“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.Iknow. 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.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Hunter
I’m so gladthe Pulse don’t have a game this Christmas. Leading up to the holiday and the day after, life is back to normal, but for this one day, we have our family together. Most of the people who matter, at least. Mom is still here with Lucas and me. Isla came over, of course, and Abbie got here a few days ago. She and Lucas have been spending quality time together, which they both need, and she’ll be staying a few more days. It’s been nice having her around, feeling her acceptance, though it’s something we’re all still getting used to.
While Ellis is buried back home in Kansas City, Lucas, our moms, and I went to some of Ellis’s favorite places in LA, remembering and honoring him. I don’t want to lose who he was to me because I’m in love with his brother, and Lucas doesn’t want his memories of his brother to fade either. It was nice to simply remember Ellis in ways I haven’t let myself do in a long time. I think we all needed to do that together.
“Smells good,” Oakley says. He’s here celebrating with us. Serena and Tiana went to see her family, but he didn’t go. I wish Des could’ve come too, but it didn’t make sense for him to fly out for one day. I miss spending time with him, though, and wish he were closer.
“That’s because I’m really fucking good at smoking aturkey,” I tell him.
“Eh, that’s because you haven’t tasted mine,” he teases, running a hand over his newly buzzed hair. “How come your boy’s not here?”
I raise a brow. “My boy is in the house,” I reply. Oakley and I are out here by ourselves while the others are inside. I love that we can barbecue on Christmas in LA.
“Not him. Fucking Desmond.”
Okay…well, that’s weird. “Didn’t have the time to fly out. Why?”
“No reason. You and he spend a lot of time together on your time off, so I’m just glad he’s not here to annoy me,” he grumbles, making me chuckle.
Soon, our potluck dinner is ready. Oak brought sweet-potato pie, and Lucas made mashed potatoes with a secret ingredient he wouldn’t tell me about. Mom prepared her homemade stuffing, which she knows is my favorite. Isla got the roasted vegetables, and Abbie took care of appetizers. My house is louder than usual, and I love it, the sounds of laughter and conversation filling the space.
When dinner is over, Abbie and I end up together in the kitchen, alone for the first time since she arrived.
“I should clean up this mess,” she says.
“No. Don’t worry about it. You’re a guest.”
