked and looked down at the envelope, recognizing Macy’s looping handwriting. What the fuck? He pulled out the card.

Babe,

I know that things have been tough for you lately, and you’ve been so wonderful and patient with my decision to wait. But I also know men have needs. I arranged for Delilah to give you a massage with a nice finale. I won’t ask questions. I told her she can touch you as long as you don’t touch her. Consider this a very special spa treatment.

Love you,

Macy

“You’ve got to be freaking kidding me,” he muttered. His sweet-as-sunshine girlfriend had set him up for a rubdown and a hand job? Unbelievable.

Devon leaned over his shoulder, reading the card. “Holy shit.”

Delilah smiled. “Ready to get started?”

“Huh?” Hunter looked down at her. She was sexy in that sophisticated, man-eater kind of way. Definitely not a girl who was making her money walking the streets. He’d seen her type at team parties. Beautiful. Skilled. And discreet. A high-end escort, no doubt. Macy wouldn’t have chosen anything less. Though he was floored she’d chosen anyone at all. Who the hell did that?

No one. And especially not girls like Macy.

That’s when he realized what this was.

Another test. Another of Macy’s hoops to jump through.

Mother. Fucker.

He held up a finger, letting Delilah know he needed a minute, and then yanked his phone from his pocket. He hit a button and put it to his ear, his other fist balling with rising anger. The phone rang a few times and was one ring away from rolling over to voice mail when Macy answered.

“Hey, baby,” she said, her voice soft but way too alert to be fresh from sleep. She’d been awake, waiting.

“Hey.”

“Everything okay?”

“Mace, what the hell are you doing?”

She laughed, the sound a little too lilting, forced. “You made it to your hotel room, I presume.”

“Answer my question.”

“I know it’s a little crazy, but thought I would do something nice for you.”

“
Nice?
”

“Yeah. You’ve been so stressed, I thought maybe . . . Is she not pretty enough? I tried to choose a woman I thought you’d like,” she said, her words careful.

“She’s gorgeous,” he said, wanting to be mean all of a sudden. “Knockout body. Killer rack.”

Delilah grinned at the compliment and put her hand to her hip, striking a pose.

“Great,” Macy said, her tone going tart. “Should be a fun night for you, then.”

“I’m sending her home.” He gave Delilah a pointed look and cocked his head toward the door. “I’m not interested.”

Delilah lifted a brow but didn’t attempt to debate. She strolled over to the couch and begin putting on the dress she had draped over one of the chairs. She didn’t bother hiding her skimpy lingerie as she shimmied her clothes back on, but apparently, she’d been prepaid, because she looked more than happy to be off the clock.

“Oh?” Macy asked. The bright victory in that one word was so fucking annoying that Hunter wanted to throw the phone. “You sure?”

Devon stepped around him and leaned against the back of the couch, arms crossed, eyes curious.

Hunter wet his lips. “This is where I say that I don’t want any other woman touching me besides you, right? That I’ll wait for as long as I need to because you’re worth it. That you don’t have to ever worry about another woman turning my head.”

He could almost hear her grin over the phone. “Oh, babe, you’re so—”

“I’m not saying it, Mace. That’s what I’m supposed to say.” He turned his back on Devon and began to pace. “But I’m not doing this anymore. I told you I was fine waiting, and I was. I’ve waited without complaint for two years. But this, what you’re trying to do, is bullshit. A relationship isn’t supposed to be about making someone perform like a circus animal.”