Feeling as though I’d done all I could, I headed back to my parent’s house.
I woke upthe next morning still feeling sore, but happy. I was going to see Hunter again. He’d said he’d be by around ten thirty to pick me up. It wasn’t quite seven thirty, so I reached for my journal…
Had I taken it with me yesterday?
Except it hadn’t been in my bag. I was certain of that. I was feeling more than a little freaked out at the thought of losing it. To have somebody else read it would be… sickening. My stomach flipped upside down at the thought.
God, and I’d written stuff about Hunter.
A horrible foreboding started seeping into me. After practically turning my room upside down, I had to come to the conclusion that it was gone.
Hopefully some bum had it. Along with my phone. And he’d thrown them both in the river.
By the time I gave up my search it was after nine. I needed to get ready for my hike with Hunter.
At the sound of thunder followed by leaves blowing against the side of the house and my window, a chill ran through me. Could he cancel if he didn’t get a hold of me?
I pulled out my old Keens, my favorite pair of jeans, a long sleeved tee and a windbreaker. In Colorado, where the weather could turn on a dime, we dressed in layers.
Feeling edgy and nervous as ten thirty drew near, I pulled my hair into a pony tail and applied some mascara and eye-liner. And a little lipstick.
One minute my heart sang in anticipation at seeing him and the next it weighed heavily in the pit of my stomach.
Ten fifteen. I pulled open the drapes in the front room and opened my laptop. Maybe Hunter’s e-mail was at the team website… something for fans? Even though I doubted it, I figured it didn’t hurt to look.
I typed in Colorado Rangers. New news flashed on the home page.
A Press Conference is scheduled for three in the afternoon today to address the falsified information, as reported by Star Martin of the Star Martin Morning Show, that Pitcher Hunter DeLuca was dissatisfied with his decision to play in Colorado. Hunter has the full backing of the Rangers and at this time both parties are satisfied with both his contract and performance.”
Oh no! Oh no! Oh no!
Hunter had told me that his agent wanted him to leave but that he intended to play out the remainder of his career in Denver, if left up to him. I’d written something to that affect in my journal. And how happy it made me. To think he wasn’t going anywhere.
I typed in the address for Star’s website and my stomach lurched. In horrified revulsion, I watched as my worst nightmare opened up on the screen.
Tell All Exclusive, the headline read. A weekend in bed with Colorado’s Playboy Pitcher, Hunter Deluca.
My words… but twisted… My private thoughts. Descriptions. A picture of me. The picture Hunter had texted me. Stock video of Hunter. Old quotes from his ex-wife.
This wasn’t happening.
I needed to talk to him. To tell him! But what do I tell him? That I’d been a fool. Star had obviously taken my journal and phone from my bag while I’d packed up my stuff in the office.
I glanced at the ancient grandfather clock by the door. Ten forty-five.
A sob tore through me. He wouldn’t be coming.
The rest ofthe day, although not the worst in my life, presented itself as a close second. Or third. The first was when I’d found Bernadette, the next probably her funeral. Yeah, today was the third.
After about thirty minutes of staring out the window, hoping that somehow Hunter would come by, I finally drew myself back to reality.
He’d thought I was a reporter before, on Saturday. And he’d hated me for it. I’d assured him in no uncertain terms that I had no allegiance to that show, no desire to pursue anything to do with it.
Not having my phone, or his number even, I felt like my hands were tied. I’d told him I would never lie about something like that. I’d asked him to come to me if he wanted to know the truth.
I’d been disgusted by the way he acted but upon hearing his explanation, I’d understood.
I had to talk to him.
