Page 59 of Still Missing You

Hunter’s jaw tightens. “Coach Vernon? He never said anything to me.”

“He wouldn’t have,” I say softly. “That wasn’t the point.”

The memory rises unbidden, vivid and sharp. The fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. The smell of sweat and rubber mats. The way Coach Vernon’s face had gone hard and cold when he told me he saw us, his expression twisting with disgust.

I swallow. “He pulled me aside afterward. Told me I was a distraction, that I wanted to ruin your future because I didn’t have one of my own.”

I’d been a fuck-up back then. Everything I touched turned to shit, and I knew it. But I would never have let any of that touch Hunter. Not then, and not now.

His brow furrows. “How could you ruin my future?”

I let out a humorless laugh. “Scholarships. Recruitment. Your future.”

Something ugly flickers across Hunter’s face. “He threatened you?”

“Yes,” I say simply.

“He told me if anyone found out about us, it would damage your chances,” I continue. “Scouts wouldn’t be interested in a gay football player. If that happened, you wouldn’t go to university like you wanted.”

Hunter’s hands curl into fists. “Son of a—”

“And there was the joint,” I admit, my voice tightening despite my best efforts. The same joint Vernon caught me smoking behind the gym and used as leverage. “He would have told my parents, and I was one fuck up away from being sent to one of those camps for troubled teens. He must have told them, anyway.”

Hunter’s expression turns stony. “You never told me.”

I shrug. “I didn’t want anyone to know, and I sure as hell didn’t want to drag you down with me. I ruined everything I touched. There was no way I was going to let that happen to you.”

Hunter’s eyes darken. “That’s bullshit.”

“Not back then it wasn’t,” I say. “I’ve changed a lot since then, but in high school, I was an asshole.” Admittedly, I’d been better when I was with Hunter. He’d been so kind and good, he’d made me better, too.

“You never once thought about telling me any of this?”

I shake my head, chest tight. “You would have told Vernon to go to hell.”

“You’re fucking right, I would have.”

“And what good would that have done? You would have lost everything, and I still would have been sent away. You wanted out of Burlington so badly. College. Football. A future that didn’t look like working three jobs just to keep the lights on.”

Hunter looks away, jaw flexing.

“Your mom was doing everything she could,” I continue. “Working double shifts. Taking whatever overtime she could get. You didn’t have the kind of safety net I did.”

I laugh quietly, bitterly. “I could afford to screw up. You couldn’t.”

Hunter’s voice is rough when he speaks. “You don’t get to decide that for me.”

“I know,” I say. “But I did. And I’m sorry.”

The bar noise swells around us, but our table feels suspended in time.

“That night,” I say, “I snuck out of my room. Climbed down the trellis like an idiot. I went to see you because I couldn’t say it over the phone.”

My throat tightens at the memory of his face when he opened the door. Sleepy. Happy. Trusting.

“I told you we were done,” I whisper. “I told you it was a mistake. I watched you believe me.”

Hunter squeezes his eyes shut.