Page 91 of Hard to Lose

Shit. I hate this.

Tears form in my eyes. Apart from my family, it’s never mattered so much that someone not think badly of me. Knowing Gunner may hate me for dodging the truth is tearing me apart.

I love him. Simple as that. But I know I won’t know his love in return. I’ll have to leave before I can feel that. And that is the worst type of pain.

I’ll hurt, but as I’ve thought before, he doesn’t deserve to be hurt anymore.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Chase

“I’ll get that contract over to you ASAP. I’m sorry it’s late, I’m just a little buried right now,” I say as I look out the open reception window into the gymnasium area where Joey and Robbie are practicing their free throws.

“Buried? Since when do you get buried? You’re a badass, Kincade,” Darius Tomlinson, three-time Pro-Bowler and one of my long-standing clients, says with a laugh.

“I get buried. Now get your ass back on the field and prove to me you’re worth every penny I just negotiated for you.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I end the call and drop my cell on the desk.

“Get your ass back on the field?” a voice from behind me says, causing me to nearly jump out of my shoes. “Negotiations?”

“Ellie. My God.” I whirl around. “You just scared the shit out of me.”

How much did you hear?

My heart is in my throat as I stare at her and wonder what she heard.

“Sorry. I was just coming to hand over some checks that a few parents gave me when they dropped their kids off. I didn’t mean to interrupt your negotiations,” she says. I hate the feeling that she’s asking me to explain without asking me.

“Negotiations.” I chuckle, thinking on the fly. “That was my cousin. He’s in college. I negotiated with his mom to buy him a new pair of cleats if he wins his upcoming game.”

The lie rolls easily off my tongue and I hate that it does. That this is what I’ve resorted to, but it’s necessary to keep this ruse up.

“Oh, and here I was selfishly and now embarrassingly hoping it was about the gear for The Center.” Her cheeks flush.

“That’s coming too. I promise. I heard back from my friend and he’s gotten the baseball team, the Austin Aces, to contribute new gear and uniforms for the kids. We also have a new sports court coming courtesy of the NHL team the Lumberjacks, as well as some new turf as a donation from the New York Raptors.”

Her eyes widen and her surprise makes me feel good about doing this. About helping The Center out. About helping to make a difference in some small capacity.

“That’s amazing,” she says. “Gunner didn’t tell me all of that.”

“I think he’s holding his breath to see it happen first, and I totally understand that, but I’m going to make it happen.” But when I glance back toward the gym area, I’m immediately drawn to the doorway when I see Joey pointing to Gunner’s neck.

“What are those?” Joey asks, his voice loud and innocent.

“What are what?” Gunner asks, half distracted with showing Robbie how to roll the basketball off his fingertips.

“Those red marks on your neck,” Joey continues. “Nick said they’re from where you were abducted by aliens, but I think you were hurt.”

Gunner stops what he’s doing and turns to give his full attention to Joey. “Nick is wrong and you were right,” he says, his voice softening as he lowers himself to the floor and sits cross-legged so he’s eye level with Joey. “Would you like to see them?”

Joey nods slowly, earnest and cautious eyes staring at Gunner as if he’s not sure if he should be embarrassed that he asked.

“Sure,” Gunner says and proceeds to pull his shirt over his head. I’m used to what they look like so I don’t flinch at the sight of the angry, red scars. But there is something about seeing him there, shirtless and vulnerable, being stared at by eight little boys that makes them seem so devastating.

The reactions of the boys are a mixture of gasps and whoas, but Gunner just sits there as if it’s not a big deal to be sitting there and stared at.