(Campus Kings #1) Hunter - Celia Loren

By Celia Loren A Hearts Collective Novel



Copyright © 2016 Hearts Collective All rights reserved. This document may not be reproduced in any way without the expressed written consent of the author. The ideas, characters, and situations presented in this story are strictly fictional, and any unintentional likeness to real people or real situations is completely coincidental. * * * Also From Celia Loren: HARD FOUGHT (A Stepbrother Warriors Novel) by Celia Loren HARD TACKLE (A Stepbrother Warriors Novel) by Celia Loren Quarterback BAIT (A Stepbrother Romance) by Celia Loren Naked Choke (A Stepbrother MMA Romance) by Celia Loren The Vegas Titans Series Devil’s Kiss (Widowmakers Motorcycle Club) by Celia Loren Crushing Beauty (Harbingers of Sorrow MC) by Celia Loren Breaking Beauty (Devils Aces MC) by Celia Loren Wrecking Beauty (Devils Reapers MC) by Celia Loren Destroying Beauty (Hell Hounds MC) by Celia Loren Betraying Beauty (Sons of Lucifer MC) by Celia Loren The Satan’s Sons Series Satan’s Property (Satan’s Sons MC) by Celia Loren Satan’s Revenge (Satan’s Sons MC) by Celia Loren

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HUNTER A Campus Kings Novel * * * By Celia Loren

CONTENTS Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Chapter Twenty-Five Chapter Twenty-Six Chapter Twenty-Seven Chapter Twenty-Eight Chapter Twenty-Nine Chapter Thirty Chapter Thirty-One Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three Chapter Thirty-Four Chapter Thirty-Five Chapter Thirty-Six Chapter Thirty-Seven Chapter Thirty-Eight Chapter Thirty-Nine Chapter Forty Chapter Forty-One Chapter Forty-Two Chapter Forty-Three Chapter Forty-Four

Chapter 1 Britt I sneak a glance over at my roommate. Her breathing changed a bit when my alarm went off a minute ago, but I don't think she's awake. I slowly sit up and ease myself to standing, then walk over to my university-issued chest of drawers. As silently as possible, I pull off my nightgown and step into my underwear. My dad tried to get me to live at home while going to college, but I was dead-set on living in the dorms. Now I wonder if I should have listened to him. It's not just that I feel uncomfortable getting changed in such a small room while someone else is here —hell, I feel uncomfortable with my body when I'm alone in a room—it's just strange to have someone else always around. My roommate Danielle really likes to chat, about everything, especially mindless prattle about the “hot guys” in her classes. "Wow, how often do you work out, Britt?" Danielle asks from behind me. I jump, but still manage to secure my bra straps on top of my shoulders. I pull a t-shirt from the drawer to cover myself as I answer. "Um, I don't really," I reply, turning to respond. She pushes her bright red hair out of her eyes and blinks at me. "Lucky!" she sighs. That's the other thing I have to get used to about Danielle: she's ready to talk the second she wakes up. I'm more the type who likes to putter around for a while, get a cup of coffee, then strike up a conversation. Or just skip the conversation entirely and go straight to the library. "You have like, an ideal body. Like a petite Victoria's Secret model." "Really?" I ask. "I mean, I actually grew a couple inches this past summer." "To what? Five foot two?" "Well, yes," I admit. "My doctor said it's really rare to have a growth spurt that late. Plus, you know, I filled out a little." "I'll say! What are those? C's?" she asks staring at my breasts. I blush and quickly pull on my shirt. "No, no. B's, I think." "You sure? I think you need to get resized. That bra looks like it's about to bust open." Noticing my stunned expression, she backtracks a little. "Don't mind me, I'm just a jealous surfboard over here. So where are you headed so early? It's Saturday, the day of rest." "I think that's Sunday," I reply, and face the mirror to try to wrangle my unruly, dark brown hair into a pony tail. I glance down at the way my light blue t-shirt stretches over my breasts and frown, but at least

the color matches my eyes. "I'm just going to visit my dad." "Where does he live again?" "No, I mean at work." "Oh, where does he work?" I sigh inwardly. I knew it would have to come out sooner or later. "My dad works for the football team here, actually." I watch as the lightbulb goes off in Danielle's head and her eyes widen. The day I moved in and saw all the university football posters on her wall, I knew we were going to have a problem. "Wait....wait...your dad is Lou McKay? Couch Lou McKay?" she squeals. "I mean, I knew your last name was McKay, but I never put it together. I guess because Coach McKay is such a hard ass, I never pictured him having a daughter. Oh, sorry," she adds, hearing herself out loud. "It's okay, I'm well aware of his reputation." Coach Lou McKay, head of the football program at Vanover University for the last ten years. Known for his winning record, and the fact that no one has ever seen him smile. "That is so awesome," Danielle breathes. I snort under my breath. She might feel differently if she saw things from the other side. Vanover is the only private school in the NCAA's Southeastern Conference, but that doesn't mean the fans are any less rabid. When the team is winning, my father is a god, but where they're losing, adult men think nothing of leaving death threats on our home answering machine. "You have to introduce me to the players!" she adds. "Oh, no. No, no, no," I reply emphatically. "Why not?" she whines. "I don't even know them, for starters. Second, my dad would murder them if he caught them anywhere near me. Plus, they're gross anyway." "Gross?" Danielle repeats, her eyes bugging out of her head. She quickly kneels on her mattress and pulls a Vanover monthly calendar from her wall. "You think Hunter Phillips is gross?" she asks, stuffing the month of September's image under my face. I glance down at the Vanover Tigers' star quarterback. The photographer caught him just as he pulled his football helmet off after a win. A triumphant smile crosses his face as he wipes his dirty blonde hair out of his face with his gloved hand. I can't argue that he's handsome, with his cleft chin and straight, proud nose, but... "Nope, sorry. Football players are Neanderthals, trust me. Even Hunter Phillips." "You're nuts," she says, lying back on her bed and holding the calendar above her head. "He's gorgeous. And word is he's going to be drafted first round into the NFL next year." "I have to get going. And I'm going to the library after, so the room's yours for the day!" I add as I head for the door. "I know what I'll be doing," she says, wiggling her eyebrows at the picture of Hunter Phillips. "Oh my god," I murmur, my face turning scarlet. I quickly shut the door behind me and hurry down the hall.

The air is crisp and warm as I head out of our dorm and across the quad. We live on the freshman campus, which is set apart from the main campus but actually a bit closer to the training facilities, so it's only about a five-minute walk to my father's office. Vanover is located just outside Nashville, and though I was hoping to escape my hometown for college, I have to admit the campus is beautiful. I begged my father to let me apply to the colleges in the Ivy League, but he said there was no way he was letting me go that far away from home, especially when faculty members here get free tuition for their children. So instead of imposing, Gothic structures, I'm surrounded by the comforting red brick and white domes of the Neoclassical style. Except for the athletics facilities, which are modern and state of the art, of course. There's even a special cafeteria here where the athletes have special, more nutritional, and better-tasting, meals. I've been to my dad's office before, so I head inside and take the elevator down to the basement, which opens on the other side to the practice field. My dad has a flashier office on the top floor for when he has to meet with university donors, but I know he never works there unless he has to. He says he prefers to be near his staff and players so he can keep an eye on them. I press my key fob to the sensor next to the heavy swinging door outside of the elevators meant to keep fans and reporters out, and push it open after it beeps. I asked my dad if it was alright for him to give me a pass, and he said that no one was going to question a coach with two NCAA championships under his belt. About halfway down the hallway, I feel my hair pop out of its hairband. I sigh. If I fasten it too tight, my hair breaks, but too loose, and the band falls out. I spot it on the floor and bend over to pick it up. I feel a slight breeze just as my fingers brush against it, and glance up. Oh my god. I'm looking right into the football players' locker room. Someone is holding the door open on their way out as they shout something back toward a teammate, unaware that I'm hunched over right next to the doorway. And standing not twenty feet away from me, clad only in a towel, is star QB Hunter Phillips. I gape at the way his damp ab muscles clench as he throws his head back with a laugh. I've seen pictures of him, but holy shit. They do not do him justice. I didn't think that men could look like this in real life. I glance back up at his face. Fuck! I straighten up with a gasp. He's staring right at me! Move, Britt, move. But my feet are anchored to the ground. I watch as a dangerous grin spreads across his face. In slow-motion, he reaches his hands up to his waist and begins to untuck one end of his towel. He opens it, showing a swath of muscular thigh and then… The door shuts and I jump back. A huge linebacker looks down at me. Always protecting their quarterback, I guess. "You lost?" he asks, eyes twinkling. "I'd be happy to show you around."

"No thanks!" I squeak, my feet finally unstuck. I rush down the hallway toward my dad's office, wishing that the door had closed just one second later.



Chapter 2 Hunter I pick up my towel from the floor, smiling at the expression on the girl's face. She was fucking mesmerized. Not that I haven't seen that expression before, hell, I see it every night in my bedroom, sometimes more than once. But there was something about those big, innocent blue eyes, the way her lips parted and her hair fell around her face... damn. I'm around hot women so much that I've honestly gotten a little numb to it, but this girl has me standing up to attention, literally. I pull a pair of boxers out of my locker and quickly tug them on. I don't really want to explain why I have a rapidly hardening dick in a locker full of sweaty men. "The fuck you smiling about, Phillips?" Adam, my best friend and go-to wide receiver, yells from across the room, and throws a dirty, balled-up towel at me. I sidestep it and nail him in the head with the one I just picked up from the floor. "Just thinking about how your mom looked in my bed last night," I retort. Our teammates guffaw around us as we all get changed after practice. "Dude, my mom would probably love to sleep with you though, for real," Adam replies, shaking his head. "She's like, always, asking about you. I think my stepdad can't get it up." "You guys see that new cheerleader?" Devon asks, emerging from the showers. At 6'7'', he's a couple inches taller than even me. "The blonde?" Adam asks. "She had those big ol' titties you just wanna fuck, you know?" he mimes pressing her breasts together and thrusting his hips against them. "Phillips, we all talked about it, and we decided that you have to have a handicap," Adam says, turning to me. "The fuck are you talking about?" "Tonight. It's the first big party of the year, and the rest of us want a head start," Lucius chimes in. "I understand that coming from you, Lucius. I mean, you're a kicker," I say. The rest of the guys laugh as Lucius rolls his eyes. "But the rest of you? Come on!" "It's true. You always get your pick of the fresh meat, and this year we want our turn first," Devon says. "Seriously? There are hundreds of new girls. That's plenty of pussy to go around," I reason. "You're gonna take the blonde cheerleader just to fuck with me, aren't you?" Devon asks, shaking his head.

"Now I am," I reply with a grin. "But let's make it interesting. I'll give all you dick wipes until 1:00 AM to nail down your respective women for the night, and then I'm showing up. What happens after that is out of my hands." "Damn, Phillips, this is the nicest thing you've ever done," Lucius says, shaking his head appreciatively. "Well, I had two at a time last night, so I'm feeling generous." "Oh, shit! I knew you had a threesome!" Adam crows. "Who was it?" I shrug. "Just these two groupies. They caught me coming outta here after dinner. I don't know their names. I almost never do," I add with a laugh. "And there's your team captain," comes a low growl from the doorway. The rest of the guys jump to attention, but I just lean forward and rest my forearms on my knees as Coach McKay comes striding into the locker room. "I was hoping for a little leadership this year, Phillips, but I can see that's not going to be the case," he snarls. "Now hurry up and get out of here. I'd tell y'all not to drink too much tonight, but I know it won't make any God damned difference." He slams the door behind him as he leaves. The tension leaves the room with him. Coach might be only six foot, too small to have made it in the pros, but he still scares the rest of the team shitless. Not me. I don't care how hard he rides me. The guy just has it in for me, plain and simple. He’s such a prick, too, always scheduling early morning practices on the weekends, just to punish us for partying the night before. What does he expect? It’s fucking college, and we’re football players. At Vanover, that means we’re practically royalty. Sure, it would be nice to have the kind of coach who seemed to actually believe in me, who would talk me up to the pro scouts that are eyeing me, but whatever. He doesn't have to like me, he just has to play me. And barring some major fuck-up on my part, that's exactly what he's going to keep on doing. I'm Hunter fucking Phillips, and nothing's going to stand between me and my NFL contract.



Chapter 3 Britt I stare at a pen on my dad's desk, my gaze soft. All I can think about is Hunter Phillip's hard muscles...the width of his shoulders, the way his biceps seemed to pop off his arms as he reached for his towels. I shift a little in my seat, and am horrified by what I feel. Oh my God...am I wet right now? Get it together, Britt. He's just some muscle-bound jock. The door bursts open behind me and I jump, less because I'm startled and more because I'm feeling guilty over my dirty thoughts. "Sorry I'm late," my dad says as he walks around the chair I'm sitting in and heads to his old swivel back behind his desk. My dad is not a hugger. "Offensive coordinator wanted to tweak a couple plays that weren't working." "No problem." "So how's your first week been?" "Good. I already finished all my homework for this Monday and Tuesday, and I'm going to the library after this to finish the rest of the week's. I told my academic advisor that I'm ready to declare my double majors, but she said to wait a little since I just got here." "That's my girl," he says proudly, hooking his hands behind his head. His hairline is receding and he's got more than a few wrinkles, but I can see why his opponents and players find him intimidating. When he looks at you, he seems to know everything about you, his dark blue eyes resting on you a moment longer than is comfortable. Of course to me, though, he's just my dad. My supremely overprotective dad. "How's your roommate? You said on the phone she talks a lot." "A little," I reply warily, knowing where this conversation is heading. "But she's nice, I think." "Well, your old bedroom is always available if you want to move home." "I know, Dad. But I think I'm going to be fine in the dorms." "There's something I've been meaning to talk to you about," he says seriously, leaning forward on his desk. "Okay..." "Now, I know this is something normally your mother would talk to you about, but here we are." I smile sadly. My mom passed away from ovarian cancer when I was two, so I don't really remember her, but the mention of her still brings up a painful ache in my chest. "It's important, when you, ah, decide that it is time... that you feel that you might want..." I frown at him. It's not like my dad to stumble over his words. Wait, is he blushing?

"Dad!" I interrupt. "If this is, um, a sex talk, then you don't have to. I think I, ah, already know the gist of it." He frowns. "You mean you've already—" "No! No. I just mean I don't think we need to talk about it," I hasten to clarify. "And for the record, most kids get the sex talk when they're like thirteen, not eighteen." "Hm, maybe you're right," my dad admits with a sigh. "Well, you know my view. That you should wait until you're married." "I know," I reply patiently. No need to get into an argument over my father's traditional views on marriage and sexuality. This conversation has already been embarrassing enough. "Then I just have one thing to add," he says, his eyes narrowing to slits. "No football players. No hanging around them. And especially no dating them." "Dad, you know I have no interest in them," I reply with a sigh. "But, for the record, are they really that bad?" "Oh, yes," he says. "In my day, sure, there were a few bad apples. But now, you should hear the things they talk about in the locker room. Or rather, you shouldn't. Look, I respect their dedication to the sport and what they can do on the field, but to continue in this job, I've had to completely separate myself from what they do off of it. These guys see women as less than notches on their bedposts, I'm telling you." I shake my head. "Well, that sounds terrible. And you have nothing to worry about with me, Dad. I have absolutely no interest in them." "Good. Stay far away from them. Especially Hunter Phillips." My eyebrows raise and a slight heat rises to my cheeks. "Why him specifically? Just out of curiosity." "He's the worst of the bunch. Trust me. Hunter Phillips is rotten, right down to his core."



Chapter 4 Hunter I glance at the time on the bottom right corner of the TV screen. 12:30AM. Almost time to head over to the party. Usually watching ESPN puts my mind at rest, but right now I've got jittery adrenaline flowing through my veins, thinking of all those nubile young co-eds that are just waiting for me to show up. My teammates better kiss my ass for this head start I'm giving them. My phone rings on the couch seat next to me and I swipe to answer. "Hey, Dad. You're up late." "I was just looking over the stats of this junior out of UCLA. He's got a good arm, but he can't run the ball as well as you." "Thanks for letting me know," I reply. My mom and dad have been training me practically since birth to be a football star. Now that I'm in Tennessee and they're all the way in Texas, they're still searching for a way to stay involved and make sure I'm on track to get into the NFL. I'd say they want it even more than I do, but I don't know if that's possible. "How was practice today?" "Good. Coach is still up my ass about how I am in the huddle." "Don't listen to him. It's not your job to mollycoddle some wide receiver who isn't making the plays. You just hit your marks. That’s what the scouts pay attention to, not who gives the most uplifting speeches or some crap." "Preaching to the choir, Dad." "What are you doing at home, anyway? Shouldn't you be out at some party? Now's the time to sow your wild oats." My dad and mom got married kind of young, and sometimes I think he's living out his party boy fantasies through me. "Just about to leave, actually," I tell him. "Alright, talk to you soon," he says, and hangs up. I stand up and stretch, then head into my bedroom. I live in a luxurious one-bedroom apartment right across the street from campus, along with some of the other best players on the team. The block of apartments is owned by one of the university's biggest donors, and he rents them out to the football players for dirt cheap, just because he's a big fan. I don't trouble myself with the ethics of it all. I'm just happy to enjoy my California King-sized bed. In the bathroom, I rub some Old Spice under my pits and then pull on a pair of jeans and a white tshirt. I learned long ago that it doesn't really matter what I wear. I could've just rolled in a pile of shit and the jersey-chasers would still flock to me. It's a quick walk over to the football frat. I'm a member, but hell if I'm going to actually live in that

place. Mostly the rooms are occupied by sophomores and juniors, not the most talented players. Their job is mostly to sit on the place until we need it for parties, and they don't exactly keep it in the best condition. I prefer to come home to something a little more luxurious. I can hear the music from two blocks away. It's a Saturday night, so there are several parties going on on Frat Row, but ours is the biggest. Everyone wants to party with the football players. People step aside as I head down the sidewalk, and girls' heads turn after me. A few of them get up the courage to offer shy smiles, looking up through their eyelashes at me. I could probably just stop here and take one of them home, but I'd like to get a beer first. A cheer goes up from the porch as I turn up to the house. I feel the music begin to pump through my veins like a shot of drugs and I accept a beer from one of my teammates as I mount the steps. Being at a party surrounded by willing women is almost as good as being on the field. In both places, I'm the alpha. I down the beer in one massive gulp. Devon sidles up to me and hands me another red Solo cup. I nod to a couch in a dark corner where Adam is making out with some chick, his hand about halfway up her bare thigh. "Looks like Adam's found his piece for the night. What about you?" I ask, glancing around. "You can't say I didn't give you the opportunity." Out of the corners of my eye, I can already see groups of girls forming to whisper and glance in my direction. "Dude, that blonde cheerleader is cold as ice. I spent like two hours on her, and nothing." "You know what your problem is? You try too hard. I never try. You just gotta let them come to you." "Yeah, well, you got that Brad Pitt face, you lucky fuck." "What can I say? I guess I’m just blessed,” I reply with a grin. From across the room, I see the blonde cheerleader staring at me. Her friend, a girl I recognize as another cheerleader, a junior, is whispering in her ear, but she only has eyes for me. She's wearing a tiny little white dress, a cotton wisp of fabric that just barely covers her crotch and allows a line of cleavage to show at the top. I lick my lips, thinking of how it’ll feel to suck on those tits. “Devon, would you excuse me for a second?” I say, in a jokingly formal manner. “I’m telling you, those legs are staying crossed!” “We’ll see!” I reply over my shoulder. I head to a flimsy chair in the corner. It creaks as I settle into it, but holds. I casually lean back, knowing I won’t have to wait for long. And here she comes…I keep my eyes down on my drink until she’s standing right in front of me and has to clear her throat to get my attention. “Um, Hunter?” she asks, her voice high and breathy. “I just wanted to introduce myself. I’m Lydia, one of the new cheerleaders.” “Hi, Lydia,” I say. “This your first college party?” “Well, I went to one last night, but it was nothing like this,” she replies, shifting her weight from heel to heel, and nervously twisting the hand not holding her beer around a lock of her long hair.

“Want me to give you a tour?” I ask. Her lips part and her eyes light up. “I’d love that,” she murmurs, unconsciously pressing her breasts together and leaning toward me. I smirk, and stand up, finishing the rest of beer and tossing the cup on the ground. With a hand at the small of her back, I guide her toward the back hallway, pretending not to notice as her friend gives her a thumbs up. We pass by Devon and I smile as his expression changes from dumbfounded to a sort of frustrated resignation. “Hey, you had your shot,” I mutter to him. I slide my hand onto her ass as we turn into the dimly lit back hallway, and feel her press back into me. I knock at the first door. “Occupied!” a man’s voice yells back. While only a handful of the players live here, we all use the bedrooms to hook up when we’re at a party. No sense going all the way back to your own place. At the next bedroom door, I knock again, then pause to wait for a response. “All clear,” I say with a smile, and punch the code into the pad under the door handle. The door swings open, and Lydia breezes inside. Sometimes it amazes me, how quickly these girls know the score. Lydia stands obediently by the bed and waits as I close the door and walk toward her. The room is messy, but at least the comforter is pulled up and only a small bedside lamp is on. “I’m such a big fan of yours, Hunter,” she says, looking up at me with almond-shaped brown eyes. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t show up tonight.” I press up against her and slide my hands down over her ass, pulling her against my cock. She gasps as she feels its size pressing up against her waist. Cheerleaders are some of my favorite hook-ups, because they know how to stretch. “Well, I’m here now,” I murmur, bending down and covering her lips with my mouth. The faster we can get through the inane conversation and get to the fucking, the better. She gladly accepts my tongue, and I move one hand to the back of her head and hold her in place. She moans, and I move my hands to the bottom of her dress. She lifts her hands over her head, and I pull it off and toss it on the floor. She stands back to take off her bra, and then waits to let me admire her. Her tits are certainly impressive, and I can tell by the way she’s smiling that she knows it. After a moment, she reaches forward and slides her hands under my shirt and up my abs, her fingers digging into the valleys between my ab muscles. “Holy shit, your body is amazing.” I smile and pull my shirt off. “Wow,” she breathes, unabashedly allowing her eyes to travel across me. “I can’t wait to see the rest,” she says with a smile, and reaches for my belt buckle. She quickly unfastens it and pulls my jeans and boxer-briefs down with them. “I see you’re proportional,” she whispers, eyes wide as she stares at my cock. “Think you can handle it?” I ask, wrapping my hand around the shaft. “A girl can only do her best,” she whispers, and sinks to her knees. She licks her lips and then fastens them around my tip. I groan as she takes me to the back of her mouth. She can only make it about halfway down my length, but I’m used to that. I dig one hand through her hair as she goes to town on me, sucking

and licking and flicking her clever little tongue. She’s good, but I find myself zoning out as I look down at her moving up and down my cock. How many women have I seen in this position? I lost count long ago. I close my eyes and tilt my head back, remembering the look of shock on that girl’s face this morning as she walked past the locker room. She looked like she’d never seen a naked man before, not to mention one that looks like me. I wonder what it would feel like to see her in my sheets, lying on top of her and watching her face as I enter her… My eyes snap open and I frown. Who cares about some girl I saw once, when I’ve got one sucking my cock right now? “Get up,” I growl, feeling suddenly annoyed. She glances up, her eyes widening a little at my tone, and wipes her lips as she stands. I grab a condom from the drawer in the desk where they're always kept, and quickly roll it down my dick while she watches. I roughly turn her around and yank the tiny triangle of purple fabric between her legs to the ground. I kick my sneakers and jeans off, and step up behind her. I wrap one arm around her and spread one hand over one of her breasts, feeling her nipple harden against my palm. My other hand snakes down and between her legs, rubbing over her soaking wet clit and then quickly slide my finger into her opening. She cries out in pleasure as I circle my finger inside of her. “You’re pretty tight,” I grunt. “Don’t worry about me, I can take it hard,” she sighs breathlessly as I move my finger back out and flick her nub back and forth. “We’ll see about that,” I grunt, then abruptly pull my hand out and press it forward on the small of her back, bending her over the bed. I nudge her legs wider with my foot, and wrap her hair around my wrist and then grip it in my hand, pulling her head back. With my other hand, I take my cock and slide it across her slick opening. I move all the way up her butt crack, teasing her, then suddenly slide down and thrust inside her. She cries out, and I pull back and thrust inside again. “Oh, fuck, yes,” she groans, and I smile. She wasn’t lying, she does like it hard. I let myself go, driving inside and out of her, spearing her body on my cock. I look down at her back, feeling her pussy tighten around me as she nears orgasm, and again that brunette comes into my head. I’m too close to coming at this point to control myself, so I let the image of those brown curls and big blue eyes take over. I imagine how it would feel to come inside her, what she’d smell like and taste like, as I release myself inside this cheerleader with one final thrust. After a second to catch my breath, I pull out, tossing the used condom in the trash. She turns over and bites her lip as I head toward my clothes. "One more time, Hunter, please?" she asks, sliding her legs open enticingly. I smile. "I live to serve," I reply, and walk back toward her.



Chapter 5 Britt I blink at my computer screen. Shoot, I lost my train of thought again. I wanted to finish this paper for my advanced Spanish class before I went to sleep, but I’m not sure that’s going to happen. I took AP Spanish in high school so I was able to place out of the basic courses, and I’m afraid the coursework is really going to pick up soon, so I want to get a head start. I glance at the clock. 1:15. Well, no wonder I’m tired. I was up early this morning and then studying all day. I close my laptop and place it on the floor just next to my bed, then reach for my cell phone on the bedside table to make sure it’s on silent. I frown as the screen lights up with an incoming call. It’s Danielle. She’s never called me before, and we really just exchanged numbers when we moved in as a formality. I swipe it to answer, wondering if she’s just butt-dialing me. “Hello?” “Is Britt?” I can barely hear her slurred voice over the thumping music in the background. I sit up. “Yeah, it’s me. You okay?” “Drank…much…people…you come.” I only manage to make out every other word. “You need help?” “Mmph,” she grunts in the affirmative. I jump out of bed, grabbing a pair of athletic shorts from my bureau and slipping them on. Danielle and I may not be close, but I’m certainly not going to let her pass out in a ditch somewhere. “Okay, I’m on my way. Where are you?” “Football. Football…house,” she finally says, settling on the word. Oh, brother. Of course that’s where she is. “Bathroom.” “Stay there. Don’t move,” I tell her, and hang up. I pull on a bra and an old t-shirt, then slip on my sneakers and I’m out the door. At least I know where the football frat house is. It’s impossible to miss, really, since it’s the biggest residence on frat row, and there are always football players and groupies lolling about on the front porch, no matter what time of day it is. I hurry over to the main campus at a quick walk, and soon I’m dodging piles of throw up on the sidewalk and drunken girls teetering dangerously on their high heels. Ugh, what do people find appealing about this environment? I approach the football house and take a deep breath. Into the lion’s den. I’m certainly never going to tell my dad about the fact that I’m here. I’m not sure he’d even care about the extenuating circumstances. I nervously pick at the hem of my shirt as I head up the walkway. A couple of girls eye me from their

perch on the porch railing and I blush. I look really out of place. I’m dressed more like one of the boys than these girls. I refocus my gaze straight ahead and march through the open front doorway. Shit, this is an introvert’s worst nightmare. If I thought the music was loud outside, in here it’s almost deafening. And it’s so hot. And there’s so many people. And the lights are so low. I feel my body want to withdraw into itself, but I force myself to keep going. I see a guy standing by himself and approach him. “Excuse me, where’s the restroom?” I yell, so that he can hear me over the music. “Right this way,” he says, starting to turn. “No, no, thanks. You can just point me in the right direction,” I reply. I don’t want to go with him to a second location. He shrugs, and points to a doorway in the back of the big room. I nod my thanks, and scurry toward it, skirting around the writhing mass of people that are dancing to the music. When I turn into the back hallway, it’s a little quieter, though there are a few couples spread out between the closed doorways. They’re all making out, or maybe more. It’s tough to tell in the dim light. Two doorways down, there’s a closed door that actually has light peeping out from under it and spilling onto the floor. Hesitantly, I walk up to it and knock. “Danielle? You in there? It’s Britt,” I call out. I hear muffled moaning coming from the other side, and then a click as the door unlocks. I slowly open it, and then rush in as I see Danielle sinking backward onto the floor and curling up around the toilet. She looks so pale...I kneel next to her and pick up her head, placing it on my knees so it doesn’t touch this dirty tile floor. “Don’t feel good,” she murmurs. “I know,” I reply. “Everything will be alright.” Inwardly, though, I’m freaking out. She looks terrible. What am I supposed to do in this situation? What if she’s really in danger? “Can you stand up?” “Uh-uh,” she groans. “What if I get you some water?” She doesn’t reply, and her eyelids begin to flutter closed. “Wait, don’t go to sleep!” “Everything okay in here?” a deep voice asks. My head snaps up, and I freeze as I see a hulking shape in the doorway. Hunter Phillips is staring down at me.



Chapter 6 Hunter She kneels on the ground, another girl’s head in her lap. I stare at her quizzically, feeling like I almost manifested her out of my imagination. “You coming?” the cheerleader, I already forget her name, asks as she appears next to me, tugging plaintively on my t-shirt. “You go on, I’ll join you later,” I lie. The cheerleader pouts, but continues on down the hallway and back to the party. I turn back to the mystery girl and raise my eyebrows expectantly. “I, um, well, yes,” she stammers, her pale blue eyes wide. She’s a terrible liar, and she knows it. And what the fuck is she wearing? Did she just come from working out? And unlike every other person at this party, she seems to be stone cold sober. “You sure about that?” I ask, nodding to her passed out friend. Her little shoulders slump in defeat. “No. I just...I don’t know what to do. Should I take her to the hospital, do you think? I think I should, right? What if she has alcohol poisoning?” she asks, looking up at me helplessly. I step toward her as I see her lower lip start to tremble. “Mind if I give something a try?” I ask, shutting the door behind me. She looks a little alarmed, and actually flinches back, but then nods. I take a knee next to her, and take her friend’s face in my hand. “What’s her name?” I ask. “Danielle,” the girl whispers. I lean down. “Danielle!” I yell, inches from her face, and give her head a little shake. Her eyes blink open. I move my hands to under her armpits and lift her to a sitting position. She flops like a bag of flour. “Hey! Wake up!” She grunts, but her eyes open, and I can see her struggling to focus on my face. “Listen, I’m going to help you feel better, okay?” She nods. “I’m going to need you to stick your fingers down your throat.” “What?” the mystery girl asks, sounding alarmed. “Trust me,” I tell her. Danielle groans, seeming reluctant. “If you don’t stick your fingers down your throat right now, you’re going to have to go to the hospital and get your stomach pumped, and then I bet your parents will find out because you’re probably on their insurance. Do you want that to happen?” She shakes her head no. “Okay then.” I turn her around so that she’s facing the toilet, and she places one hand on the seat to steady herself. After a deep breath, she reaches one finger toward her mouth. “Oh my god,” the mystery girl murmurs, as Danielle begins to vomit into the toilet. I smile. “See? Easy.”

“I, um, thank you,” she says, not making eye contact with me. Strange. I mean, granted, there is a girl puking her guts out right next to us, but this isn’t how women usually react to me. “I’m Hunter,” I say. “I know,” she replies shortly. “So, what? You a State fan?” I ask, referencing our rivals. She snorts. “No. That would be...impossible.” I frown. What the fuck does that mean? Danielle leans back from the toilet. “Done,” she mutters. “Thank goodness,” the girl sighs. “Let’s get you back to the dorm.” She stands up, then reaches down to try to pull Danielle to her feet. I stand up, and watch her struggle for a moment. “I got it,” Danielle argues, but she’s lurching so much that she almost knocks her friend over. “Need a hand?” I ask. “No, I’ve got it from here. Thanks,” the girl says dismissively. Now that she’s not scared anymore, she’s completely closed off. “Great,” I reply, but stand there watching them. It’s quite an amusing show, actually. They’re both so little, but they’re really crashing around. “Stop,” I finally say, and step forward. I reach down and pull Danielle up, holding onto the sides of her arms to keep her standing upright. “Thank you,” the girl grumbles, wiping her forehead. There’s a curly lock of hair stuck to it, and I have a troubling urge to reach out and brush it off. “Okay, let’s go,” I say. “What are you talking about?” the girl says, a frown creasing her perfect skin. “I assume you also need me to carry her home.” “You can’t carry her all the—" she begins, but stops as I bend down and lift Danielle into my arms like a baby. "I can bench press over four hundred pounds," I say with a smile, but she just frowns back up at me. "Or would you like to carry her?" I ask. "Fine," she grumbles, like she's doing me a favor. "But I live on freshman campus. All the way in Calhoun," she tells me warningly. I shrug, Danielle bouncing slightly in my arms. "I know you?" she asks, peering up at me. I wince at the smell of her vomit and alcohol scented breath. "Almost definitely," I reply. "After you," I say to the girl, nodding toward the door. She hesitates, but then walks forward and opens up the bathroom door. I follow her back out through the party. Most people are too wasted to pay attention to anything other than the person they're currently grinding up against, but a couple of my teammates give me surprised looks. I ignore them. On the street, the girl and I walk next to each other in silence, and I start to question what the hell I'm doing. I glance sidelong at her, but she's staring straight ahead. This kind of charitable bullshit isn't like me at all. I could've just called her a fucking cab. Not that Danielle would've been able to make it up the steps to her room, but still. And this fucking girl doesn't even seem thankful. She seems...pissed.

"She your roommate?" I finally ask. "Yeah," the girl replies. Danielle looks up at me hazily. I doubt she'll remember this in the morning. "What's your name?" There's a long silence. "Britt," she finally replies. "Britt. You don't look like you were intending to come out tonight," I observe. "I wasn't. I was studying, and then I was just about to go to sleep." "It's a Saturday night. Your first Saturday night at college," I point out. "Shoot, looks like I missed out on all the fun," she says, nodding pointedly at her roommate. I have to smile. "True. But you don't have to get wasted." "I know," she replies with a shrug. "It's just not my thing, I guess." "What is your thing?" "Um, I like reading. I'm reading House of the Spirits in the original Spanish for the first time," she offers, sounding cheerful and open for the first time. Then she glances at me. "That's a book by—" "Isabel Allende, right? I read it for a class sophomore year, I think." She looks mildly impressed. "Thought football players couldn't read, huh?" "Sure, you read the blitz," she replies jokingly. "So you are a football fan...from something you said earlier I—" "No. No, I'm not." "Okay, weirdo," I say. "I'm not a weirdo!" she gasps indignantly stopping in her tracks. She squints up at my face. "Oh, you're trying to tease me," she says, and keeps walking. "I wouldn't say I'm a fan, I just pick things up here and there," she states. "Uh-huh," I reply, as thought that clarifies anything. I see Calhoun dormitory rising up in front of us, and find myself trying to walk slower. "So what's your major then?" she asks. Is she trying to change the subject? "English Lit," I reply. "Really?" she asks, sounding shocked. "Yeah. I mean, I figured it didn't really matter what I chose, since I wouldn't be making a career out of it anyway. And I like books, they take my mind off things." "And you have time? With practices and everything?" "Not really, but I do what I can. I never ace my courses or anything, not that the school cares as long as I stay eligible." I'm surprised to hear a hint of bitterness creep into my voice. "That's a shame," she says, shaking her head as we make our way through the front door of the dorm and into the elevator. "I mean, it sounds like if you had more time, you'd be able to—forget it," she says, suddenly pressing her lips together. The elevator doors open, and I follow her down her hallway in silence, and wait as she unlocks her door. "Can you put her on her bed?" she asks, nodding to the one

beneath all the Vanover paraphernalia. I smile as I recognize a photo of myself on a calendar. I walk over and gently lay Danielle on top of her covers. Britt walks to the foot of the bed, and gently removes her heels. "You think she'll be okay?" she asks quietly. "She'll be fine," I assure her. "Well, thanks then," she says formally, and stands there looking at me.



Chapter 7 Britt Why isn't he leaving? He should leave now. Not that anything about tonight has gone as I expected it to. He certainly hasn't turned out the way I expected him to. He turns and wanders over to my side of the room. "So what's your major?" he asks quietly, sitting on the edge of my desk. I feel a nervous fluttering in my stomach. Why does he even care? My goodness, he is handsome up close. No, no. I can't be having those kinds of thoughts. I've already been way too friendly, far nicer than I intended to be. Time to shut it down. "It's getting late," I say. "I'll say," he agrees with a smile. "You know what I meant," I retort pointedly. "I did," he agrees, standing up. He towers over me, a solid brick of muscle. "You know, I think this might be the longest conversation I've had with a woman in years." I blanch. "That's...horrible." To my surprise, he laughs. "You're right, it is," he acknowledges, shaking his head at himself. "You're a very intriguing woman," he says, walking up to me. I have to tilt my head way back to look up at him, he's so tall. I swallow at the hungry look in his eyes, and feel my skin start to ripple with heat. "I'm sure there are lots of intriguing girls back at the party," I whisper. "None like you," he murmurs. I feel his arms gently wrap around my waist. I begin to tremble...from fear, pleasure, I don't know. My emotions are running so high that I can't tell. "Hunter, I—" But his head is bending down toward me, his dark, unreadable eyes holding me in place until his lips softly touch mine. I feel a surge of heat rush from the bottom of my feet to my mouth. It's such a strong sensation that it almost carries me off my feet, but here is Hunter Phillips, standing in front of me and holding me up. He caresses my lips open with his, and I feel his tongue slide gently against mine. I raise my hands and let them rest against his chest. His skin feels hot against my palms, and I can feel his heart beating. His hand slides from my waist and down my ass, and he presses his crotch into me. Something hard is pushing into my waist... my brain goes fuzzy for a minute as I try to process what it could be. I step back with a gasp. "You have to leave." He frowns. "What? Seriously?" "Yes. That was a very bad idea. Very bad."

"Felt pretty good to me. And I think it did to you, too," he says, a little smirk reaching his lips. I shake my head, even though I couldn't agree with him more. "No. Sorry." "Liar. When can I see you again, then?" "You're not listening. This, we, or whatever, it's a non-starter," I stride decisively toward my door and open it. "Thank you for helping me with my roommate." He stares at me, opens his mouth as though he's about to argue with me, then shuts it again. With a frown, he stalks toward the door, then disappears as he turns down the hallway. I quickly shut the door, and lock it. In a daze, I walk toward my bed, kicking off my sneakers as I go. I hear Danielle snoring softly a few feet away as I slide under my sheets and pull them up to my neck. Hunter Phillips just kissed me. Holy crap. The guy that my father most specifically warned me against. Well, it doesn't matter now, anyway. I kicked him out of my room, and we won't see each other again. Whatever craziness happened tonight, whatever strange impulse inspired him to kiss me...it's over. In the past. I shut my eyes, but his face is burned on the inside of my eyelids. Not just his face, that body, too. I mean, I've seen plenty of pictures, and I watch my dad's games to support him, but Hunter Phillips is something else in person. It's not just how handsome he is, and how massive and sculpted his body is. There's something else… He's magnetic. I can't help it. My hand drifts southward, under my shorts and panties. I'm so turned on, my underwear is practically soaking. I begin to touch myself, imagining what might have happened had Hunter Phillips stayed in my room. His shirt coming off, being able to feel my skin naked against his, and that bulge that I felt on my stomach sliding down and then thrusting inside me over and over again…



Chapter 8 Hunter My hands clench and unclench in the locker room. We're at the stadium for our home game opener, and it's against our rivals in the SEC, the University of Tennessee. I can hear the crowd from here, cheering for their Tigers to take the field. I'm always pumped up before a game, but right now I feel like a fucking rocket that's being held at the launch pad. I fucked four other girls this week, just trying to forget about Britt, but it didn't help. Everyone involved got off, but here I am, still thinking about her. Those breasts, that tiny waist that shook when I put my hands on her, the taste of peppermint in her mouth… Fuck! I'm about to go on the field in front of thousands of screaming fans and face off against a bunch of monsters who want nothing more than to grind me into the dirt, and I'm thinking about some girl. I am Hunter fucking Phillips. I'm probably just thinking about her because she turned me down, and I can't remember the last time that happened. All I need to do to get her out of my head is sleep with a few more groupies. Oh, and first I have to win this game. We line up in the tunnel. Adam and I square off, pounding our fists on each other's shoulder pads. Fireworks blast off at the tunnel entrance, and we get the signal to go. I lead the charge, running out as the smoke clears between two rows of cheerleaders. Eighty thousand people leap to their feet. The sound reverberates in the bowl-shaped arena, but I'm used to it, and my ears quickly adjust to the volume. We win the coin toss, the kickoff returner gets the ball to Tennessee's thirty-five-yard line, and I set up behind the safety. I feel a moment of nerves and take a deep breath. This is my final season of college football, and I know the pro scouts are in the stands or watching on ESPN. I eye the defense and call out an audible. My nerves are gone. I'm exactly where I'm meant to be. I get us to our own twenty-yard line, but a sophomore tight end fumbles and Tennessee almost recovers. I want to go for the touchdown, but Coach McKay calls for the field goal. Swearing under my breath, I leave the field. There's only so much I can do if my receivers can't even hold onto the fucking ball. Tennessee answers with a touchdown, and we take the field again. My guys seem to have shaken off the cobwebs, and I throw a perfect spiral forty yards down the field. Adam beats the coverage, and easily catches the rock for a touchdown. Tennessee seems to lose its momentum after that, and we end the half up sixteen to seven.

There's a lot of celebrating in the locker room, until Coach McKay storms in and practically castrates us for enjoying ourselves. "Game isn't won yet, gentleman!" he yells, then takes out a marker and begins furiously marking up the white board to show the defense all their mistakes. "What's up with you?" Adam asks as we line back up in the tunnel for the second half. "You don't seem as pumped as usual. We're killing them." "Don't worry about it. Just catch the fucking ball," I growl back. "Fuck, what crawled up your ass?" he mutters, and stuffs his helmet back on his head. Despite Coach McKay's concern, our punt returner runs in a poorly kicked ball for a touchdown, and I can practically see Tennessee's energy sag from across the field. Another drive, and another touchdown. As I head back to the sidelines and pull off my helmet, I hear the crowd roar, and turn to see that the Jumbotron is showing a close-up of me. I smirk, and turn to the bleachers behind me, pumping my arms up in the air until the crowd is whipped into a frenzy. I grab a Gatorade and take a seat on the sidelines. There's only a few minutes left on the clock, and a win is all but secured. I crumple the empty paper cup in my fist and turn to toss it into the garbage can. Tennessee's offense takes a time out, and I watch as Coach McKay takes a second to jog over to the stands. I squint as a young woman bends over the barrier to exchange a few words with him. Wait...is that? It can't be. What in the ever-loving fuck is Coach McKay doing talking to Britt? I turn back to the field, my brain trying to make sense of what I'm seeing. And I'm not the only one who's spotted them. I watch Adam nudge Devon and point to the stands. A few of our other teammates turn to look too, and soon there's a dozen of them looking back and ogling Britt. They whip back around as Coach McKay comes back to the sidelines, but I see them laughing together. I frown, feeling my skin prickling with some unknown feeling. I glance back toward the stands, but I only see Britt's back retreating up the steps. "Phillips! Wake up!" My head snaps back to see our offensive coordinator yelling at me to take the field. Tennessee failed to convert on fourth down and I didn't even notice. I pick up my helmet and put it on as I sprint out. Why was Britt at a game? And how'd she score that front row seat? My linemen form a solid wall in front of me. She didn't even seem to like football. Did she come to see me? The center hikes the ball, and I drop back into the pocket, but I'm getting charged by two huge Tennessee defensive tackles. I failed to read the blitz. I hit the ground, and feel the air crushed out of me by the six hundred pounds of meat pressing me into the dirt. I groan and hear the whistle, but the fuckers take their sweet time getting off me. I lay on the ground for a second, and then stiffly get to my feet. Fuck. I just let some two-bit rushers get the jump on me, and all because I was distracted by some fucking girl. I shake my head to clear it. Nothing like getting sacked on national television to get me

refocused. Despite my fuck-up, the game ends in a blowout for us. I'm swarmed by the press, and I give my best aw shucks smile and bland answers to the reporters' questions. I'm already playing the long game, thinking about my endorsement deals when I turn pro. Companies want someone who can be the face of the brand and prove that they won't make some major off-field screw up that will tarnish their product. When I can finally head back to the locker room, I glance at Coach McKay, who's still giving interviews. That asshole never says anything positive about me to reporters. I'm his star QB, but it's like he wants me to fail. Whatever. I stop just outside the tunnel and sign a bunch of autographs for little kids and some groupies that also thrust their numbers toward me. Back in the locker room, a celebration is already going on, and Adam points at me as I enter, then runs at me. I leap up and we bump chests, our pads crunching together in the air. "Fuck yes!" he yells. "That's how you start a season!" We head toward the lockers and everyone starts stripping off their gear. "Hey, how'd that dirt taste?" Devon calls from across the room, ribbing me about my sack. "You looked a little distracted there," Adam chimes in. "And I bet I know why...you were thinking about all that pussy you're gonna get tonight!" "Fuck yeah," I agree. I'm not about to get into the real reason. "Phillips, you can have that blonde cheerleader, by the way," Devon says. "Oh, can I?" I ask sarcastically. "I think I already did. Twice," I point out, whipping off my jersey. "Naw, man. I'm saying I got my eyes on someone new. You see that girl that Coach was talking to in the stands?" he asks, and a rumble goes up from the players around us. He wasn't the only one checking Britt out. "Who was she?" Adam asks. "She must be a frosh, 'cause I'd remember a body like that." "I bet she's a reporter for the school paper," Devon offers. "That's how come she got those seats, and she was asking him for a quote." I frown. I guess that he could be right, but currently all I care about is that everyone stop talking about her. "Let's call the paper, invite her to the party tonight," Adam suggests. "We'll tell her we'll give her an interview." "Dude, when she bent over the barrier like that," Devon imitates her, ass sticking up in the air. The guys around him laugh. "I just wanted to get up right behind her…" He mimes thrusting into her. I feel my jaw clench. "Don't talk about her like that." I grunt, then back off slightly as I see the guys around me staring. They're not used to hearing me stick up for anyone, much less a woman. "I'm just saying, she doesn't seem like some groupie." "Oh, you got a problem with how I'm talking?" Devon asks. "Well, how about if I tell you that she's got

those kind of lips that I can just picture wrapping around my big ass cock and—" I start toward him, but I'm too late. A blur moves past me, coming from the direction of the tunnel. Devon slams back against the lockers, Coach McKay's hand around his throat. Devon has six inches on him, but Coach looks like he's about to fucking explode. "What did you just say about my daughter?" he grunts. The locker room goes completely silent. Daughter? Britt is Coach McKay's daughter? "Shit, Coach, I didn't know, I swear," Devon gasps. Coach stares at him, his hand tightening, and then releases him. He turns around and slowly locks eyes with each and every one of us. "If I ever catch any one of you so much as looking at my daughter, you will never take the field again. You'll be warming the bench for the rest of the season. I don't care who you are, how many points we'd lose, or how it screws up your chances to get drafted. Stay away from her, you hear me?" A chorus of "yes, sirs" greet his pronouncement. He lets it hang in the air for a second, and then storms out. "Fuck," Devon murmurs, rubbing his throat. "I don't care how hot his daughter is," Adam murmurs to me, shaking his head, "no pussy is worth riding the bench."



Chapter 9 Britt "You going out again?" I ask Danielle nervously as I watch her line her eyes in thick black liner. She blacked out almost all of last Saturday night, and I haven't told her the details, figuring I'd spare her some embarrassment. Specifically, I left Hunter out of the story, and just let her assume I escorted her back to our room myself somehow. I thought that she might curb her partying, but it seems like I was wrong. "Heck, yeah!" she exclaims. "I'm so pumped from the game today. And I heard that when we win, the parties are even crazier, so I'm sure tonight is going to be epic." "Wait, you're going back to the football frat?" "Sure. I mean, I know I overdid it last weekend, but now I know more about my limits." "Right," I say, turning back to the notebook on my desk. What if she runs into Hunter, and he mentions something? I have to clue her in. "Danielle, there's something I didn't tell you about last weekend," I say, turning my chair around to face her. "Uh oh, I don't like the sound of that," she replies, turning in her chair to face me, too. "It's nothing too bad," I assure her. "I just didn't want you to feel weird about it." "Okay…" "The thing is, when I went to get you, you were passed out in the bathroom, right?" "Yeah, I sort of remember that," she nods along. "And I was really freaking out, because, you know, I don't really drink and I've never seen someone so drunk before. And I didn't know what to do, but then...Hunter Phillips came along." Her eyes widen. "And?" she asks breathlessly. "Here's the part you're not going to like. He, um, helped you stick your finger down your throat to make you throw up, and then carried you back here," I blurt out quickly, like I'm ripping off a Band-Aid. "Shut. Up. Are you freaking kidding me?" she exclaims, her eyes practically bugging out of her head. She gets up and pitches herself forward onto her bed with a moan. "I wouldn't have told you, but if you're going back there tonight, you might see him and—" "Oh my god, did he see that?" she asks, pointing to the photo of him above her bed. "Um, maybe," I reply. "I'm honestly not sure." "This is the most mortifying thing that's ever happened to me," she groans. "I'm sorry. I tried to handle it myself, but he insisted." "Well, I'm never going back to the football frat, that's for sure," she sighs. "You were right to tell me." "Okay, good."

"So, he insisted on helping you? That was nice, I guess. He must have felt like it was his duty to help his coach's daughter," she reasons. "No, that wasn't it," I tell her, coming to sit on my bed across from her. "I never told him who my father is." "Interesting…" she muses. "So he sees a beautiful damsel in distress, and steps in. You being the beautiful damsel, obviously." I laugh. "That's silly. I'm not, I mean…" I think about how the night ended, and frown. Could he think I'm beautiful? Am I beautiful? "What?" Danielle asks, coming to sit next to me on my bed. "There's something you're not telling me, isn't there? Oh god, did I do something even more embarrassing?" I knit my fingers together nervously. I've been dying to tell someone about what happened, but I don't really have anyone to talk to. "It's okay if you don't want to tell me," Danielle says. "But, well, I would like it if we could become friends. I know I can come off as just some flaky party girl, and probably last Saturday didn't help that impression, but I party just to let off steam. My major is pretty heavy," she explains. "I'm studying to be a teacher specializing in special education, and sometimes it's overwhelming. But I'm a really good listener, I promise. And I'm good at keeping secrets." I smile at her. Maybe I have misjudged her. I had no idea what her major was, and just wrote her off as some party girl. "I'd like to be friends, too," I tell her. "And I have been dying to talk to someone about what happened. But you can't tell anyone. I mean, my father would absolutely die." "Cross my heart," she says, motioning across her chest. I quickly fill her in on when I peeped on Hunter in the locker room, and watch her practically drool. "I'm not sure if he remembered me from that or not. But then when he was carrying you back here, he was actually really nice to talk to. Not at all like how my father described him. And then, after you went to sleep in your bed, well, he kissed me." Danielle squeals and claps her hands together. "You're not, um, jealous or anything? I mean, you have his picture…" I point to the calendar above her bed. "No, girl. That's like how Channing Tatum is my screensaver. It's just a fantasy. Hunter Phillips is totally out of my league." "And mine! I couldn't believe it when he kissed me! And then he asked to see me again." Danielle laughs. "Do you not see yourself when you look in the mirror, Britt? You're fucking gorgeous! The day we moved in, I honestly assumed you would be a bitch, just because I've never met someone that looks like you that was actually nice." "Um, thank you?" "I just mean, you're even prettier than the popular girls at my high school, but you're not mean like them," she clarifies. "So it doesn't surprise me at all that Hunter Phillips would be interested in you."

"Thank you," I reply quietly, trying to absorb this information about my looks. It's a bit disconcerting that the image I've been putting out to the world is so different than the one I thought. "So how was the kiss?" she asks, leaning in. I blush. "It was…There are no words, really." "And then what happened?" "I kicked him out." "What! Why?" "My father specifically warned me away from Hunter! He told me that he's 'rotten to the core'. And just because Hunter was nice to me for a little doesn't mean that's really what he's like. My father knows him a lot better than I do." "Hm, maybe. I have heard he's a major player. But he did really help you, and me, out. Plus, he asked you on a date. Maybe he actually likes you." "God, I must have come off as so rude," I realize. "He rescues my roommate, and I abruptly kick him out with no explanation." "You could always apologize," Danielle suggests. I consider for a moment. "No, I think that I shouldn't engage him anymore. Nothing good can come from it. If my dad even knew that I'd spoken to him, he'd hit the roof." "Alright," Danielle says with a shrug. "Well, I'm going out with some girls from my program tonight. I'll convince them to go somewhere besides the football frat. You want to join us?" she asks hopefully. I smile. "Thanks, but I'm just going to head over to the library. I found a nook on the fourth floor that I really like to study in." "You work too hard, you know that?" Danielle says, shaking her head as she goes back to her desk chair to finish her makeup. "I know, but if I'm going to make Phi Beta Kappa by my junior year, I have to," I reply, shouldering my backpack. "Okay, but just be careful you don't burn out!" Danielle calls after me as I shut the door.



Chapter 10 Hunter I'm swarmed by people the second I step foot on Frat Row. They follow me all the way to the house, and then gather on the front lawn as I go inside. Usually I love the attention, but when my body's aching as much as it is right now, I find it exhausting. A groupie hands me a beer, and I down it as she watches. "Got another one?" I ask, and she quickly waves a friend over, who hands me one. I down that one, too. "The best non-prescription painkiller out there," I explain. "You played so amazing today," the taller one purrs. "We're really big fans of yours," the other one agrees, placing her hand on my bicep and allowing her fingertips to slide under the end of my t-shirt sleeve. "Both of us are." I know I'm one sentence away from locking down a threesome, but for the first time in my life, I'm just not interested. "Maybe later," I tell them. "Thanks for the beers." I wander over to a couch and sink down into it. I disappear for a second in the low light, and I can see everyone for a while without them seeing me. That's the strange thing about being a celebrity on this campus, I'm always being watched. For a few minutes, I watch everyone on the dance floor, and the jockeying for position in line for the kegs. I feel strangely unattached and empty. "The fuck's the matter with you?" Adam asks, sinking down next to me. He grabs a girl passing by and pulls her down onto his lap as she giggles. "You forget that we won today?" I look over at the girl as she smiles at me. Have we slept together? I can't even fucking remember. "Yeah, I know. I think I just need to clear my head," I say, standing up. Suddenly, staying here seems like an impossibility. "Alright," Adam replies, frowning. "You coming back later?" "Sure," I call back over my shoulder as I walk away. I glance out the window at the front yard. It's absolutely mobbed, the party spilling out into the street. I hug the wall and make my way around the living room and into the kitchen, then slip out the back door. There are some people out in the alley, but I fix a frown on my face. That’s the thing about being six foot five and weighing 240. Sometimes I look like one scary fuck, and no one's inclined to bother me. Away from Frat Row, I feel myself relax a little. It's a beautiful night, and Nashville isn't such a big city that its lights obscure the stars. Still, it was a big change from the small football town in Texas where I grew up. I walk aimlessly around campus for about twenty minutes, or so I think. When I finally look up to see

where I am, Calhoun dorm is right in front of me. I run my hands through my short hair. What am I doing here? I don't even have her number, and I don't have access to her dorm. And that's not even taking into account that she's Coach McKay's daughter. Now that I think about it, they both have blue eyes, though Coach's are much darker, and they both have this way of looking at me like they know everything about me. In Britt's case, though, I actually find it kind of comforting, like it gives me the sense that we've known each other much longer than we actually have. I sit down on the top step by the dorm's front door, next to a tall white column that supports the portico. If I'm interested in a relationship, there have to be other girls that I could go after. Problem is, I'm familiar with a vast majority of the girls on this campus, and I haven't been interested in dating a single one of them. In fact, I haven't even gone on a date since I was fourteen. That was before I became the star of my high school football team, when I actually had to work for girls to sleep with me. But Britt is Coach's daughter. And that prick already hates me. He'd probably bench me for even being here, and then I'd have no chance at being drafted in the pros. He'd have to make up some story about why I'm not playing anymore – I don't think my pursuing his daughter would cut it – but I wouldn't put it past him. I'm jeopardizing my entire future by just sitting here, so why aren't I leaving?



Chapter 11 Britt Freshman campus is eerily quiet as I head back from the library. I hear the echoes of some partygoer's laughter against the buildings, but mostly people are already out at parties for the night. I feel a slight pang of loneliness and frown down at the paved walkway in front of me. I'm lost in thought, and head up the first step of my dorm before I see him. Hunter Phillips, sitting just next to the door. He stares back at me as I gape at him. "Hi," I finally squeak out. "Hi," he says. My heart races as he stands and I feel myself flush. I've never felt so out of control of my body. "Look, I was rude the other night," I start, "and I owe you an explanation." "No, I understand now. I know you're Coach's daughter." "Oh. Well…" I drift off. "How?" It's dark, but I think I see a rueful smile cross his face. "You were...noticed at the game today, and Coach made it clear we're all meant to stay far away from you." "I can't believe he did that," I grimace, but then look up at him. "So he warned you away, but here you are." "Here I am," he echoes, his deep voice seeming to rumble around in his chest. We both glance toward the quad as a large group of wasted co-eds spills onto campus. There must be thirty or so of them, and they're all in black and gold Vanover football jerseys and headed right for us. "Shit," Hunter sighs. "I'm really not in the mood." "I thought you liked the attention," I say, turning to face him. "Usually," he says with a shrug. "I just—" He breaks off as one of the women in the group shrieks. She's spotted Hunter, and is leading her friends toward us at a sprint. "Come on," I say, hurrying around him and swiping my card to let us into the dorm. "We better take the stairs," I tell him and he follows me into the stairwell. I run up the stairs, while his long legs allow him to take them two at a time without seeming to be in a rush at all. Laughing, we burst into my room, and I lock the door behind us. As I catch my breath, I begin to become more aware of the situation we're in, alone together in my dorm room. I'm surprised to see that Hunter seems to feel a little of the awkwardness, too. "So, how's your roommate?" he asks, nodding toward her empty bed and stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Recovered, thanks to you," I tell him. "Though very embarrassed. You played well today, by the way." "Thanks. I'm hurting a little now, though," he replies, sitting on my bed. "Yeah, I saw that sack right before I left." "I got distracted." "By what?" "You." "Hunter, we can't—" I begin, but his huge hands wrap around my stomach and he pulls me to him, opening his knees so that I'm pressing against his tree trunk of a torso. With him sitting on my bed and me standing, I can actually look into his dark brown eyes and see the tiny specks of gold in his irises. All of a sudden, I'm having trouble breathing. "Have you been thinking about me?" he asks. Even if he weren't holding me, his gaze would pin me to this spot. "Yes," I admit, my head spinning. With a growl, like I've unleashed an animal, he pulls me tightly against him and covers my lips with his. Unlike our gentle first kiss, this time I feel like he's devouring me. And I love it. Our tongues clash against each other's and his hands slide over my ass. This time I don't pull away. I wrap my arms around his thick neck and dig my fingers into his hair. His hands slide down my thighs and he pulls me up and onto his crotch with my knees resting on either side of him on my bed. I instinctively raise myself up and lower myself down again and feel his cock slide against my jeans. God, I want to feel him everywhere. I'm filled with an almost uncontrollable urge to rip off my clothes, but something holds me back. I'm still a virgin, and I know that I'm not ready yet. Well, my body might be, but my heart and mind aren't. "Hunter," I gasp, pulling back and dismounting. "I'm sorry, this is just going too fast for me." I wonder if he's going to argue with me, or try to pressure me, but instead he takes my hand. "Don't apologize. It's me. I get around you and...do you want me to…?" he nods to the door. "You don't have to. I mean, you could stay, if you want," I offer shyly. "Really? Don't worry, I won't try anything," he assures me. He glances around the room. "Wow, I haven't done this in a really long time," he says with a somewhat bashful smile. "What?" "Just, um, hung out." "So mostly you just sleep with girls?" I ask, sitting next to him on the bed. "You really want to know this stuff?" he asks, eyeing me. I shrug. "Well, if it's the truth, then yeah." "Okay, yeah. I have sex with women, and I don't get to know them, and they don't get to know me." "And then you talk about them in the locker room?" I venture.

His head snaps to me. "Why do you say that?" "Well, it's true, isn't it?" "Yes," he replies slowly. "But I want you to know that you...I would never talk about you like that." "You know my dad hears that stuff right? He warned me away from you guys, too." He turns toward me intently. "So is that why he hates me so much? The locker room talk? Because all the guys do that, but he seems to have it out for me specifically." "Um…" I hesitate. "Sorry, I'm not trying to get you to break a confidence." "No, that's okay. I'm just, I'm trying to string together what he's told me about you over the years," I reply with a smile. "I think...I think he expects more from you than from the rest of his players, that's all." "But why? That's not fair," Hunter says, frustration building on his face. "When you first started, I remember him saying that he was impressed by your talent, but he was more excited by the fact that you were smart, that you actually had leadership potential. And then, well, you sort of…" "Disappointed the fuck out of him?" he asks bitterly. "My dad always told me not to worry about that stuff, that pro scouts aren't witnessing me giving pep talks, so what's the point? It's just a waste of energy." "Huh," I reply, trying to be diplomatic. "I don't want to get in the middle here, but it sounds like one of those ways you're more, and one of those ways you're less. I mean, the QB is the team's leader. I think you'd be surprised how the players would follow you if you showed them how. If you could truly inspire them." "Inspire them?" he asks, flopping backward onto my bed. "I'm not sure I'm up to that." "Of course you are," I tell him. "You've just never tried it before." I move to lie down next to him, and he turns on his side to face me so that I can actually fit. When he lies on his back, his shoulders reach almost all the way across my little twin-sized mattress. "You say you're not a football fan, but it sounds like you've picked up a lot," he observes with a smile, and I feel my body warm at the sight of his lips curving. "Well, it's just me and my dad, so sometimes he uses me as a sounding board." "Got any other tips for me?" "Seriously? Because your footwork—" He laughs. "No, no, forget it! I've already got enough coaches telling me what to do. Tell me...tell me about your classes," he finally says, and wraps an arm around me, pulling me in so that my head rests in the crook of his neck. "Okay, well, you know Fozzie Bear from the Muppets? That's who my Pysch 101 teacher reminds me of," I say, and feel him bury his head in my hair with a grin.



Chapter 12 Hunter I wake up, and feel an unfamiliar weight on my arm. I'm about to shake it off, when I look down and realize that it's Britt's head, using me as a pillow. An unfamiliar feeling of contentment spreads through me. I'm so used to a feeling of restlessness...it drives me forward, making me want to be better than everyone around me, but it also makes it nearly impossible to stop and enjoy the moment. But right now, I feel like I could stay in this narrow twin bed forever. Well, maybe not forever. I do really need to piss. I look down at Britt. She's half on top of me, since it's the only way we can fit on this tiny mattress. I gently slide my hand under her head, intending to scoop her up. Her eyes flutter open, her long eyelashes batting against her brow bone. "Hi," she whispers, blushing as though she feels shy. "Hi," I murmur back, and the shy feeling hits me, too. The door bursts open and we both start. "Hi," her roommate says, standing frozen in the doorway, her eyes wide. "I'll just—" she begins to turn around and leave. "No, it's your room," I say, and Britt sits up to allow me to get out of bed. I'm still in my clothes; we both fell asleep talking with them on. Danielle slowly closes the door. "Hey, um, Britt filled me in on last weekend, and I just wanted to say thanks," she says. "Don't worry about it," I tell her. "But if you could maybe not tell anyone that—" "I'm sworn to secrecy," Danielle assures me with a smile. "Well, I better get going then," I say, turning back to Britt. She looks gorgeous, even first thing in the morning. Her lips are the colors of raspberries, and she self-consciously tucks her unruly brown curls behind her ears. "I need to see you again," I murmur into her ear. I watch a smile spread across her face, and she crawls to the foot of her bed and reaches for a pencil and piece of paper on her desk. She writes out her number, and then hands it to me. I stuff it into my pocket, kiss her softly on the lips, and nod to Danielle, who looks positively delighted by what she's witnessing. As I head out of the dorm, I check the time on my phone. Good thing Danielle woke us up, actually, because I need to be at practice. It's not a full practice since we had a game last night, but Coach McKay wants the first team to meet with our offensive coordinator to go over some missteps. Not that any of them were on me. Some of these younger players just don't spend enough time with the playbook and end up fucking up.

During the meeting, I listen with half an ear as I turn my phone over and over in my pocket. I want to ask Britt on a proper date, but I haven't had to do that for years. I guess I should call, rather than text. Fuck, I know this is a bad idea. I mean, she's Coach's daughter, and I could tell by the look in his eyes when he held Devon up against those lockers that he wasn't fooling around. But there's something about Britt...she's like a drug to me. The fact that I'm going to see her again feels inevitable. I want to roll my eyes as I catch Rob, the sophomore tight end who fumbled in the game, frowning over the playbook, but then I catch myself. I wonder what Britt would think of me, dismissing this kid so quickly. She's a better person than me, that's obvious. So how can I make myself worthy of her? The meeting wraps up, and Rob looks like he's about to get a migraine as he rubs his temples and stares at the patterns that our offensive coordinator has been trying to drill into our heads. My body feels stiff and bruised. There's nothing I'd like more right now than to head back to my apartment and sink into a nice hot bath. "Come on," I say to Rob, cuffing him on the shoulder. "What? Why?" he asks, looking alarmed. "You're clearly not learning anything by sitting here, so let's go," I reply brusquely, and he frowns. Shit, I sound like I'm insulting him. I sigh. "I'm going to help you," I clarify. "Oh, shit, really?" he asks, quickly getting to his feet. I lead him down the hallway and out toward the practice field. "This playbook is so overwhelming, man." "Maybe you're just not a visual learner," I tell him. "Some people have to learn by doing." I grab a rack of practice balls and pull it onto the field behind me, rolling my shoulder around to get it loose. Rob gets into the three-point position, and for the next hour, I drill him over and over in our most commonly used plays. My throwing arm is begging me for a break, but by the end, Rob looks way better than I've ever seen him. I turn back toward the building for a second, and see a face watching us from the offices. It's Coach McKay, and he's staring right at me. I look away, feeling unsettled. He couldn't have found out about me and Britt, right?



Chapter 13 Britt "Wow, Rob's playing well tonight," I comment to Danielle from our front row seats. Vanover is playing Colorado in a home night game, and we're up ten to seven near the end of the second half. "Which one is that again?" she murmurs, peering out onto the field. "The tight end who ran the slant." She looks at me blankly. "Number twenty-three," I clarify, pointing him out. "You really know your stuff," she says, looking impressed. "It's hard not to pick up on it," I tell her. "And intellectually, it can be fascinating." "Plus Hunter looks so hot in those tight pants," Danielle replies. "That, too," I agree, collapsing into giggles. The team had an away game last week, so it's been two whole weeks since Hunter and I have actually been able to see each other, though we've talked on the phone and texted. I can't wait for the game to be over, because even though I like watching Hunter play, we're going out on our first date tonight. I asked if he wanted to wait until tomorrow so he could rest, but he insisted on tonight. "So where's he taking you?" she asks. "He wouldn't say. He only promised that we wouldn't be recognized," I tell her. The game ends with another win for Vanover, extending our undefeated season. My father and Hunter are both quickly swarmed by reporters. His performance is attracting more and more heat from NFL teams, and everyone wants an interview with the star. Danielle and I stand, getting ready to head out. I try to make eye contact with Hunter, but I can't even see him now. "Britt." My head snaps down and I see my father standing on the field just below us, his headset around his neck. "Great game, Dad," I tell him. "This is my roommate Danielle." She reaches down to shake his hand. "Nice to meet you, sir." "You too," my dad says, serious as ever. "Are you headed back to the dorm now?" he asks us both. "I might head out to a party for a little," Danielle replies, and I can hear a hint of nervousness in her voice. Even though my dad has no power over her, he still manages to intimidate. "Hm," he grunts disapprovingly, and turns to me expectantly. "Yep, just heading back to our dorm," I reply, trying to seem normal. I'm not used to lying to him. "Good. Talk to you later, then," he says, and heads off to the locker room. "Jeez, he's even scarier in person, huh?" Danielle says, taking a deep breath.

"Yeah. I think he likes you, though," I offer. "Really?" "I know it's hard to tell," I commiserate, and we head up the steps and out of the stadium. "I feel so guilty about lying to him. It's always just been the two of us, and we've always been really open with each other." "Well, as long as you stay safe, that's all he wants, you know? Maybe the details aren't so important," she reasons. I nod, hoping she's right. It takes forever for us to get out of the stadium. The mood of the surrounding fans is jubilant, but I'm distracted by looking at my phone. Finally, I get a text from Hunter. It's an address, and Danielle catches me frowning at it. "What's wrong?" "I think he just wants me to meet him at his apartment," I tell her. She pulls me over to a quieter spot on the sidewalk, letting the hordes of people pass by us. "What if...what if he's just trying to sleep with me?" I whisper, giving voice to my deepest fear. "Look, if you get there, and you feel like that's the case, then you leave," she reasons. "That's what you think I should do?" "I can't tell you what to do," Danielle says, putting her hand on my shoulder. "What does it feel like to you? Do you think he just wants sex?" "It's just, it's hard to believe sometimes that he actually likes me. He could have any girl on campus," I tell her, and am shocked to feel a tear slip down my cheek. I hurriedly wipe it away, aware that we're still surrounded by people, even though it's dark. "Yeah, but I'm not surprised that he wants you. You're beautiful, smart, kind...you know a ton about football." I smile. "Thanks." "So? What do you think?" I take a deep breath and close my eyes for a second, trying to sense what I want. "I'm going."



Chapter 14 Hunter I hurriedly pull off my jersey, tossing it into the laundry bin, then sit on the bench to unlace my cleats. "Fuck, man! That was amazing!" Rob exclaims, coming up and pounding my shoulder. "You did great, brother," I tell him. "Naw, man. It was all you," he says. He looks pumped as hell, and no wonder. He just had the best football game of his career. "In a hurry?" Adam asks, pitching himself down on the bench next to me and lazily undoing his laces. "Uh, yeah," I mumble. "I put off this paper for a while and I gotta get to it." "It's Friday night. Do it tomorrow," Adam says frowning. "Naw, I gotta get it done tonight. Promised my professor. I already missed a deadline." Adam leans in and frowns at me. "Bull. You never came back to the party a couple weeks ago, and now you're gonna sneak off and not come tonight? You've got a piece on the side." "I've got a paper," I insist. "What's the problem? She ugly or something? Don’t want to bring her around?" Devon asks. He's come up behind us and has been listening. My neck muscles tense and I practically growl at him. He throws up his hands apologetically. "Damn, alright. Everybody's so sensitive around here. Made of porcelain or something." Adam is still staring at me, and I look back at him as I grab a towel and head for the showers. "Just let it go, man," I advise him, and he shrugs. In the showers, I try to go as fast as possible while also making sure I don't fucking stink for my date tonight. It's my first date with Britt, and I don't want it to be my last. On my way out, I grab my phone and shoot her a text with my address. I'd like to be able to beat her there, but I doubt that will be possible. My fears are confirmed as I'm swarmed again as I come out of the stadium. I sign a few autographs, and then put my head down and just begin to barrel ahead. At my size, it's impossible to try to go around anyone. I hop in my car, and in ten minutes, with the post-game traffic, I'm pulling into the underground parking lot in my building. I hurry up to the lobby, and sure enough, Britt is standing right outside. I give her a wave and open the door. She smiles at me, but I detect a nervousness, fear even. I slip my hand as comfortingly as I can around her waist, and place a soft kiss on her cheek. She's wearing a t-shirt that stretches over her breasts, and jeans that hug her in all the right places. If she's got any makeup on at all, I can't tell.

"You look beautiful," I murmur. "Thanks," she replies. "You sure you don't just want to rest tonight? I bet you need to ice your arm." I look at her in surprise. "No, I'm good. Maybe I'll ice during dinner," I tell her as we head up in the elevator. "Dinner?" "Yeah, of course, what'd you think?" She looks down at her feet, and I can guess. "Oh, you thought this might have been a booty call." "I don't mean to be rude, but...you do have a certain reputation." "No, that's okay, I get it," I tell her, unlocking my apartment door and ushering her inside. "Woah," she says, spotting the dining room table that I set before I headed out to the game this afternoon. "I thought about taking you somewhere outside the city for dinner, where I wouldn't get recognized, but honestly…" "You're super famous?" she finishes for me with a laugh. "Hey, you said it," I reply with a smile. "I'll have to reheat everything, but I got us a feast from this barbecue place on Belmont. It's supposed to be the best." "Oh yeah, I know that place. I went there all the time growing up," she says. "It's my favorite." In short order we're sitting down at the table, and I even light the candles in the center that my mom insisted on getting to decorate the place. Britt insists on getting an ice pack from the freezer and helping me wrap it around my right shoulder. I eat like a ravenous animal, and Britt watches me in amazement. "Sorry," I finally realize, and lean back, the food almost gone. "No, that's okay. I can't imagine how many calories you burn. How's the ice? Do you need a new pack?" she reaches over and places her delicate fingers on the blue plastic cover. I take her hand. It practically disappears in mine. Her eyes widen a little, but she stands as I pull her toward me while I push my chair out from the table. She lands in my lap, and I wrap my arms around her. I can almost reach my fingers all the way around her tiny waist. "Hunter?" she whispers, as I lean my head toward hers. Her lips look so enticing...like fresh berries I want to dig my teeth into. "Mm?" I murmur, brushing my lips softly against hers. "Never mind," she breathes, and wraps her arms around my neck. She opens her mouth wide to mine, and it's like a bolt of electricity goes through me. I don't remember the last time I was this turned on. I don't want to wait any longer. I stand up, and guide her thighs to wrap around my waist. I carry her into the bedroom and lean over to place her on her back on the bed. I stand up to whip my shirt off, feeling my weary muscles protest, but I have no intention of stopping. I pull off her shoes, and then lean forward again. I want to devour every inch of her, starting with this soft spot on the side of her neck just under her ear. She squirms in ecstasy as I flick my tongue back and forth across her skin. I grin. I'm going to be the

best she's ever had. I reach down and pull her shirt off over her head, then quickly unbutton her pants and strip them off her. I lie back down on top of her, and feel her trembling beneath me. I slow down, working her mouth open with mine, before I reach behind her and unhook her bra. I lean back to pull it off her arms, and begin to salivate as I look down at her round, firm breasts. I dip my head down hungrily and take her right nipple into my mouth. I suck hard, and she cries out. I move to the other one, flicking it back and forth with my tongue, while I move my hand down her flat stomach. I slide my fingers over her panties and feel my dick twitch. She's so wet, her panties are soaking right through. I move down, sliding onto my knees on the floor and tugging her legs so that her ass is on the end of the bed. I bend my head down and can feel the heat from her opening. I reach up and slip my fingers under the sides of her underwear. "Wait!" she cries, sitting up on her elbows. I look up at her questioningly. What could possibly need to be discussed at this moment? "I...I'm a virgin," she whispers.



Chapter 15 Britt He jerks back away from me, and my embarrassment deepens. "I'm sorry. I should have told you before." "No, I just...Shit." He sits next to me on the bed, and I sit up next to him, shyly covering my exposed breasts with my arms. "I want to, you know, but I just wanted to tell you, in case I'm not any good at it." He smiles. "I doubt that will be a problem, but I do appreciate the warning. So are you completely a virgin? You haven't done anything?" "I'm a virgin in all senses of the word," I reply. He looks down at me, and must notice my discomfort, because he puts a hand at the small of my back. "It's not that I don't want to be your first. I just want you to be sure," he tells me. "I think I am. Mostly," I tell him. "Uh-huh," he replies, then falls silent for a moment. "You're sitting here naked on my bed, so I can't believe I'm saying this, but maybe we should wait. Until you're completely sure." "Thank you," I sigh. "With that said, how about a preview?" he asks, his eyes dancing. "A preview?" I ask, my entire body rising to attention again. "There are plenty of other things to do besides sex," he says, his hand sliding around toward my stomach. "No one's ever touched you here?" he asks, cupping his hand over my vagina. "No," I gasp, suddenly barely able to sit up. My head is swimming, but my eyes travel down his body, from his shoulders, to the bruise forming on his right pec, over his rippling abs, and down to the massive bulge in his pants. His middle finger flicks over my clit, and suddenly all my attention is drawn there, like a spotlight. I close my eyes as he leans down and sucks my earlobe into his mouth as his finger circles me. "I love how wet you are," he whispers, and my eyes fly open. I'm shocked by his language, but even more shocked to feel how it turns me on even more. I feel an ache begin to build between my legs. He moves his fingers up, then slides them under my panties. I find myself raising my hips up to meet him, and as his fingers touch my bare clit, I curl into his body, unable to support myself any longer. The pleasure radiating from his fingers feels like it's going to carry me away. "Lie back," he tells me, and I obey, feeling his soft duvet cover under my back as he once more kneels on the floor. Now that we're on the same page, I don't protest as he takes off my underwear. I can feel myself

shaking, and force myself to take a deep breath. Nothing could prepare me for the sensation of his mouth closing on me, though. My body arches off the bed in ecstasy as his tongue caresses me. Why there's such a difference between his finger and his tongue, I don't know, but there is. I gasp as I feel something at my opening. It's his finger, and he's sliding it inside me. He goes slowly until I can feel his knuckle pressed against me, and then begins to circle it around inside me while I get used to the sensation. Then his tongue begins to move faster, flicking back and forth across my aching nub as his finger inside me matches pace. My body fills with desire until I feel like I'm about to burst. And in a way, I do. I feel the pleasure explode out of me in waves that send my body writhing on the bed. I've had orgasms by myself before, but this one is on a different level. When I'm aware of my surroundings again, I feel Hunter lying on the bed next to me, his hand stroking my hair. I turn toward him, marveling at how at ease I feel with him seeing my naked body now. I reach down, pressing my palm onto his stomach, and then sliding it just under the top of his jeans. His eyes widen and he grunts. "Will you teach me?" I ask him. "You don't have to," he tells me, though I can see the tension in his jaw from holding back. "I want to make you feel the way you just made me feel," I tell him. "Teach me." He grins. "My pleasure." I sit up and unbuckle his belt, then unzip his pants. He helps me by standing up and pushing his pants and underwear to the ground. I gape at his cock as he turns back to me. It's curved upward all the way to his stomach, and actually moves slightly as I look at it, like it has a mind of its own. I realize I'm unconsciously licking my lips, and he smiles, then sits on the bed and moves so he's leaning back against the headboard with his legs splayed out in front of him. I crawl toward him, and he wraps his arms around me and pulls me to his chest. His cock presses against my stomach as we kiss. He tastes a little different, and I realize that it's because I'm tasting myself on his tongue. I move down, replicating what he did to my body on him. I kiss down his chest, feeling his coarse chest hair against the tip of my nose, and then move to his nipples. He groans as I suck one into my mouth. Good. Maybe I won't be terrible at this stuff. After I give his other nipple the same treatment, I move down his stomach, circling my tongue slowly around his belly button. His cock is now against my neck, and I lean back to look at it for a moment. I'm surprised to feel like I know what to do. I lean down and lick him from just above his balls on the way up to his tip. I'm rewarded with a loud groan. I look up at his face, and see his eyes are heavy-lidded with pleasure, and his lips are slightly open. "I'm not so sure you need any lessons," he says, his voice deep and caught in his throat. "But all you really need to know is to put your lips over your teeth." I nod, and wrap my hands around his cock. It's hot against my palms, and I pull it gently down as I lick my lips and then wrap them over my teeth like he said. I remind myself to breathe through my nose, and

then slide my lips over his tip and take him into my mouth. "Fuck," he sighs as my mouth moves down his shaft. I take him into the back of my throat, and then move back up. Down again, then back up. I keep going, and then begin to follow my mouth with my hand along his shaft, figuring that will feel good to him. "Damn, Britt," he groans, and I look up to see that his neck muscles are straining, and his eyes have a look of intense concentration as he watches me. A feeling of power washes over me. The star quarterback, eagerly awaiting the next flick of my tongue. I begin to move faster and faster, taking him as deeply as I can, until my eyes begin to water. He grunts, and his hips buck. Suddenly my mouth is full of warm liquid, and I instinctively swallow as I move back up and down a couple more times before I pull my head up and rest back on my heels. "I'm sorry," he gasps, looking alarmed and reaching for a tissue from on top of his nightstand. "I should have warned you. I just got carried away. Did you swallow?" he asks as he hands me the tissue and I dab my mouth. "Was I not supposed to?" "No, you can. Some girls just don't like to," he explains. "And I'm clean. I make sure to get checked." "So, I did alright then?" I ask, as he pulls me toward him. He turns on his side, and tugs the sheets from under us, and then pulls them over. He laughs. "You did amazing," he says, brushing my lips with a kiss. "I liked doing it," I whisper as his dark brown eyes dance. I reach up and run a finger down his cheek, feeling a slight bit of stubble. "And I want to do more." "Are you—" "But there's one thing first." I just realized it, when he said that he has to get checked. "I want to lose my virginity to my boyfriend, whom I'm seeing exclusively." He opens his mouth to say something, but I put my finger across his lips, silencing him. "I'm not trying to pressure you. I'm just telling you the facts." He nods, and I force myself not to try to read into the expression in his eyes. "Now we both have something to think about."



Chapter 16 Hunter My body is begging me to head straight for the locker rooms, but the reporters crowd around me. "Hunter, it looked like Ole Miss was going to spoil your perfect season. How did you turn it around in the second half?" one of them asks, shoving a microphone under my chin. I wipe the sweat and dirt from my forehead before I answer. "I have to give a lot of the credit to my guys. They really pulled it out against a tough defense." "Coach McKay is crediting your leadership skills and the touchdown you ran in during your last drive. Care to comment?" I'm speechless for a moment, but try to cover my surprise since I'm on national television. "That’s...generous of him, but I wasn't out there alone," I finally manage to say. Coach McKay giving me credit? That's practically unheard of. I answer a few more questions before one of the assistant coaches pulls me toward the visiting team's tunnel and into the locker rooms. The truth is I did have to up my running game today because of Ole Miss's defense. My receivers were pretty much stymied, and if it weren't for that last touchdown I managed to sneak in, we would have lost. Of course, now my legs feel like rubber and my chest is covered in bruises from being tackled. The mood in the locker room is exhausted but euphoric. This was our hardest-fought win of the season, against what was likely our toughest opponents. "What'd I say?" Adam says, pulling off his cleats. "We're going all the way this year." "Could be," I murmur. An NCAA championship would be the perfect cap to my college football experience, but I've never led my team to the finals before. "Coach wants to see you as soon as you're changed," one of the assistants tells me, leaning into the locker room. I nod, and pull off my shoulder pads. Coach might have complimented me publicly, but I'm sure now the other shoe will drop and he'll have something negative to say about my performance. My mind drifts to Britt. I was able to put her out of my mind for the game, but now she's back. I picture her as she looked asleep in my bed. After she told me she wants to be exclusive, I watched her sleep for a while. I felt like a creep, but I couldn't stop. I felt so calm, but now I'm wondering about the groupies that are surely gathered in the lobby of our hotel. My normal routine would be to take one or two up to my hotel room for the night before we head back to Vanover in the morning. After I shower and put on my sweat suit, I head into the hallway to look for Coach. I spot him in a small office, watching a TV mounted into the corner that's playing post-game coverage. He switches it off

as I walk in, and indicates that I should sit in the chair across from him. As I do, he takes off his Vanover baseball cap and lays it on the table, then smooths his hand over his head. "I was impressed by you today," he says. I blink in surprise. "I saw you encouraging our defense in the locker room during half time, and I know you took the blame for Adam fumbling that ball in the first quarter." "I...thank you," I mumble, unused to this kind of interaction with him. "I've been waiting on this kind of sign from you," he tells me. "In my experience, if a coach is the engine behind a player in college, that player will stall out in the pros. I've avoided doing that with you to leave space for you to step up, and now you have. And now I'm prepared to put my full support behind you. You need to ready yourself for a lot more media attention. If you thought it was crazy before, you haven't seen anything yet. They're starting to discuss you as a first-round draft pick, and you'll likely be invited to the National Combine." My eyes widen. Shit. The things that he's saying...they're my dreams. I've thought so long about them, that the feeling of them coming true feels completely surreal. And the sight of Coach's lips curving up into a smile is only adding to the feeling. Coach never smiles. "You look like a deer in headlights," he says. "Come to my office after practice on Monday. We have some things to discuss." "Okay," I reply, standing up. "Thanks, Coach." I move toward the door, but his voice stops me. "And Hunter, I don't know what caused this change within you, but I think you should commit to it. A man might only get one or two opportunities like this in his life, if he gets any at all. You've shown lately that you have the maturity and leadership to capitalize on it, but you need to make sure you keep going. Don't let it slip away." I nod, and shut the door behind me. He might not know what caused the change he's seen, but I do. It was his own daughter.



Chapter 17 Britt "I guess I just thought you were a bit more of a prude," Danielle says. "Hey!" I protest, though I know she doesn’t mean to be unkind. "Just because I don't like keggers doesn't mean I'm a prude. I want to have sex, I've just been waiting for the right guy." "And you think Hunter's it. Have you heard from him?" "I'm meeting him at his place at nine. He had to go straight to class when he got back this morning. Do you think that's bad? That he wants to tell me in person?" "Oh man, I don't know. Are you gonna be heartbroken if his answer is no?" Even hearing her suggest it makes my stomach drop. "Yes," I whisper. "Maybe it was stupid of me to let myself fall for him like this, when he has no history of relationships at all." Danielle glances at the clock. "You better get going. Good luck." On the walk over, I weigh all the evidence in my head. Hunter seems serious about me. I haven't known him very long, but I already feel like he knows me better than anyone else. We've talked about everything, and even when we're talking about serious stuff, he has a way of making it feel lighter. By the time I ring his bell and he buzzes me up, my stomach is in knots. I've imagined both of his possible responses multiple times, and have experienced the corresponding emotions multiple times, all on this short walk over. I step out of the elevator, and his door is already opening just down the hall. All of my worries disappear. He's smiling. "I'm an idiot," he says, ushering me inside. "I want you to be my girlfriend, and I should've told you that a week ago. I've grown more in the last month since knowing you than the entire rest of my time at college." "Really?" I reply, beaming. "And if you want to wait on the physical stuff that's—" "No. Thank you, but I'm ready." "Wow. Okay, then." "So, how do we…" I start eagerly. "I mean, what position is the best to start—" He cuts me off with a laugh. "Britt, you don't have to plan everything." I grin as he wraps his arms around me. "I guess I am a bit of a planner," I admit. "Just a bit," he agrees, leaning his head down. "But that's one of the things I like about you. Do you want anything to eat, or…?"

"No," I murmur. "I missed you." "I missed you, too," he whispers, then takes my hand. "Come on." He leads me through the living room and back into his bedroom. I take a deep breath as he lets go of my hand and turns to me. "Are you nervous?" I nod. "Yes, but I'm ready." "I'll go slow," he assures me. He steps toward me and bends down, brushing a soft kiss against my lips that swiftly grows into a passionate embrace. I can feel my heart pounding against his massive chest as his hands move down and slide over my ass. I reach down and tug at the bottom of his t-shirt, and he steps back to pull it over his head. A foolish grin spreads across my face at the sight of his naked torso. I can't believe I'm with a guy who looks like he's chiseled from marble. I slide off my shoes and then pull my own tank top off over my head. He leans over and gently bites the top of my breasts, and I giggle. As he pulls my right cup down and sucks my nipple into his mouth, my laughter turns into a gasp of pleasure. I tilt my head back and feel his hand supporting me at the small of my back. His fingers move to my bra strap and I feel it falling away from me, leaving me exposed to his mouth. He stands up straight again, and as he watches me, I move my fingers to my zipper and push my pants to the ground. Grinning, he pulls his own athletic shorts off so we're both facing each other in our underwear. He reaches out and pulls me toward him, then spins me around at the last second so my ass is pressing into him. His places one huge palm in the middle of my chest and then slides it down as I allow my head to rest back against him. His fingers slide under my panties and I moan. I arch my back, and can feel his cock pressing against me. He presses two fingers slowly inside me and moves his thumb to my clit. I grip his thighs, needing to hang on to something. My body twitches as his fingers work their magic. My anxiety only breaks through now and then, when I feel the size of his cock against me and worry about the upcoming pain. I can feel how wet I am against his hand, and he leans down to murmur in my ear, "You're gorgeous, Britt." I tilt my face up to kiss him, and am overwhelmed by a feeling of rightness. I made a good choice. Everything in me is telling me that I'm meant to be here with Hunter right now. I slowly turn my body toward him, and feel him withdraw his fingers. I push my underwear to the ground, and then reach forward and pull his boxer-briefs away from his stomach and then down to the plush carpet. He steps out of them, and as I straighten back up, I'm again confronted with his size. Surely it can't be even bigger than the last time I saw him naked, but now I'm thinking about how he'll fit inside me. "It might hurt some," he warns me, reading the expression in my eyes. "Even for women who aren't virgins, it can be...overwhelming." "I know. I did research," I tell him. He grins. "Of course you did." He takes my hand again and leads me to the bed and pulls down the duvet cover. I climb onto the sheets and move over to give him room. He lies down next to me, and slides

his hand over my bare stomach. "I want to make you as ready as possible," he says, bending down and sucking my nipple into his mouth. I gasp, and arch into his warmth. "I think I'm ready." He stops and looks up at me with a wicked look in his dark brown eyes. "I want to make you beg for it." I shiver with anticipation, and he moves down my stomach. His lips kiss and nip over my belly button, and then he's breathing on my mound. I grip the sheets as he takes a long lick of me and then flicks his tongue back and forth. He presses two fingers inside me again, and I can feel him purposefully rounding them against my interior walls, stretching me as much as possible. He begins to thrust them in and out as he circles me faster and faster with his tongue. What he's doing feels amazing, but now that I know there's the possibility of more… "Hunter, please," I breathe. "I need you. Please," I beg. He grunts, and a long arm shoots out to his bedside table. There's a pause, and then his head lifts. He has an alarmed look in his eyes, and he moves to the edge of the bed, feeling around desperately. "Fuck!" he swears. "I'm such an idiot. I don't have girls over here that much and…" "What?" I frown, feeling dazed and not comprehending what he's talking about. "I don't have any more condoms." "My wallet!" I realize. "In my purse," I explain, pointing to where I dropped it by his bedroom door. Thank god I kept a condom when they handed them out during health class in high school. His eyes light up and he practically springs out of bed. He digs through it, and a moment later triumphantly holds up a small black square. As he walks back over to the bed, he rips it open with his teeth and I watch wonderingly as he rolls the latex down his length. More slowly, he slips back onto the bed and kisses me. He gently rolls on top of me, keeping almost all his weight on his elbows, and I feel his cock against my stomach. He pulls his mouth away from mine, and reaches down to hold his shaft in one hand, guiding it to my opening. Our eyes meet, and it's not just lust I see in his. There's care, and concern, and excitement. I feel the head of his cock against my slit, and then a ton of pressure. I feel him hold for a second, and then he keeps going. My mouth drops open and I gasp. "Fuck, that hurts," I murmur, as tears spring to my eyes. "We should stop," he replies, but I grab his muscular arm. "Don't you dare," I whisper fiercely, and he smiles. "You sure?" "It'll feel good soon, right?" "That's the idea," he whispers. Without moving his torso, he reaches his arm down and pulls my knees further apart, and then brings a finger back to my clit. I moan as he rubs me there, and feel him thrust in a little further. There's another almost blinding rush of pain in my body, and he stops.

He keeps going like this, moving haltingly and making sure that I'm okay before he proceeds. Finally, I feel his hips pressing against mine, and look down. There's not a millimeter of air between our bodies. "Well, Britt McKay, you're officially not a virgin," he whispers. I giggle, and wrap my arms around the back of his neck. He opens his lips to mine, and our tongues dance together as I feel him move his hips in a small circle. I jump and pull my mouth away as an unfamiliar feeling of pleasure moves from deep inside me. "That's different," I breathe, my eyes wide. "That's nothing," he grunts, then slowly pulls back out. He pulls his cock out until only his head is inside me, and then moves in again. There's a stinging sensation now, but the sharp pain is much less. Again, he moves out and in, and then again and again. It feels like he's stoking a fire deep inside me with every thrust. I want him to keep going, so I lift my hips and curl them toward his. He hits inside me at a slightly different angle, and by his sharp intake of breath, I know he felt it, too. He props himself up a little higher on one elbow and looks down at me as with his other hand, he takes my knee and pulls it up higher and then pins it against the mattress. With his next thrust, I let out a small cry. "I didn't know it could feel like this," I confess, as I press my hips against his. I want to feel him deeper, harder. "Me neither," he groans, and slams his body into mine. I reach my hands above my head and press my palms flat onto his headboard. He's driving into me hard and fast now, and I need to stabilize myself against him. Every thrust inside me feels like it could push me over the edge. His neck muscles are bulging out, and I can tell he's waiting for me to come before he allows himself to. I close my eyes, and as though from far away, I hear myself crying out again and again as his cock pounds inside me. "Oh, fuck, Hunter! Yes, Yes!"



Chapter 18 Hunter As she sleeps, I rush down the hallway and knock on Adam's door. I don't want to leave her, but I think she'll appreciate the reason. There's no sound on the other side of the door, and I wonder if he's out partying, celebrating last night's victory. Finally, I hear a chair fall over and Adam's loud swearing as he makes his way to the door. He yanks the door open, looking only slightly mollified when he sees it's me. He's shirtless and his hair is a mess, so I can tell I've interrupted something. "Well, well," he mutters, leaning on the doorjamb. "You didn't even come to the party tonight, did you?" he asks, squinting out into the hallway light. "Adam, don't give me this shit." "It's our senior year. You should see the girl I've got back there. Her clit's pierced." "That's great. I need some condoms, actually." If I don't get to the point, he'll move on to the rest of her anatomy. "I knew it! You are seeing someone." He frowns. "Wait, are you seeing her, seeing her?" "Yeah, she's...you know, she's my girlfriend," I reply. Shit, I haven't said that out loud, even to Britt. It feels good to say it, just awkward in my mouth. To my surprise, Adam laughs. "You're really going to tie yourself down now? Senior year, when you're going to get drafted into the NFL in the spring?" "Just get me the condoms, man," I shrug. "Fine," he grunts, and turns around and plods back to his bedroom. I hear a giggle from the other room, and then he returns with a row of condoms and pushes them at my chest. "So, what's her name?" "Thanks for these!" I reply, and head back down the hallway. I can hear him slam the door shut behind me. Adam's my best friend, so I guess I'll need to smooth things over with him, but we aren't exactly big talkers. I frown as I walk back into my dark apartment. Adam brought up a good point, much as I don't want to think about it. What will happen when I head off to whatever city drafts me, and Britt is left behind here, finishing up school? Life on the road for a professional football player is hard enough with a wife at home, much less a girlfriend who's in college in another state. I tiptoe back into the bedroom, and my worries melt as I see Britt in my bed. Whatever happens, we'll work it out. She's still asleep, and her hair looks crazier than usual from our earlier activity. It's spread around the pillow behind her head like a halo, and her lips are slightly parted. I softly pull the sheet up and slip in

next to her, watching her breasts rise and fall with her breath. Her eyes open the slightest bit and she sees me watching her. Her lips curl up into a smile, and she reaches her hand out and places her palm on my chest. "Again," she murmurs mischievously. "What? Seriously?" I ask, though I can already feel my dick getting hard. "There's so much to try," she sighs, her eyes opening more at the prospect. I laugh, thinking about how it seems like that to me, too. I thought that sexually, I'd done it all and there was nothing new out there, but with Britt, everything feels undiscovered. I reach my hands between her legs. She gasps as I slide a finger over her. "You sore?" I ask, feeling her grow wet against me. "You play sore all the time, right?" she asks. I can tell by the dreamy expression in her eyes that she's trying to concentrate, but she's having a hard time with my finger playing with her clit. "Very true," I agree. "I got us some more condoms," I tell her, nodding to the nightstand. "Good," she grunts, and reaches toward my dick. I groan as her soft fingers wrap around me, and I stiffen fully. Her hand moves up and down me, her fingers cresting over my head again and again. Her hand moves down further, and she gently rubs my balls. I can feel her watching me, gauging my reaction to everything as she learns what I like. "Can I go on top?" she whispers shyly. I grin. "Fuck yes," I tell her, and take a condom out. After I put it on, she slides one slender leg across my stomach and then sits up. I put my hands on her knees and then run them up her thighs, over her stomach, and onto her breasts. Her hard nipples pulse underneath my palms, and I tighten my fingers over them. All mine. She raises herself up and back, and I help her by holding my cock straight up in my hand. She bites her lip as she lowers herself down on top of me, and I watch her wince in pain as I enter her. She closes her eyes for a second, and then continues. She's as stubborn as I am when I want to finish a game even though I'm injured. I groan as she moves down my cock. She's so fucking tight and wet, it's unbelievable. When she reaches my base, her eyes open, and she looks triumphant. I smile up at her. "You're perfect," I murmur. "Impossible." "To me," I insist. Her eyes look a little misty, but she slowly raises herself back up on my cock, never breaking eye contact for an instant. Her head tilts back, the small of her back arches forward, and she rides me up and down. I can't believe this is her first time, though the spot of blood she left on my sheets earlier couldn't be clearer. She's just a natural, her hips squeezing me just right, her pace exactly where I want it to be. I reach forward and glide my thumb over her clit. She cries out, and I admire her beautiful, pale throat. I slide my thumb around and around, and with my other hand, I take hers and move it toward her crotch.

Her eyes open and she looks at me curiously, wondering what I'm up to. I'm thrilled I get to introduce her to every possibility. I take my hand away and take one of her fingers and press it onto her clit. Her eyes widen, and she stiffens a little, her every movement pressing her muscles differently against my cock. "I want to watch you," I tell her. She blushes a little, but willingly begins to circle herself with her finger. I let my hands rest on her thighs, my eyes glued to her petite, curvy body. I want to see all of her at once. Her full, high breasts, the gentle curve of her waist, and especially the glistening slit between her legs. I lick my lips as my eyes zero in there, and watch as her finger grows damp from her own wetness. She moans and begins to move faster. I knew she'd like touching herself on top of me just as much as I like watching her. Her muscles clench tighter and tighter around me. The ache in my cock grows sharper. I wrap my hands around her hips and begin to pull her up and down harder and faster, and thrust my hips up into her, driving myself as far into her as I can. She cries out, her finger desperately circling her clit. I feel my body strain to keep myself from coming inside her before she orgasms. It's tough when she's this fucking hot and this fucking tight. Her screams peak, and I feel her muscles spasm around my cock. I don't have a choice...she pulls the orgasm out of me, her pussy drawing my seed out of me, begging me for completion. I stroke inside her a few more times. Her body begins to droop from exhaustion, and she collapses on top of me. Her curls are wet with sweat, and I'm not exactly dry myself. She rests her head on my chest, and I brush a kiss onto her forehead. As I wrap my arms around her and feel her go to sleep on top of me, I'm seized with an overwhelming feeling of protectiveness. I haven't known Britt for long, but I don't think there's much I wouldn't do for her, if anything. I wasn't looking for something serious, but I'm in deep and there's no turning back.



Chapter 19 Britt Danielle and I stroll arm and arm into Victoria's Secret, giggling. "Okay so you won't give me any details, but it's good, right?" "It's not good. It's amazing," I sigh. "And you've done...different things?" she asks suggestively. "So many different things. Hunter says he wants to show me all the possibilities before we repeat any position. Or location," I giggle. "Oh my god, I'm about to faint with jealousy," she groans. "You are so lucky." We stop by a rack of black lace baby doll slips. I run my fingers over them, thinking of the plain white underwear I've always worn. I asked Danielle to come here with me to help me pick out something sexy, and to get fitted for the right size bra. "Sometimes I worry... I mean, I think the sex is mind-blowing, but what if he doesn't? He's been with so many women. How could I possibly live up to them? What if he gets tired of not having a variety?" My heart is gripped with panic as I speak. I didn't realize quite how worried I was until I say it out loud. "Britt. You said he hasn't even looked at another girl, and it's been what, two months?" I nod. "I just mean, I think if he wanted to be with someone else, he would be. Here, try this on," she says, pushing a set of pink mesh underwear and a bra at me. I study them. She made a good choice. They're sexy, but not overtly so. I'll still feel comfortable in them, while also feeling like I'm trying something new. Winter break is coming up, and I want to give Hunter something to remember me by. On our way to the dressing rooms, Danielle grabs me a few more options, then leans against the door outside as I try them on. "You're still worrying, aren't you?" she finally asks. "Oh, yeah," I confirm. I tug the front part of the bra that I'm trying on. It doesn't sit against my breast bone, so I think I need to size up. The door opens and Danielle pokes her head in. I might have minded a few months ago, but I'm far less modest around her now. "I've seen the way you two look at each other. You're in love," she says with a smile. "I...oh," I realize, feeling the wind knocked out of me as I sink onto a small velvet settee in the corner of the dressing room. "You didn't know?" "I guess I didn't. Or I did. I'm not sure. Of course I do, though. Of course I love him. Now that I say it, it seems like the most obvious thing in the world."

"And he loves you, too," she tells me with a knowing nod. "You think?" I ask, surprised to feel a tear slip down my cheek as I look up at her. "Why are you crying?" she asks, kneeling in front of me. I shrug. "It's just scary, I guess. I've never been in love before. I feel so out of control all of a sudden, and like I'm open to a whole new possibility for pain. I don't mean to sound so dramatic, but…" "I get it," she says softly. "When my high school boyfriend and I broke up, it was like I didn't know that I could feel that much." She rises onto her heels and gives me a hug. "For what it's worth, I don't think Hunter will ever hurt you like that." She glances down at my chest and raises her eyebrows. "And that bra is too small for you." "That's what I thought," I reply, tugging at it. "I'll get you a bigger size. Try not to dissolve into tears while I'm gone," she adds cheekily, and shuts the door behind her as she leaves. A half an hour later, and I'm headed out of the store with two new bras and a set of panties. Danielle heads back to our dorm, while I head over to the athletic facility to meet my dad in the parking lot at the car. I've only been there for a few minutes when he walks out and gives me a wave. It's Sunday, and I promised I'd do dinner at home with him since I haven't seen him much the past few weeks. On the ride back to our house, I tell him about my classes, and he tells me about the last game. Hunter's name comes up, and I try not to smile too big as my dad compliments his performance. There's a slight chill in the air as we walk up to the front door from the driveway, but nothing too bad. Nashville never gets too cold even in November, and snowstorms are rare. I breathe in deeply as we walk in. I never noticed that the house had a particular smell when I lived here, but now that I don't, I notice it every time I come back. It smells like wood shine and pine. My dad heads to the kitchen, and I head upstairs to take a shower. It's such a relief to shower at home where I don't have to wear shower shoes. As I get undressed, my phone rings, and I smile as I pull it out of my purse. I turn on the water just to be safe, so my dad doesn't hear me talking to Hunter in his own house. "Hey," I answer softly. "Hey, babe," he says. I can immediately sense something's wrong from the tone of his voice. Over the past couple months, we've developed an uncanny ability to read one another. "What is it?" He sighs. "Um, your dad invited me over to talk about my future." "That's great!" I enthuse. Hunter's been getting so much attention lately, and I know he's overwhelmed. His parents definitely have their opinions, but they've never been at the center of it like my dad has. "Well, yes and no," Hunter replies, his deep voice sounding unsure. "I'm coming over tonight. For dinner." "What? At my house?" I ask, feeling like he's saying something that can't possibly be true.

"Yeah...he invited me, and I accepted, and then he told me that you'd be there. Obviously he just said his daughter…" "Right," I reply, my mind swimming. "But by that point I couldn’t back out. It happened really quickly. He just called me a half hour ago. Maybe you can say you have to study or something?" he suggests hopefully. "I can't. I'm already here," I groan. "So this is really happening," Hunter says. "Yep. We are really about to have dinner together. At my childhood house. With my dad." "Sorry, babe. Maybe it won't be too bad," he says. "Right," I reply doubtfully. After my shower, I head downstairs with my hair still damp. My dad's in the kitchen making lasagna, and I head over to stir the ground beef. "I wanted this to just be us tonight, but I invited one of my players over," my dad says as he chops oregano. "Oh?" I reply casually. "Hunter Phillips, the quarterback. He's getting so much attention from NFL scouts now that I want to make sure he's still got his head on straight. His parents are in his ear, and I want to make sure he takes a breath and gets some solid advice." "Well, I'm sure you'll give him that." "I hope so. He was practically raised from birth to be a star quarterback. His parents gave him all the right training and pushed him to the limit, but never gave him any real values." "That's too bad," I reply. Hunter's told me about his parents himself, but it's interesting to hear my dad talk about them. I know Hunter grew up idolizing them, but lately he's been questioning them more and more, coming around closer to what seems to be my father's impression of them. "Lately, though, he seems different. He's a real leader out on the field now. Taking younger players under his wing, always displaying a positive attitude for others to follow." I have to bite my lip to stop from beaming with pride. That's the Hunter I've come to know…and love.



Chapter 20 Hunter I pull up to the simple red brick house. I'm almost certain Coach could afford something flashier, but that's not his way. I run my hand nervously through my hair and make sure my button down shirt is tucked into my khakis. I feel like I'm a private, presenting myself for inspection to the general. As I step out of the car, I look around, imagining Britt growing up here. I wonder if she played in the front yard...maybe there were other kids in the neighborhood that would stop by. I have to ask her. I find myself needing to know every little detail about her past as though it's a new little nugget to savor. I walk up the front steps and stop. I can see through the front windows back to the kitchen. Britt is stirring something over the stove, and has a wide smile across her face. Her hair's wet, and she wears a plain white t-shirt. I could stand out here forever and just watch the way she moves. A shadow moves behind her and I start. It's Coach, setting something in the sink. I can't be acting like a love struck teenager in front of him tonight. He might be supportive of me now, but I can only imagine how quickly the tide would turn if he found out what I've been doing with his daughter. He'd probably put my head on a stake outside the field as a warning to all the other players. I stride up the last couple steps, take a deep breath, and knock. "I'll get it!" I can just hear Britt call out from inside. I hear her light footsteps, and then a moment later the door swings open. "Hunter, it's nice to meet you," she says, extending her hand. "I've seen you play. I'm Britt, Coach McKay's daughter." She's all formality, but she can't resist a quick wink at the end. I almost smile, but then I see Coach walking in from the kitchen. "Nice to meet you too, Britt," I reply. I feel electricity as our palms touch. That attraction to her hasn't changed from day one. I pull my hand back as Coach puts an arm around her shoulders. "Thanks for coming on such short notice, Hunter," Coach says. "With the away game next week, and the holidays coming up, I wasn't sure we'd have another chance to talk." "No problem at all," I assure him. "I'm happy to have a home-cooked meal." "Well, I made double what I usually do. I've seen you eat." I feel slightly dumbfounded as Britt moves behind me to close the door and Coach motions me inside. Did Coach just joke around with me? I didn't know he was even capable of doing such a thing. "I'll finish up if you two want to talk," Britt offers. "Thanks," her dad replies. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Britt walk back into the kitchen as her father points me toward a couch. The kitchen is open to the living room but the couch is facing forward so I can't see Britt. It's probably a good thing, so I won't be distracted by her curves during my conversation

with her father. Coach sits in an armchair. I can tell by the way he settles back into it that this is his usual spot. "Tell me about which agencies have made you offers," he begins. Now that we're focused on football, I feel more confident. I launch into a description. There's a lot to tell him...every agency has a different feel, a different way of dealing with its clients, and a different way of seeing who I am both as a player and a product. I find myself talking for a long time. All of my friends on the team love to contribute their two cents, my parents are incensed that I'm not just blindly taking their advice, and when I'm with Britt, I just want to forget about all of this stuff and just be with her, so it's a relief to lay everything out for Coach. He listens silently, nodding every now and then, and then leans forward slightly when I finish. "I think your choice here is really between two agencies," he says. I feel instantly lighter. I've been wanting someone to really break it down for me. "Davenport and Associates and Ginsberg Daniels. Davenport has more of a boutique feel. It's smaller, and their clients get more individual attention. But they're newer, and some companies have long-standing relationships with Ginsberg Daniels, so you might not have the opportunity to immediately get such lucrative endorsements. But with Ginsberg Daniel's size, they might be able to give you less attention and time." "Ginsberg Daniels has seemed really attentive so far," I tell him. "They're all going to be like that in the beginning," he tells me. "Everyone is going to come to you and tell you how amazing they think you are. But don't forget that every one of those people wants a piece of you. Every single one. You're the one out on the field risking your health every day, and never forget that. They work for you, not the other way around. Don't be fooled by the pomp and circumstance. They're all showing you their best sides right now, but there are other sides. A lot of players wind up being taken advantage of. They sign without reading everything, or they give too much money away to their relatives, or they party too much and blow their signing bonus and then bam! Next game, they tear their ACL." I wince instinctively. "I'm not trying to scare you...well, maybe I am," he acknowledges. "I do like the guy I've been talking to at Davenport," I acknowledge. "Ginsberg Daniels is flashier, but sometimes I do get the feeling that they're blowing smoke. I mean, I haven't even been to the Combine yet." Coach nods. "Well, you don't have to make a decision now, but I like where your head's at. Don't let anything sidetrack you." "I won't. This is everything I've ever wanted, and I don't intend to screw it up," I promise him. I realize it's been quiet behind me in the kitchen as Britt tries to overhear our conversation. "Dinner's ready!" she suddenly calls, breezing past us on the way to the dining room with cutlery in hand.



Chapter 21 Britt We sit down together at the table, my father at the head, and Hunter directly across from me. I try not to make direct eye contact with him, because I know how my cheeks tend to flush. Hunter raises his hand to reach for his fork, and I reach my foot under the table and give his leg a gentle tap. He looks up in surprise, and I nod toward my father, who is closing his eyes to say Grace. Hunter smiles at me gratefully, and we all close our eyes and bow our heads. "Bless us, oh Lord, for the bounty we are…" my father begins. As he speaks, his words so familiar to me, I feel my stomach lurch. My eyes snap open, and I frown. Hunter and my father haven't noticed, and I take a deep breath through my nose to try to quell my sudden nausea, and close my eyes again. When he finishes, we all say "Amen," and my father cuts the lasagna with a spatula and serves us each a big helping. My father and Hunter start talking about the defense they'll be facing next week, and I push my food around my plate with my fork. "Something wrong, Britt? I thought lasagna was your favorite." My head snaps up and I find my father looking at me worriedly. "It is, I love it. I think I might just be coming down with something, actually. Could you excuse me?" I get up from the table and head to the first floor bathroom under the staircase. As soon as I shut the door behind me, my nausea overpowers me, and I lurch toward the toilet. I make it just in time, and take a deep breath as my vomiting subsides. I sit back against the wall and take a piece of toilet paper to wipe my mouth. Do I know anyone else who's sick? Maybe something's going around the dorm. But besides the nausea, which has now subsided, I don't really feel that sick. Maybe a little tired, but between my classes and Hunter, I guess I've been stretched a little thin. Hunter... Something tugs at the back of my mind, something I feel like I should pay attention to. The nausea, the tiredness, my already sizable breasts feeling even bigger. My eyes fly open in alarm. No. No, no, no. That can't be possible. I can't be pregnant. Hunter and I always use protection. Always. I even went to the Health Center after we started dating and went on the pill, just to be extra careful even though we still use condoms. The woman at the Health Center said it was normal for my period to be irregular for the first few months of taking the pill, so I thought it didn't mean anything that I wasn't getting it. Hormones can make your body act crazy, right?

Hormones. Maybe that's all this is. If I'm on the pill, which tricks my body into making me think it's pregnant, then maybe I'm just having a reaction to the hormones. That has to be it. Hunter and I are always so careful. I stand up. I feel a little dizzy, but otherwise alright. I wash my mouth out with some water, flush the toilet, and head back to the table. "You feeling okay?" Hunter asks as I sit down. I hope my dad doesn't read too much into the concern in his voice. "Fine now, thanks," I reply, picking up my fork and digging into the lasagna. "What were you guys talking about?" When we finish dinner, we gather the plates and take them to the kitchen. Despite the fact that I'm not feeling one hundred percent, seeing Hunter help my father with the dishes is a sight that fills me with delight. He's so tall and has such wide shoulders, that he completely dwarfs the modest space. Afterward, we walk into the living room to sit down for a little, and then Hunter leans forward. "Thanks for your hospitality, Coach, but I don't want to keep you too late," he says. "I guess I should let you get home," my dad says, standing and shaking his hand. "Give me a call if you have any questions." "Will do. Britt, pleasure to meet you," Hunter adds, turning to me. "If you live on campus, I'm happy to give you a ride home." I glance at my dad, implicitly asking his permission. "If it wouldn't be any trouble," my dad replies. "Not at all," Hunter says. My father nods. "Alright then, thanks." We walk to the door and I give my dad a quick hug, my feeling of guilt peaking. I walk behind Hunter to his car, and he walks to the driver's side to open the door for me. Conscious that my dad could still see us, we don't even touch until we're turning the corner down the block, when Hunter finally reaches for my hand and holds it. "I think it went well, right?" he asks. "He really likes you," I tell him. "I feel like I was meeting my girlfriend's dad for the first time, even though that's not the case at all," he says with a laugh. "Want to come over to my place?" "I do, but I'm actually still not feeling great. I don't want to get you sick with your games being so important now," I tell him. Vanover is on track to win the NCAA championships this year, plus all the NFL scouts are watching Hunter closely, parsing through his actions on every play. All too quickly, we're pulling up on the street behind my dorm. We both instinctively glance around to make sure no one can see us, but it's night and there are only a couple of people walking around. Hunter leans across the console and slips his hand onto my cheek. "I'm sick!" I protest. "I don't care," he murmurs, pressing his lips over mine. I melt immediately, my lips opening to his

as his tongue softly slides over mine. "You're gonna make this hard for me, aren't you?" I whisper. "I love you," he says back. It takes a moment to register. I blink, and pull my head back an inch. A grin spreads across my face. "You love me?" I repeat gleefully. "Yes," he replies, a grin sliding across his All-American face. "I love you, too," I reply, and wrap my arms around his neck and bury my face in his neck. Everything about him feels right to me. I lean back and kiss him again. "I'll come over tomorrow night after your practice, okay?" "Okay," he replies. I step out of the car and am about to close the door when I lean back down. I have to say these new words once more. "I love you." "I love you," he says. I shut the door and wave as he pulls away. I'm walking on air as I head into the dorm, and practically dance out of the elevator and down to my door. Danielle looks up as I enter. "He loves me! We said it!" I shout. Danielle jumps up and we both start squealing. "I knew it! I knew it!" she crows and leans in to give me a hug. "Wait, I might be sick!" I warn her. "Really? What's wrong?" "I think it's just my birth control, like the hormones, but I threw up earlier." "That's weird. Anything else?" "Well, I haven't gotten my period, but that's normal right?" Her eyebrows raise. "Normal?" "On birth control, it's normal to miss a couple, right?" I say, feeling a little nervous. "You mean spotting, or none at all?" "None at all." Danielle sits down at her desk chair. "So you're nauseous, and how many periods have you missed?" "Two," I admit. "But I know what you're thinking, and I can't be pregnant. Before I was on birth control, we used condoms." "Did they slip ever? Or maybe he pulled out once? Or they were expired?" "Well, I mean, the very first time we had sex I only had this really old condom from high school, but…" I trail off, reading the concern etched on her face. I sit down on my bed. "It's okay, don't panic," she says. "We can go to the pharmacy tomorrow." "No. Tonight. I have to know," I whisper. "I can't be pregnant, Danielle." I rest my head in my hands. "Hunter is going to the NFL, my dad would—"

"Wait. Wait. It's too soon for that talk. Come on. I'll go with you," she says, grabbing her coat. * * * In the dorm bathroom, we stare down at the little blue plus sign on the pregnancy kit. I turn and vomit into the toilet. Not from nausea, but because I've never been so panicked in my life. "You have options," Danielle says quietly. "It might seem that way, but I don't," I reply. "Of course you do," she insists. "No," I shake my head, and slide down the stall door until I'm seated on the cold blue tile. "The truth is, I already know I want to keep him." "Him?" "Oh. I don't know. It just came out that way." I hide my face in my hands. "You're sure?" Danielle asks, sitting down next to me. "I don't want to pressure you either way, but if you do…terminate, your life could go back to normal." "But it wouldn't be normal. I'd have to hide it from my dad, because he'd never forgive me, and I've already lied to him enough. Besides, this…baby," I finally say, the words both terrifying and exhilarating, "belongs to Hunter and me. I can already feel myself loving it." "Okay, then," Danielle says, accepting what I've said, and proving again what a great friend she is. "So you and Hunter will—" she stops as I shake my head. "No. I can't tell him. He'll insist on marrying me and coming clean to my dad, and my dad will pull his support completely. He'll torpedo Hunter's NFL chances." "But maybe—" "Hunter would always resent me," I tell her. "I can't have that. This baby and me would be like a millstone around his neck." "So what, you're like a sacrificial lamb?" Danielle says, her brow furrowing. "You're the smartest person I know. You can't just throw your future away. You still get to have a dream, too." "You're right," I tell her. "So how can I do both? I'm genuinely asking." Danielle takes a deep breath. "Transfer schools. With your grades, you could go anywhere. Do you have anyone who could help you out? A grandmother, a cousin? You're going to need support." "My aunt," I realize. "My mom's sister. She lives in Oregon. She was always too much of a bohemian for my dad so he never much kept in touch with her, but she always sends me notes and wants to be in touch more." "Good. We'll call her. Maybe she'll let you stay with her for a bit, and then you could reapply to a school out in Oregon. You could get a part-time job and still graduate. Maybe you'll have to choose just one major, but lots of women do that."

"Lots of single mothers," I correct her. "It will be hard, but if anyone could do it, it's you, Britt. Promise me you'll still graduate, okay?" Danielle asks, taking my hand. "I promise," I tell her, squeezing her hand hard. I begin to sob. "It's alright," Danielle says, wrapping her arm around my shoulder. "No, it's not," I gasp. "I love Hunter so much, and now I have to leave him."



Chapter 22 Hunter I stretch out on the practice field, leaning down to touch my toes. Even though we had an away game this weekend, I still feel limber and ready to go. Not just my body, but my mind, too. Everything feels clear and focused. Britt's been sick all week so I haven't been able to see her, and I can't wait to tell her. I think she's been being overly careful about not getting me sick, but she knows how important the game is to me right now. Adam and I fist-bump as he walks by and sits down on the grass next to me. I glance up at the big clock on the back of the building. Almost time for practice, and no sign of Coach. Could he be running late for the first time in his life? A loud crash causes everyone on the field to glance back toward the building. I look around in confusion for a second, and then realize that the sound is coming from his office. Some of the other seniors and I walk a little closer, and through the window in Coach's office where he can look out onto the practice field, we see him picking things up off his desk and throwing them against the wall. He looks red-faced and furious. I glance at Adam warily. He shakes his head, neither of us aware of anything that could have caused this kind of reaction. I jog back to my duffel bag that I left on the bench. I better check in with Britt. If anything, she might be able to talk her dad down from this kind of state. I'm about to call her when I see I have a new email from her, sent just five minutes ago. I smile and open it. Hunter, I'm so sorry to have to do this over email. You certainly deserve better. I'm leaving. Maybe it's best that you don't know where I'm going, but know that I'll be safe and taken care of. The last few months with you have been the best of my life, but I need to be alone for a while. I've grown up and lived in a ten square mile box for my whole life, and I need to get out and see the world before I settle down. I would say that I hope you understand, but I know that's asking too much, and forgiveness is out of the question. The world has just begun to see what you are capable of. Keep going. Don't let anything stand in your way. Britt What is this bullshit? My face clouds and I call her. Straight to voicemail. I call her again. Again.

Adam's hand on my shoulder. "You okay?" I shrug him off. She didn't leave. Impossible. I feel a great chasm in the earth open at my feet. I want to jump in. I'll find her, that's it. I'll find her and bring her back here. Did she really love me? She can't. If she loved me like I love her, she never would have left like this. It was all a lie. A crash and splintering glass. I look up to Coach's office and see his computer lying on the grass outside it. He tossed it clean through his window. He glowers from inside the wreckage of his office, and I see my own feelings mirrored on his face. Britt's gone. She's really gone.



Chapter 23 Britt 4 years later… Paula hands Max off to me with a smile. He turned three a few months ago, but he's big for his age and it's a struggle to hold him up as he squirms to get a better look at the shiny studs in my ears. "Gentle," I remind him, as he tries to grab my earrings with his chubby fingers. "How was he?" I ask her. "His usual rambunctious self," she answers with a deep belly laugh, her silver and gold bangles merrily chiming on her wrist. Paula's been an absolute life saver to me. I reached out to her out of the blue four years ago, and she accepted me, and then Max, into her life without question or judgement. Without her, I never would have been able to finish my degree while caring for Max. Danielle was right, I did have to choose between English and Psychology, a double major being a bit too taxing for a single mother even with Aunt Paula's support. So I chose Psychology, and on a modified schedule and working through the summer, I was able to graduate summa cum laude from Portland State last spring. "How was work?" Paula asks, grabbing a glass of water from the fridge. "Fine," I reply. I've worked at a coffee shop/bookstore downtown ever since I arrived here. I'm beginning to chafe at the edges a bit, but the owners have been flexible, allowing me to work around classes or Max's daycare. "Oh! I caught another couple having sex in the back corner." Paula giggles. "What did you do?" "Oh, I just let them finish and then when they walked back out I told them they'd better at least buy something. They were so embarrassed they just grabbed five copies of The Corrections and handed me a credit card." "Speaking of...how are things with Dan?" Paula asks. "Mama! Down!" Max demands, and I set him on the floor. He's off and running, and I turn to watch him in the living room. "Don't kill me...I broke things off," I tell her. "But he was great!" "He is great, for someone else. I just didn’t feel the spark." "And you never will, if you're always comparing men to—" "I know, I know." "You should come on this yoga retreat with me!" Paula enthuses. "I'll think about it," I tell her. I glance at Max. "Does he look at all like my mom?"

"Oh, yeah," Paula nods. "Around the mouth in particular. But then again, so do you." "He has Hunter's eyes." Paula wraps her arms around my shoulders, but doesn't say anything. I watch Max pick up the TV remote. He doesn't quite understand how to use it, but he's giving it his best shot. "Max, remember, you have to ask to use the TV," I tell him. "Football time!" he reminds me. I smile. "I almost forgot. Today's Sunday, isn't it?" I head into the living room and take the remote from him, clicking through the channels until I find the Tennessee game. Max caught me watching football one day and was immediately entranced. I can feel my heart constrict at the expression on my young son's face every time he watches. His eyes light up, and I can imagine that Hunter was the same way when he was little. Max is especially excited when his favorite player, Hunter Phillips, comes on the screen. He doesn't know that Hunter is his father, and I have no idea when or how I'll tell him, but the starting quarterback for the Tennessee Titans is the tops as far as he's concerned. And it's not just Max. Hunter has been one of the best quarterbacks in the league since he took over the starting position three years ago. The only thing that could cement his status further would be winning the Super Bowl. The Titans came close last year, but lost in the AFC championship. I sit down next to Max, who leans his sweet little head into my arm. He claps as the Titans offense takes the field, and I zero in on Hunter's face as he calls an audible. He's so commanding, so sure of himself. I've heard the announcers talk about how the mentorship of Coach Lou McKay has been so important to him, and instrumental in his play, but that's the extent of what I know. My father has refused to speak to me ever since I left for Oregon and my supposedly off-the-wall Aunt Paula. I sent him an email and a letter telling him that I'd had a son, though omitting the name of his father. I never heard back. "Can I have, Mama?" Max asks, pointing at the TV as it shows images of the fans wearing Titans gear. "What, Max?" "Blue shirt." "Jersey. They call what the players wear jerseys," I tell him. "Jerseys," he repeats, nodding thoughtfully. "Like Hunter wears." The thought of my son in his father's jersey is too much for me to bear. "We'll see, honey." "For my birthday," Max suggests, looking up at me pleadingly. "That's not for a while," I tell him with a laugh. "Birthdays are only once a year, and yours is in June." "Mmph," he grunts unhappily, though his mood turns quickly as Hunter completes a long pass. "Here you go, darlings," Paula says, pushing a bowl of baby carrots toward us as she sits in the old armchair next to the couch. "Thank god he wasn't a baseball player," she says, shaking her head at the

screen. "They play so many more games." I smile at her. "Thanks for putting up with it." Paula isn't exactly a football fan, but she knows Max loves them, and I love to feel connected in some way to Hunter, so she doesn't say anything when we put the games on. "What did that say?" Paula asks, sounding alarmed. "What? Where?" I frown, confused. "At the bottom of the screen," she murmurs. "I thought it said something about your father." "Really?" I ask, squinting at the tiny type on the scrolling sports updates. "Wait until it comes around again," she says, shifting in her chair to sit closer. We sit in silence for a minute as the scores of other games and an update on an injured player scroll by. "There!" she points, then moves her hand to her mouth as she gasps. My stomach drops as I read what she saw: Vanover Coach Lou McKay missing home game due to stroke—still in critical condition. "Mama?" Max asks, tugging at the sleeve of my t-shirt. He can feel how the energy in the room shifted, and he's worried. "It's okay, honey," I tell him, pulling him onto my lap so that he can't see the tear that just slipped down my cheek. "I have to call someone. What if he—" "He's a strong man," Paula tells me. "Don't count him out just yet."



Chapter 24 Hunter They waited to tell me until I came off the field. I can't blame them. They didn't want to mess with my head. I have security escort me to my car as quickly as possible. I didn't even bother showering. When I show up in the emergency room, they look at me in awe, and don't even ask me to identify myself before telling me where Coach's room is. There are certainly some perks to being a celebrity. I slowly press open the door to his room. He's hooked up to half a dozen machines, and it's painful to see such an intimidating man look so pale and drawn under his white hospital sheets. I step back out as a doctor approaches down the hallway, clearly alerted to my presence. "He's stable now," he tells me. "He might have to have a bit of physical therapy to regain full control over his right side, but we're very optimistic." "Well, he's a tough son of a bitch," I say with a grim smile. "I don't suppose—" he begins, sounding suddenly shy. "No problem," I tell him. I recognize that tone of voice. It comes right before they ask for an autograph. He holds out a notepad and I scrawl my name, then head back inside Coach's room. I pull out a chair and sit next to him, studying the machines as though I have any idea what they mean. I look down at him. His hair is much grayer than when I first met him. When Britt left, it really took a toll. On both of us. In our grief, mine secret, his restrained, we grew closer. He had a hole in his heart where his child used to be, and I was floundering. I needed guidance, and he stepped up. We've leaned on each other ever since, though I never came clean about my relationship with his daughter. It clearly never mattered much to her, so why should I let it ruin my relationship with her father? I lean closer when I see his nose twitch. His left eye opens and he stares at me. "You stink," he grunts. I smile. "That's true, Coach. I was in a bit of a hurry to get here." "You talk to the doctors?" "Yup. They said you'll be fine. Might need a little physical therapy." "All I remember is feeling strange in the pre-game meeting," Coach tells me, closing his eyes again. "And I thought, this is it. I'm done for." He takes a few deep breaths. "And I also thought, why am I such a stubborn old fool?" "You're not a—" I frown. "I am. I should have reached out to my daughter before." I grow silent. "I've never even met my grandson." I feel like a bolt of lightning hits my chest. A grandson? I mean, I knew Britt would move on,

but I hadn't pictured her with a kid already, though I guess it's been four years now. "She's married?" I ask, my skin prickling. "Don't think so," he tells me. "Just some guy out there, I guess. I can't pretend I understand her choices, but then again, it's not my place to judge." "I've never heard you talk like this before." "Well, a near death experience will do that to you," he says. "I've gotta at least make peace. My phone in here?" he opens his eyes, and stiffly moves his head around. "What, now? You're going to call her now?" I ask, feeling alarmed. "Why not? Life's precious, it seems. Check my pants pocket," he instructs me. I stand and head over to the neat pile of his clothes on the chair in the corner. His phone is indeed in his pocket, and I walk back over and hand it to him. He reaches up with his right hand, and frowns. "Dial it for me, will you? My hand doesn't seem to be working right." "Ah, okay," I say, my heart beginning to pound in my chest. I know Britt changed her number, but it seems she gave the new one to her father. "Search my emails. She always sent it to me, but I never saved it." I nod, and search "Britt" in his inbox. The screen fills up with messages from her, and I feel a pang of jealousy. She never tried to get in touch with me. I click one open and scroll quickly through, feeling like I'm intruding. There, at the bottom. I click the number and it automatically calls. I quickly put the phone under Coach's ear. "It's ringing. I'll check back in later," I tell him quickly as I walk out the door. I can't be in the room when Coach is talking to her, not that he'd want me to be. I pull out my own phone and scroll through the contacts. I'll get over this situation the same way I get over everything: women. Lots of them. My fingers stop scrolling when they come to Allyson Anders. She's a country music star and we've been hooking up on and off for several months. I don't want to get into anything serious, and her breasts are fake as hell, but I can't deny that she's absolutely insane in bed. Like certifiable, in a fun way. If she's in town, she'd be the perfect person to snap me out of this funk. I dial her up. "Allyson," I say as she picks up. "Meet me at my house in an hour?"



Chapter 25 Britt "Oh my gosh! You've gotten so big!" Danielle exclaims, picking up Max with a grunt. "Aunt Danielle, want to see my racecars?" Max offers. Danielle came out to visit us in Oregon several times, even as she graduated from Vanover and got a teaching job here in Nashville, so Max is quite familiar with her. "I do, but first I want to talk to your mom, okay?" "Okay, after," Max replies reasonably, and Danielle sets him down and he runs off to the corner of the yard with his toys. "I'm so glad you and your dad made up," she says, sitting down across from me at the old picnic table in my dad's backyard. "Me too," I reply. "He says the stroke made him see things differently. Not that he really wants to rehash the past, but he says he wants to move forward with me in his life." "So Max's father is…" "Some guy in Oregon that it didn't really work out with," I tell her. "I've been pretty fuzzy on the timeline, so I guess it's good that he'd rather just focus on the future." "Are you staying for a while? I'd love to get to spend some time with you both." "Actually, my dad was really proud to hear that I'd graduated with my degree in psychology, and when I told him I'd love to get my Ph.D., he floated the idea of him paying for it. Vanover has a great program, so Max and I could stay in the area and he could get to know his grandson." Danielle's jaw drops, but I can tell she's trying not to get too excited. "That sounds...neat." "It does. I just don't want my Aunt Paula to feel hurt, after all the help she's given us. I'm going to talk to her tonight about it." "So you might be moving back to Nashville. This is a pretty small city, you know," Danielle says meaningfully. "And your dad and Hunter are close now, right?" "They are. We're bound to run into each other at some point," I say, feeling nerves rise up inside me. Danielle's face grows a bit more serious. "Do you know who Allyson Anders is?" "Um, a country singer, right? I think I've heard some of her songs on the radio," I reply, confused by the change in topic. "Yeah, a country singer. She's got a squeaky clean image, or at least she did before last week when she got a DUI and then also tested positive for cocaine." "Yikes, that's...unfortunate, I guess. So why are you telling me this?"

Danielle takes a deep breath, then leans into her tote bag and takes out a copy of Us Weekly. I stare at the cover photo of Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt, and look up at Danielle in confusion. She reaches over and points to the side panel, at the picture in the bottom right corner. I feel a pang in my chest as I see a picture of Hunter next to a curvy blonde. The caption reads "Country Singer and Star QB Engaged!". "Ah," I murmur. "So that's that, then. I guess I missed my chance." I feel tears spring to my eyes and swallow quickly to press down a cry. I don't want Max worrying about me. "I'm sorry," Danielle says. "I can't deny it's bad news, but maybe it's not the end. There's no way she's right for him." "You've never even met her," I point out. "But I know you, and I knew Hunter. You guys really had something special. Something I still haven't found for myself. And there's Max. You'll always be bound together." "Hunter could be a completely different person now. And if he's happy with Allyson Anders, then I'm not going to arrive on the scene and bust everything up for him by announcing that he's Max's father. I already hurt him enough before." "But you'll still have to see him." "I'll be friendly and polite, and otherwise just avoid him as much as possible. It was a college relationship, and it was years ago. Maybe now I'll finally be able to move on."



Chapter 26 Hunter "Allyson, what the fuck?" I yell, storming back into my bedroom. Allyson lays naked on my bed, her head on my pillow and her blonde hair a mess. She looks up blearily at me. "Not so loud," she complains. She showed up last night at my house absolutely out of her mind on coke so she must be nursing a pretty wicked hangover. Not that I care at all how she's feeling right now. "Why did my agent call me to congratulate me on my engagement!" I fume, yanking the sheet off her. "I'm sorry, okay? I was going to tell you last night, but I was afraid you'd be mad." "Damn straight I'm mad! What the hell were you thinking? We're not engaged! We're not even exclusive!" "Stop yelling, okay? My manager and publicist were freaking out because sponsors were threatening to back out of my tour this summer because of the whole DUI thing, and they needed a positive story to make it go away. So I maybe told them that you popped the question. Everyone loves a love story," she says, with a pleading smile. "No. Absolutely not." I pick up her cell phone, bedazzled with a silver cross on it, from the bedside table and toss it to her. "Call your publicist and fix it." Her eyes well up with tears. "Please, Hunter, if this tour doesn't do well, my career could be over. There are so many other girls just trying to take my spot, you have no idea of the pressure!" "I know pressure. I have three hundred pound linebackers trying to take me out every week. And I have never made up an engagement." "That's because you're so good, and honest, and kind," she says, tears spilling down her cheeks as she tries to butter me up. She slides over to me, making sure her naked breasts are well displayed. "You're asking me to lie. To everyone." "Only for a little! Just to take the heat off this DUI story. Two months, tops." "Two months?!" "One month. And then I'll put out a story about how amazing you are but you just care too much about the game to focus on a relationship right now. People will love that. We'll both look great. This could help you with endorsements and stuff!" "I'm doing just fine." She bursts into tears anew. "Please, Hunter, I'm begging you. I know this has always been a casual thing but I can tell you're a decent man. Please, please…" she trails off into sobs. Shit. I can feel myself wanting to help her, and I can already see what a pain in the ass this is going to

be. "One month exactly," I tell her firmly. "Oh, thank you!" she says, springing up and wrapping her arms around my neck. "Wait," I tell her, holding up my hand. "I'm not promising to be exclusive. We are in no way in a real relationship." "Right, totally! But for it to work, for there to be any point to this, you have to be really secretive when you sleep with other women. Otherwise, the press will just call you a cheater and that will be bad publicity for you." "Good point. And when you put out your press release about the break up, I better come off positively glowing." "Of course! Don't worry about that." She squeals and claps her hands together. "I'll take care of a ring, and maybe I'll even get some of my girlfriends to go to a bridal salon with me. That would make for some great paparazzi photos." I roll my eyes. "Jesus." "And in the meantime, if there's absolutely anything I can do for you, just let me know. And I do mean anything." "You were pretty much up for anything before," I tell her with a raised eyebrow. Her full lips curl up into a smile. "You haven't seen anything yet," she says, reaching for the zipper of my jeans.



Chapter 27 Britt I watch Max play in the corner of the room with a set of multi-colored blocks. My father sits next to me on the couch. He's regained control of his right side, though he says he still feels some numbness now and then and he tires easily. "Aunt Paula is really supportive of me moving back here," I tell him, keeping my voice low. "Well, of course," my dad replies. "Not of course, dad," I tell him gently. "She helped me raise Max, and now I'm leaving. Max will really miss her, and she'll miss him." "Hm," my dad grunts shortly. "I think you should give her another chance. You're giving me one, and I really don't know what I would have done without her help. She was...she was like a mom to me. I don't know what you think she's doing out in Oregon, but I promise that she's really a good, kind person, not some drug-crazed hippie or something." There's a long pause. "I'll think about it," my father says. A car door closes out front and I hear footfalls on the steps. "You expecting someone?" I ask. "Former player of mine. Needs some advice." I jump up, then turn to fluff the couch pillows behind me as though that's what I intended to do. "Oh? Who's that?" "Hunter Phillips. Plays for the Titans now," he says. I step toward the door, wondering if I should open it as I hear movement just outside it, but then the knob turns and the door starts to open. I guess Hunter and my father really are on close terms, if he just walks in like that. I stand frozen in the middle of the room. The door opens as if in slow motion and my heart races. Hunter walks in, nearly filling up the doorframe as he passes through, and I have to force myself to breathe so that I don't topple right over. Has he gotten taller? Can't be. His shoulders…they're wider. He's even more muscular than he was before. He stops and stares at me, looking dumbfounded. "I didn't know you were here," he blurts out. "Yes. Hello," I reply dumbly. "I mean, Coach mentioned his daughter was coming to town but I didn't realize you were already here," he clarifies, blinking, and then looking down at the floor for a moment. "I'm here," I reply, trying to take in every detail of his face. His eyes are exactly the same. His

cheekbones are a bit more defined, and his light brown stubble is longer than he let it get in college. He looks up at me with his sharp brown eyes, and it's my turn to look down at the floor. "I'm Hunter," he says, walking toward me and extending his hand. I take it, and feel the same kneeweakening heat I felt four years ago. "I don't know if you remember, but we had dinner here once." "That's right," my father says. "I forgot you'd met. That time is a bit of a blur for me." I know he's talking about the time around when I left, and there's an awkward pause. The sound of a dropping block from the corner breaks the silence. My head swivels to my son. Our son. Oh, boy. This is not going according to plan. Max is gaping up at Hunter, his little hand outstretched as he clearly just dropped his toy upon realizing his favorite football player is standing just steps away from him. I grin at him, my overwhelming feelings at seeing Hunter taking a slight breather. "This is my son, Max. He's a big fan," I tell Hunter, who is staring at him with an odd expression on his face. "Hunter?" Max says, taking a small step forward. "From football?" The expression on Hunter's face is replaced by a smile. Max has that effect on people. "Yeah, from football," Hunter says, walking across the room and kneeling in front of Max, though he still towers over him. "Wow," Max says, his eyes bugging out of his head. He reaches forward and places his hands on Hunter's legs. Toddlers don't really understand boundaries. "You really good. Best." "Thanks, Max. Do you like to play football, too?" "Yeah," Max replies, nodding his little head emphatically. I glance between the two of them. Father and son, interacting so naturally. I take a deep breath to keep a grip on my emotions. They don't look so similar that anyone could tell, right? "Well, I need to go talk to your grandpa, okay Max?" "You play later?" Max asks. "I think Hunter might be busy, honey," I jump in, not wanting Hunter to feel like he's obligated. "You don't have to," I tell him. "Maybe that's best," Hunter says, his expression becoming more guarded again. He stands up. "I'll take Max out back so you two can talk," I tell them. Max begins to sniffle in protest, so I hurriedly scoop him up. I know that once he sees his toys in the backward he'll get distracted and his mood will pass. I wish mine would so easily. At least all that Max wants from me is to toss the little foam football back and forth with him. He doesn't have the hand eye coordination to catch yet, but he has a strong arm, and he gives catching his best shot, opening his arms wide and closing them at just the wrong time. I need to put Hunter behind me. He's engaged now, and I'm no homewrecker.



Chapter 28 Hunter I watch them from the window in the dining room. Coach said he needed to take a nap, and I know I should just leave. I know I should, but here I am, staring at Britt and her son as she tosses a ball back and forth with him. A combination of resentment and longing stirs up inside me. She left me high and dry with no explanation except that she needed to see more of the world, and now it turns out all she did was go to Oregon and get knocked up. It's not that I want her anymore, it's just that I never had any real closure. My feet take me to the back door, and I walk outside. "Yay!" Max exclaims as he sees me. I clap my hands together. "Right here, buddy!" He grins and throws the ball as hard as he can. I have to reach up to grab it. "You've got a cannon!" "Cannon!" Max repeats happily. "That means you have a strong arm," Britt fills him in. "Yeah!" Max agrees, and holds out his arms for the ball. I toss it back lightly, but he seems like he hasn't gotten the hang of catching yet. "Maybe he's not a receiver," Britt says with a smile. I glance at her out of the corner of my eye. She still looks exactly the same. Maybe her hips are a little wider. Her hair is a bit shorter, just below her shoulders, and some of the curl seems to have straightened out. Those raspberry lips are the same though, and the blue eyes are just as arresting. "Your dad says you were in Oregon?" Britt nods. "With my aunt. My mom's sister." "Oregon is where you had to go?" I ask, a slight hint of bitterness tinging my voice. Britt pauses, looking upset. "I...yes," she finally says. "I never got a chance to say in person...I am sorry for leaving like that, Hunter. The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you. I hope you believe that." "It was years ago. Water under the bridge," I say with a shrug even as my chest hurts with that familiar pain that stayed for months after she left. "Good," she replies. "And congratulations." "Thanks," I reply automatically. "Wait, for what?" "Your engagement. She has a beautiful voice," Britt says, catching the ball that Max just threw at her. "Oh, yeah. Yeah, she does," I reply. Sometimes Allyson plays her songs after we've fucked. It's not my kind of music, but she does have a killer voice. "Thanks."

"Have you set a date?" "Not yet," I reply. It would probably be safe for me to set Britt straight, it's not like she has media connections, but there is something satisfying about the woman who broke my heart thinking I'm engaged to a hot celebrity. I know it's kind of fucked up, but I'm not a perfect person. Max runs for a ball that got behind him and trips. Suddenly an ear-splitting wail fills the air. Britt runs toward him, and I follow. "You okay, honey?" Britt asks, turning him over. There's a bleeding cut on his little knee from a rock in the grass. "Ouch!" She scoops him up and cradles him in her arms. I feel a strange sense of panic at the sound of his cries. "Let's get you cleaned up." Not knowing what else to do, I follow her into the house. She takes him into the kitchen and sets him on the counter, then keeping one hand on his shoulder, she reaches into a cabinet above the sink for a box of Band-Aids and some disinfectant. I bounce from foot to foot, feeling useless. "Anything I can do?" I offer. "Grab me a paper towel. Maybe put a little water on it," she says with a smile. How is she so calm? I dampen a paper towel and hand it to her. She gently cleans the blood off his shin, and then dabs the wound itself. "Another one?" I hand her a dry paper towel and she puts the disinfectant on it, then gently touches the cut with it. "Almost done, Max," she tells him soothingly. She opens the Band-Aid, and in one smooth motions, fixes it over his cut. "There, see?" she says, pointing to it. He glances down but doesn't stop crying. "He likes the ones with Spiderman on it, but my dad doesn't have those," she tells me. She leans forward and picks Max up, rubbing his back with her palm. His sniffles lessen, but don't completely subside. "Max, you want to play catch some more?" I ask. He shakes his head no, and rubs his dripping nose with his hand. "You want to...come see a game?" That gets his attention. "Football game?" he asks, his voice trembling. "Yeah, a football game that I'm playing in. Have you ever seen a football game in person?" He shakes his head no, his tears finally letting up. "You haven't? Well, if your mom says it's okay, you can come on Sunday. We have a home game; I'll get you box seats," I add to Britt. "Mama? Please?" Max asks his mother. "How could I say no?" she asks, smiling a little ruefully. "Thanks," she adds in a whisper. We stand there for a moment, and I feel the heat of her body as she stands just six inches away. There's so much I want to ask her, so much more to say. Maybe too much. I don't know where to start. "He's a good kid," I finally say. She smiles, and I feel like I'm back in college again.



Chapter 29 Britt I glance in the rearview mirror at Max in his car seat. He's wearing Hunter's jersey. My dad didn't feel up to coming to the game, but he bought Max the jersey because he knew he'd love it, and he didn't know how much it would make my heart ache to see him in it. I park in the lot, and soon I'm carrying Max against my hip as we rise up the special elevator to Hunter's box. I show my VIP tickets to the security guard, and he lets us in. There are a few other people milling around, drinking champagne and helping themselves to the buffet. I glance down toward the field. There are a few minutes left until kickoff, so I bring Max over to the food and put together a little plate of food for him. I walk out and sit in the front row of the box's open air seats. It's Max's first game, so he should be able to smell the grass and feel the excitement in the air. He leans over, and I maintain a tight grip on him as he claps his hands together with happiness. "Hey, I'm Rich Nielsen, Hunter Phillip's agent. I don't think I've seen you around before." A handsome man in his forties sits down next to me. I smile a little at the meaning implicit in his words. I guess Hunter gives a lot of women VIP tickets, though I bet none of them have brought a kid before. "Britt McKay," I introduce myself, then, feeling like I owe him some explanation for why I'm here, add, "I'm Coach Lou McKay's daughter." "I was so sorry to hear about the stroke. How is he?" Rich asks sympathetically. "He's doing well, thanks. He'll only need a little more physical therapy and then he's back to normal." "Any underlying cause?" "They're not sure. My dad's not too worried, though. He says he could always get hit by a truck tomorrow anyway." Rich smiles. "That squares with the Lou McKay I've heard about. Hunter says he's been of great help to him in getting over this hump." "What hump?" I ask. "His numbers are great." "Sorry, I figured you guys were close or something. He says he doesn't feel the same passion he used to. Says his teammates have started calling him the Machine because he plays with so little emotion." "Huh. Well, I haven't seen him play up close since college, but he certainly had passion then." "You went to college together?" Rich asks, his eyes sharpening slightly. "Just for a little. I just knew him because he was on my dad's team," I explain. The teams take the field, cutting short our conversation.

"What's that?" Max says, pointing to the small group in the middle of the field. "That's the coin toss. They do it to see who will get the ball first, the Titans or the Texans. There, see? Hunter won, so now he gets to throw the ball first." "Yeah, Hunter!" Max cheers. "This is Max, by the way," I tell Rich. "Hey, Max," Rich says. "This your first game?" "I see lots of games," Max replies. "But that was on TV, Max," I remind him. "This is his first game in person. We just moved to town," I explain to Rich. The game gets underway, and Hunter seems to be playing great from where I'm sitting. The second quarter has just started when a commotion at the door causes everyone to look around. "I don't need a ticket!" a young woman's voice says from the front door. "I'm Hunter Phillips' fiancé!" "Excuse me," Rich says, and heads for the door. I watch his back as the voices quiet, and soon the door opens and he escorts in a beautiful young woman: Allyson Anders. I recognize her from the picture on the magazine, and her voice has that same raspy musicality from her songs. She glares at me as she sees me watching her, but I see Rich whispering in her ear, and her expression softens slightly. I'm sure he was explaining that I'm not some woman Hunter's hooking up with, though I'm guessing the truth would upset her far more. I lean forward to brush a kiss on the back of Max's head. He's blonde like his father, though a lighter shade that I'm guessing will darken over time. I suppose I'm lucky that he doesn't look overwhelmingly like his dad. He does have his father's eyes, but my mouth and nose, and the round cheeks of a toddler that will obscure his face shape for a while. I turn my head as Allyson walks outside and sits two seats down from me. I give her a friendly smile. It didn't sound like she was being very polite to the security guard, but there could always be extenuating circumstances. And if Hunter is marrying her, then she must be a good person. "I'm Britt, and this is my son Max," I say. "Rich says you're family friends with Hunter or something?" she replies, arching a well-groomed eyebrow. "Sort of. I'm Lou McKay's daughter." Her face looks blank, so I explain further. "His coach from college, sort of his mentor now." "Right," she nods, though it seemed like she's never heard of him, which is surprising considering how big a part of his life he's been. We watch the rest of the quarter in silence, punctuated by the sounds of Max cheering for Hunter. I grin as I watch him down on the field. I feel just like I did in college when I got to see his home games, except for the kid moving around on my lap. Hunter might be taken by the woman to my left, and I would never do anything to jeopardize their relationship, but I can't change the way I feel.

When the halftime show starts, I take Max back inside to the restroom, and then to the buffet table again. I make him try the ranch dressing with a baby carrot before putting a generous dollop on his plate. Sometimes his eyes are bigger than his stomach, and he forgets what kinds of food he likes. I take him back to our seats. Allyson is texting on her phone, and I carefully step over her legs, then put Max on the ground and hand him his little plate of food. He munches happily on a carrot as he watches the cheerleaders and begins to wiggle his body. Suddenly, I hear a gasp. "Uh-oh," Max says. I look over, and see Allyson raising her leg. Her pretty ankle boot has ranch dressing on the toe, and Max's plate is on the ground. "I'm so sorry!" I exclaim as I jump up. "Let me get a wet napkin and we'll clean that right up. Max, say you're sorry," I instruct him. "These are suede, you little shit!" Allyson screams at him, her pretty face contorting. Max's face bunches up, and he cries. I put my arm forward and pull him behind my leg protectively. "Please don't talk to my son that way," I say as calmly as I can. "It was an accident." "These boots cost like five hundred dollars, and you're paying for them," Allyson hisses. "It's just a little spot. I'm sure I can clean them up if you give me—" "They're ruined. And you shouldn't give your little brat a plate if he can't fucking hold it," she says. "Sorry," Max sniffles behind me. "I'll make sure to get your information from Hunter and send you a check," I tell Allyson. "Come on, Max," I say, scooping him up. "We can watch the rest of the game from home." I carry him out of the box without looking back, and pull him tighter on the elevator ride down. "Sorry, Mama," he says again. "I know it was just an accident, Max," I tell him, kissing his moist little cheeks. "Don't worry about it, okay?" "She was mad," he says worriedly. "I know, but that wasn't your fault, I promise. Why don't we stop for ice cream, and we'll still have time to catch the last quarter. Sound good?" Max nods, and rests his head on my chest. I fume silently. There was no excuse for Allyson Anders to talk that way to a child. It pains me to think of Hunter with someone like that, but he's made his choice.



Chapter 30 Hunter I frown as I listen to the message again. "Hey Hunter! You were playing great, but Max and I had to head home! Thanks again for the tickets." Even after all these years, I can still hear when something is off in Britt's voice. She sounds a little too upbeat. Though I guess her life must be pretty different with a kid now, not being able to do exactly what she wants. Maybe Max was bored and wanted to leave. As I head out the player's entrance and through a phalanx of barely-restrained photographers, Allyson launches herself through the security line and into my arms. "Great win, baby!" she exclaims, and gives me a big kiss. I grit my teeth as I kiss her back, aware of all the camera flashes around us. "See, we're both getting such amazing publicity!" she says with a smile. "Mmhm," I murmur back. She grabs my hand and we walk off toward the parking lot. "Can you give me a ride? I got kinda blitzed on champagne during the game." "I thought you were in recovery," I say as I toss my duffel bag in the backseat of my black Range Rover. "Not really. That's just what my publicist had to say." "You certainly keep her busy." I start the car and head out of the parking lot. Suddenly Allyson reaches over and rubs her hand over my crotch. "You ever had road head?" "Yes," I tell her honestly. "Oh. Well, want it again?" I can't deny that my cock's starting to stiffen, but I'm exhausted from the game, and Allyson's sudden appearance rubbed me the wrong way. "Not right now," I tell her, pushing her hand away. "This is about that girl, isn't it?" "What girl?" I ask with a frown. "The one in your box during the game." "You went up to the box?" "Yeah, what am I going to do, sit in the fucking stands?" "Why would you think it's about her?" "Don't avoid the question! I could tell you guys are fucking by the way that she was looking at you." A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth, but I suppress it. "Allyson, we're not actually engaged. I can

sleep with whoever I want." I might be in this car with Allyson now, but my mind is with Britt. Does she still have feelings for me? What if Allyson's jealousy led her to see things that aren't there? "So you are sleeping with her!" Allyson snaps. "For the record, I'm not, okay?" I reply impatiently. "Honestly, that's smart of you. She's got a kid, and I could not imagine having to deal with that little brat on a regular basis." "Max? He's sweet." "Ugh, no he's not. Look what he did!" She lifts her leg and places her foot on the dashboard. I glance over at her boot as she points to it. "What?" "Right there! He spilled dressing all over it!" "I'm sure it was an accident." "That doesn't matter! And when I called him on it, that girl got all defensive. Whatever, he was being a little shit." My hands tense on the steering wheel. "You called Max a little shit?" "Um, yeah. He was being one." I feel anger roil through me and pull the car over to the side of the road. "What are you doing?" Allyson asks as I hop out and march over to the passenger side of the car. I yank open her door. "Out," I order her. "Why?" she asks suspiciously, though she complies. I take out my wallet and push a hundred-dollar bill toward her. "Call a cab. We're done," I say. "What!?" she shrieks. "I'm famous! You can't just leave me here!" I glance around at the plush neighborhood we're driving through. "I think you'll be fine. I'm pretty sure Tim McGraw and Faith Hill live right over there if you want to ring their doorbell." I get back behind the wheel as Allyson screams in frustration. As I pull the car away, she throws her pocket book and it smacks against my rear window. She actually doesn't have a bad arm. My thoughts return to Britt. I hate the way my heart leapt in my chest when Allyson said she was looking at me. The woman bashed my life on the fucking rocks. She completely disappeared. Even if she does have feelings for me and we could get back together, my dignity won't allow it. I'm an NFL quarterback, for fuck's sake.



Chapter 31 Britt "Britt, I think that stack of napkins is straight," Danielle says. I glance up and see her staring at me, and then look down at the napkins on the dining room table. I'm throwing my dad a sixtieth birthday party at the house today, and I invited a slew of his former players. Of course Hunter Phillips, dad's protégé, scored an invite. "How long have I been fiddling with these?" I ask myself. "More importantly, where'd your head go?" "I'm guessing you already know the answer to that question," I say, sitting down in a chair. "I'm guessing I do." I give a quick glance to the kitchen to make sure my dad isn't around. "It was easier when we were back in Oregon," I tell Danielle quietly. "I mean, it was tough, don't get me wrong. I ran myself ragged caring for Max and working and making sure I got my degree. And my dad offering to pay for graduate school has been a godsend. I'll be able to get my Ph.D. and become a psychologist and actually be able to provide Max with a good life…" "But…" "In Oregon it was easier to pretend like I wasn't doing something horribly wrong. Hunter has already missed out on the first three and a half years of his son's life." Tears drip down my cheeks. "The guilt is eating me up inside." Danielle takes my hand. "I can't pretend that there isn't some truth to what you're saying, but don't forget that you made the best decision you knew how to make at the time. We were only eighteen. And maybe you were right, maybe Hunter would have resented you if you told him back then. There's no way to know." "I want to tell him now, but I don't want to ruin his new life. He's engaged. He's done so well for himself." "Partly thanks to you." "Seeing how good he is with Max...I think I love him even more now than I did in college." "I think you know already what you want to do." I nod. "I have to tell him. Thanks for always telling it to me straight," I say, giving her a hug. I head to the bathroom to wash my face and reapply my makeup after ruining it with tears, and soon the guests begin to arrive. I thought Max might be overwhelmed by all the action, so I hired a sitter to take him over to her house for a while.

I keep careful tabs on my dad. His physical therapy is over now and his right side has recovered completely, but I'm worried about him getting overtired by the party. I wanted to show my gratefulness to him by throwing this celebration for him, so it's important to me that he enjoys himself. He looks like he's enjoying himself now. He's got a beer in one hand and a rib in the other, and he's talking with a few of his former assistant coaches who have since moved on. There are people from the Vanover administration here, a bunch of former players and coaches, and some people from the neighborhood. Everyone came to show support and make sure their favorite tough guy is recovering. The house is bustling, and people are spilling out into the backyard where the barbecue is set up. I hired a couple people to help out with cooking and cleanup and everything, but bought and prepared everything myself. Hunter's not the only NFL player my dad's coached. He might be the highest-profile, but there's probably a pretty solid professional team to be sourced right from this house. It's tough to see over all the tall men around, and I feel a little thrill at the sidelong glances I get from some of them. Sometimes with being a mom, I forget that I'm also a woman. The atmosphere changes a little, and I can tell without looking that Hunter's walked in. There are a couple of cheers from his old teammates, and I quickly run my hands over the white sundress I've chosen for today. I know he's off-limits, but I can't help wanting to look good when I see him. "Hey, who's that?" Danielle asks, sidling up to me. "Right there." She points without trying to be too conspicuous. "Oh, that's Hunter best friend from college. Adam Fry," I tell her, glancing over at a cute guy in a nice blazer. We never actually met, but Hunter talked about him, and as a former player for my dad, he got an invite. "He was a wide receiver, I think." "What does that mean?" she whispers. "One of the guys who catches the ball and tries to make touchdowns. I think he went pro for a couple years, but never made first-string." "Is he married? God, he's cute. You know, I think he might have been on that calendar I had." I smile at her. "So you've still got a thing for football players." "What can I say?" she says with a grin. "How do I look?" "Great. Go get him," I tell her. "Oh! It was the Bengals he played for. Maybe that's your conversation starter." I watch her sashay over, and then look around to see where Hunter's gone. I walk around the house, then spot him in the backyard. He's got a full plate of food, and is surrounded by a bunch of his old teammates. I talk with a couple partygoers in the dining room, keeping Hunter in my peripheral vision. Finally, he finishes his food and dumps his paper plate in the trash can, then heads toward the back door. I walk over to intercept him, making it look like I'm just catching him by accident. "Hey! Thanks again for those tickets," I say.

"Yep," he replies, then turns to leave. He's radiating coldness, and I'm thrown, but I know I need to press forward. "Do you think we could have lunch sometime? There's something I need to talk to you about," I ask nervously. "Sorry, I'm pretty busy," he says brusquely. He's never spoken to me like this before, even when we'd just met. "Is everything okay? Is this about Allyson's boots? I sent her a check." His eyes flash, and he leans down. I'm distracted by the heat from his body, but the anger in his eyes transfixes me. "No, it's not about some fucking boots. Did you forget how you ditched me by email? You didn't even give me the courtesy of saying it to my face and then you show up here and act like everything is fine between us. How fucking narcissistic are you, Britt?" he hisses. I reel back. "I'm sorry," I gasp, the full weight of my actions hitting me like a punch to the face. "You're right. I'm so sorry." I turn and walk away as quickly as I can through the party without attracting attention. I bite the inside of my lip hard to keep from crying, but my tears are in danger of spilling over onto my cheeks. I make it to the stairs before they do, and hurry up to my childhood bedroom. Only when I shut the door behind me do I let out a sob. I'm such an idiot. Of course Hunter hasn't forgiven me. I was naïve to think he would have when I haven't even talked with him about what happened. And worse, if he's still so mad at me, how will he ever accept Max? I sit down on my bed in defeat. The room looks completely different than when I was in college. When I left, my dad chucked out all my stuff and turned it into a guest room. The first time I saw it without all my things was pretty jarring, but I can't blame him. I pull a tissue from the bedside table and try to regain control of my breath. There's a knock at the door. "Just a second!" I call, but the door opens. Hunter stands in the doorway. I leap to my feet. "Oh, I was just, um…" I stammer. He steps in and closes the door behind him. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have talked to you like that." "I understand why you did," I tell him. He paces back and forth in front of me, his muscles rippling as he runs his hands through his short blonde hair. "I was happy to see you at first, but fuck, I'm still so fucking pissed! I can't just let it go! You destroyed me, you know that?" he asks, stopping and turning to me, his dark brown eyes full of pain and anger. "For months, food lost its taste. I couldn't sleep. My grades hit the shitter. Was it all bullshit? Did you ever care about me at all?" "I loved you," I whisper, my voice breaking. Seeing him like this is the worst pain I've ever felt. "Then how could you leave like that?" he demands. "I have thought about you every single day," I tell him, taking a step forward. "I—no, I'm sorry. I know

that you've found someone you're happy with, and I would never...all I want is for you to be happy, Hunter. That's all I've ever wanted." "Allyson and I aren't engaged," he says with a sigh. "We never really were. I just agreed to go along with it because she needed some good publicity." "What? Seriously?" I ask, my eyes widening. All of a sudden the air between us feels charged with electricity. He takes a step forward and I forget to breathe. "Britt," he murmurs, wrapping his hand around the back of my neck. I stare up at him. "You still smell the same." "You, too," I whisper. "Oh, fuck it," he grunts, and presses his lips over mine.



Chapter 32 Hunter I pull off her dress like an animal in heat. I've never felt such urgency. Four years of frustration have built up to this moment, and I'm finally touching her again. I yank the cups of her bra down and then wrap my arms around her waist and lift her up. She wraps her legs around my waist and I duck my head down, pulling her left nipple into my mouth. I suck hard on it, then give it a bite before moving to the other one. Britt's head is tilted back, and she's struggling to keep her moans quiet. I deposit her back onto the floor, and then yank down her underwear to the floor and turn her around. I pull a condom out of my back pocket, and then unzip my jeans and push them and my boxers to the floor. I don't have time for any more foreplay. Four years was foreplay enough. I roll the condom on, then press her down onto the bed. I stick two fingers into her pussy, and grunt as I feel how wet she is, so ready for me. I step forward and plunge my cock inside her. Britt buries her face into the bedspread as she lets out a scream of pleasure. I thrust inside her again. I move faster and harder. As I look down at her, taking all of my cock inside her, I feel all the pain and frustration and anger I felt when she left, and at the same time, how good it feels to be inside her again. I plunge a finger inside her ass, and she gasps. She's mine again, and I want her to fucking know it. I slide my other hand under her and flick her clit back and forth. Her muscles against my cock begin to twitch and I know she's close. Suddenly, I pull out of her and step back. She turns over and stares up at me, hurt and frustrated. Maybe it makes me a sadist, but it feels good to have turned the tables on her, to have her be the one left wanting. "Please, Hunter," she begs me, and kneels on the side of the bed. I look down at her, and wrap my hand in the back of her hair. "Am I the best you've ever had?" "God, yes," she breathes. I slip one finger over her clit. Her entire body twitches. "Lie face down on the bed, with your hands over your head," I tell her. She obeys without hesitation. I stare at her for a moment, her body naked except for her bra. She looks the exactly the same as she did in college. My feelings jump back and forth. I'm still so angry at her for leaving, and part of me just wants to leave her naked here on the bed, completely sexually frustrated. But I've tried with all the women I've fucked since her to pretend that it was just as good, and now I know I've been lying to myself. There's always been something different about sex with Britt.

I crawl onto the bed from the foot, and glide my hand over her ass. She stays completely still. I slowly press myself down on top of her, and hold her wrists together above her head with one hand. "Spread your legs," I order her. She moves them apart, and I position myself at her opening. I move a little slower this time, even though she's clearly ready to come at my first thrust. Once I'm inside her, she closes her legs tightly, and I move my legs out wider and get some traction on the bed. Now I can really let loose. I can hear how hard she's struggling to stay quiet as I fuck her. Her pussy is as tight as it ever was, and I grit my teeth to keep myself from coming. I want to feel her around my cock for as long as possible while I fuck her as hard as I can. Finally, though, I can't restrain myself any longer, and I release myself inside her as I bury my face in her hair. After a minute, I lean back up, and then let myself collapse on the bed next to her. She slowly turns over, and wipes the sweat from her brow. A feeling of guilt overtakes me as I glance over at her profile. "I hope I wasn't too rough," I tell her. "No," she tells me, turning over onto her side and facing me. "I felt like we both needed to work some stuff out," she adds with a shy smile, then glances nervously at the door. "I should probably get back to the party before anyone notices I'm gone, but are you free for lunch tomorrow?" "Sure," I tell her. We both get up and start putting our clothes back on. "It felt the same, didn't it?" she suddenly asks. "I mean, the same, but different. Or—" "No, I know what you mean," I tell her. She's just running her fingers through her hair when the door bursts open. Adam and Danielle stand giggling in the doorway, but freeze when they see Britt and me. Adam looks confused, while Danielle glances between us and puts together what just happened in an instant. "Um, hey Britt," she says. "I was just wondering if…ah…if I could get your help with something downstairs?" "Sure," Britt tells her with a knowing smile, and follows her out. Adam frowns at me. "Wait, what's going on?" "I'll explain later," I tell him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and pulling him back toward the party. "So you and Danielle, huh? She always did have a thing for football players."



Chapter 33 Britt My stomach is a ball of anxiety as I sit waiting for Hunter. He chose a restaurant called Tin Roof, because he knows the owners and they never tell the paparazzi he's there. He was always well-known in college, but it must be crazy for him to have to deal with this level of fame. I park in the lot behind the restaurant, and inside, the hostess shows me to a table in a dark corner where Hunter can sit without drawing too much attention to himself. I question again whether I've done the right thing by asking him to a public place, but my dad is home, and I would have felt odd inviting myself over to his place. Which is probably some huge mansion, now that I think about it. When he arrives a few minutes after I sat down, I've ripped up my napkin into a hundred pieces and left it in a pile on the table. I watch him as he walks toward me, and feel the familiar but exciting butterflies in my stomach, coupled with a fear over how he'll take the news I'm about to deliver. He sits down, and I realize how futile it was for me to ever try to move on from him. He'll always be the sexiest, most magnetic man I've ever met. He reaches across the table and takes my hand, gently rubbing his thumb across my palm. "It's good to see you," he says. "I enjoyed yesterday," he adds with a twinkle in his eye. "Me, too," I whisper. There's nothing more I'd rather do than sit here with him holding my hand, but I have to get to why I asked him here. "Hunter, I—" A waitress walks over and hands us our menus. "Welcome back, Mr. Phillips," she says with a blush. No one is immune to Hunter's charms. "I'll come back in a few minutes for your orders." "Everything here is good," Hunter tells me, picking up the menu, but I press it back down on the table. He looks up at me questioningly. "Wait. If I don't tell you something now, I never will," I say. My heartbeat spikes, and I feel a trickle of sweat run down my forehead. "You okay?" "Yeah, just nervous." I take a deep breath, but it does nothing. "I want to tell you the real reason I left." Hunter shifts slightly in the booth, and his face grows serious. "I told you I needed to see more of the world, but that was I lie. It was because...it was because I was pregnant." "Oh my god," he murmurs. "You were pregnant...you were pregnant and it was…it was mine?" Pain, anger, and confusion flash over his face.

"Yes," I reply. I wait for him to put the pieces together, but he looks too stunned. "Hunter...it's Max." "Max…" "Max is your son." "Max is my son? I don't understand. I don't understand what you're telling me," he says, his voice rising a little. "I left because I was pregnant, and I knew that if my dad found out, he'd ruin your chances of being in the NFL. I didn't want to be the reason you didn't get to fulfill your dream." "I can't believe you didn't tell me." "I knew that if I did, you would stick by me, but then I was worried that you'd end up resenting me, and Max. We'd become the thing that had stopped you. And then when I got back into town and you were engaged, I didn't want to ruin what you had." My voice breaks, but I fight to keep going. "I'm not saying that what I did was right, but I thought at the time it was. I was so emotional, and my hormones were going crazy, and I was only eighteen. I'm so sorry, Hunter. I understand if you never want to speak to me again. But I thought you should know that Max is your son." "My son…" he repeats. "And you can have whatever kind of relationship with him that you want. No pressure. I'm not here to ask you for anything. You can see him as much or as little as you want to." "Can I see him now?" "Now?" "Yeah," he replies, nodding. "Sure." The waitress is already walking back over, so I grab my purse. "Sorry, it turns out we aren't staying," I tell her. Hunter follows me silently to the parking lot. "He's at his babysitter's, so why don't you follow me over there and we can pick him up?" He nods, and I try to read his expression, but he's stone-faced. I'm not sure exactly why he wants to see Max so immediately, but I figure I owe it to him to do what he wants. I get in my car, and Hunter follows me in his black SUV over to my babysitter's modest house. I park and hop out, then walk over to Hunter's window. "I'll go get him, okay? And, you know, don't say anything to him yet. We would need to tell my dad before we tell Max, because Max doesn't know how to keep secrets." Hunter nods, and I head to the babysitter's door. As she opens it, Max runs to the door and flings himself into my arms. Between last night's party and today, he's spent a little more time at the babysitter's than he's used to, so he's definitely missing me. I hug him tightly against me as I head back toward the car. Hunter steps out of his car, and walks around the front. I put Max on the ground, and he turns and sees Hunter. "Hunter!" he yells, and takes off toward him. Hunter kneels down and accepts Max's hug, then stands and lifts him up with him.

"Did you have fun at the babysitter's?" Hunter asks. "Yeah, Macy was there," Max says. "Macy is her dog," I explain. "So you like animals?" Hunter asks. "Yeah!" Max yells excitedly. "Me, too," Hunter says. "I better go, okay Max? I have to go practice so I can play well." "Okay," Max says. "You want to play catch?" he asks, not quite understanding. "Not right now," Hunter says, putting him back on the ground. "But later." He starts to walk back to his car, then turns back to me. "I just need some time," he says. I watch him start his car and drive off as Max hugs my leg. I think we're both feeling confused by his abrupt appearance. Will he ever be able to forgive me for keeping his son a secret?



Chapter 34 Hunter I scan down field for an open receiver, but the coverage is tight. I'm not known as a running quarterback, but I see an opening between two giant Patriot linemen and dart through it. One of them dives after my foot and almost trips me up, but I shake him off. In my peripheral vision, I can see another dark blue uniform headed toward me, and I fake left and spin right. The end zone is ten yards away, but just as I reach the five yard-line, I feel a hit on my back, like someone tossed a sack of wet flour on me. I reach out my arms as far as they'll go on my way down, and hear the whistle. As the defender gets off me, I glance up and hear the roar of the crowd and the referee signaling with his hands in the air. I just made it in. I jump up, feeling energy course through me despite the rough hit I just took. As my teammates rush toward me, I jump up and pump my fist. It's not even close to breaking the celebration rules, but for me, it's a lot. Back in the locker room after the game, as my teammates celebrate the win around me, I realize I haven't felt this kind of joy in a long time. I smile, and grab a bottle of champagne being handed around. My teammates cheer. Usually I just shower, grab a girl, and head home. They've never really seen me let loose. I hang with my teammates for a while, enjoying the camaraderie, and then we finally make our way out of the locker room. There are a ton of girls waiting for us. Security always lets in the hottest of our female fans. I scan their eager faces, knowing I could take any one of them home, but I keep walking. As I drive home, I wonder about the change I'm feeling, and I know there could only be one explanation. After Britt left, I could feel my heart ice over. I started playing with precision, as always, but no passion. With Coach McKay's guidance, I still reached out to younger players, still gave the inspiring speeches and help when they needed it, but I was at a remove. I heard someone say once that you can't block out one emotion without others being blocked, too. Maybe that's sort of what happened to me. But now that I know why she left, that our relationship wasn't just something that she casually threw away, it's like I can finally open back up again. I haven't talked to her in two weeks. I wanted to see Max, and see if I'd be able to just accept a kid I've never known as my own. And as soon as I picked him up, I knew I could. I feel a connection to him. But there are so many other concerns. For one, my relationship with his mom. Being with her the other week felt like a homecoming, but won't it be different now that we have a kid? I mean, what are the

logistics here? Are we talking about just dating each other? We have a kid together already, so that just seems fucking weird. I've zoned out in my thoughts, and as I look around, I realize that I've already changed direction and am now headed over to Britt's house. I shake my head at myself. I guess my intuition is already making up my mind for me. I pull up outside her house, Coach's house, and take out my phone. I know it's late, but I text her. Can you meet me? I hold my phone in my hand, waiting. Where? She texts back a minute later. In my car. I'm outside. I see a lamp go on in the corner guest room, and soon the front door opens quietly and Britt comes tiptoeing out. She's wearing a thin, white robe, and she almost glows in the light of the full moon. As she nears the car, I reach over and push open the passenger side door. She climbs up and in and quietly shuts the door behind her. I smile at her in the grey light, and watch her tentatively smile back. I reach my hand over and open it on the console. She places her small hand in mine and I grip it reassuringly. "I missed you," I tell her. "Not just these last couple weeks." "I know," she whispers back. "Me too. Almost more than I could bear." "It was special, what we had." "And I hope it still can be." "I've been worrying about what this would look like," I tell her. "I mean, there's no model for how to date the mother of the kid you never knew you had. But maybe if we decide, right now, that whatever happens, we'll get through it, then we actually will. Maybe that's a choice we can make. Does that sound naïve?" "No. It's funny, I was always the planner between us, but having a kid forced me to let go of that. I choose you, Hunter. And I choose Max."



Chapter 35 Britt "I choose you and Max," Hunter replies, his voice husky and full of emotion in the darkness. He leans forward, and our lips touch. I gasp at my body's response to him. It feels like a fire rippling across my skin as he slips his tongue against mine and our warm breath mixes. I know he feels it too, the urgency, as I slide my palm across his stubble and feel his arm around my back. Maybe someday we'll be able to take our time again, but it won't be tonight. "Move your seat back," I tell him, and he presses his legs against the floor and pushes back. He reaches back over, sliding his rough hand across my bare thigh and then up against my aching slit. A couple flicks of his fingers almost send me over the edge, but then he leans forward, and pushing my nightgown and robe up until they pool around my waist, he presses his face into me. His tongue circles my clit and I tilt my head back and spread my legs for him. The ecstasy he's creating is almost unbearable. I moan as pleasure builds up inside me, and grip the door handle as he sends me over the edge. He sits back and wipes his mouth as I gasp for air, and I quickly jump over to his seat, straddling him and pulling at his belt. I pull his cock out of his boxers and slide my hand along his length and hear him groan. I hold him in place with a hand wrapped around his base, and then lower myself down on top of him. I no longer feel any pain as he sheathes himself inside me, but his size still stretches me to the limit. "Oh, fuck, Britt," he moans, and wraps a hand around the back of my neck, hungrily pressing his tongue into my mouth. I raise myself up as our tongues dance against each other's, then lower myself down and move my hips in a circle, feeling him touch every sensitive nerve inside me. Again I raise myself up, and feel him thrust up to meet me. Again, again, again, until we're lost in each other's bodies, moving as one. We come together, and I collapse against him, feeling his chest expand and contract against mine. I tuck my head under his chin, and my eyes close. "Let’s just go to sleep here," I whisper, and feel his chest rock a little with a laugh. "Soon we'll be able to sleep in the same bed," Hunter replies, pulling my hair out of my face. "Can we tell my dad soon?" I ask. "How about tomorrow? I don't have practice." "Tomorrow? You're sure?" "I want to be able to tell Max, to have you guys over at my house…" I sit back and look at him. "You're sure you're ready for this? Having a kid around, it's different." "I think I am," he replies with a smile. I give him a quick kiss, and then drop back onto the passenger

seat and pull my robe back down. "Want to come over after lunch?" I ask. "See you then," he tells me. I hop out of the car and give him a quick wave before tiptoeing back into the house. I turn at the window next to the door, and watch him drive away. * * * The next day after lunch, I park Max upstairs in his room with Sesame Street on. If he sees Hunter arrive, he'll want to play, and that's not the reason he's coming over. Just after 2, I hear a car out front and head toward the front window. Hunter is pulling into the driveway. I sit back down on the couch next to my dad, who's watching Sports Center, while my mind races. I have no idea how my dad will react. I wonder who he'll be more upset with, me or Hunter. The door opens, and Hunter pokes his head in. "Hello?" he calls out. "Come on in, Hunter!" my dad replies, clicking off the TV. Hunter walks in, shutting the door behind him, and heads for an armchair next to the corner of the couch where I'm sitting. "You want something to drink?" my dad offers. "I'm good," Hunter says. "Actually, Dad, there's something I—we, wanted to talk to you about," I say, glancing nervously at Hunter. My dad looks between us, then smiles a little. "Are you two dating?" he asks. "What? I…" I stumble. "I'm not blind," he says. "I saw you talking at my birthday party." "You would be okay with that?" Hunter asks, sounding surprised. "Sure, you're two willing adults," my dad says. "When I was in college, you always used to warn me about football players," I point out. "Yeah, but that was different. You were just a kid then. There's a world of difference between a freshman in college and a senior. Plus, you were a different guy back then," my dad says to Hunter, then turns to me. "The stuff he and the other players would talk about in the locker room…" he says with a shake of his head. I clear my throat, regretting that I asked him to illuminate us. "Well, that's the thing, Dad." "Britt and I did date in college," Hunter says, biting the bullet. "What?" my dad asks, frowning. "After I explicitly warned you to not date football players? And after I warned you to stay away from my daughter?" "There's more," I say, bracing myself. "Max is Hunter's son." "WHAT!?" my dad erupts. "Dad, stay calm, okay? You're not supposed to get—" "Calm? How am I supposed to stay calm!? You abandoned my pregnant daughter?!" he shouts, leaping

up and approaching Hunter, who stands in case he needs to defend himself. I jump up and get between them. "No, Dad! He didn't know! I didn't tell him!" My dad looks at me suspiciously. "Well, he knows now!" "I only told him a few weeks ago," I tell him. "Back in college, I knew that Hunter would never abandon me if he knew I was pregnant, so I didn't tell him. I knew you'd be furious, and I was worried about his NFL chances. So I went to Oregon without telling either of you the truth." "You didn't know?" my dad demands of Hunter. "No, sir," Hunter tells him. "I never would have let Britt raise a child alone, believe me. I've always intended to do right by her." "It's true, Dad," I echo. "Hunter has always been a perfect gentleman to me." My dad turns and runs a hand across his thinning hair. "So you were both running around together behind my back. And after all this time, you didn't tell me," he says, directing the final accusation toward Hunter. "I'm sorry," Hunter says. "I really am, Coach. After Britt left, I was devastated, and being able to come to you for advice, for company, I didn't want to give that up. It was selfish, but you're the only reason I got through that time." My dad sighs, and collapses back onto the couch. Hunter and I both sit back down, and let him sit in silence for a moment as he processes things. "So, what now? Are you dating?" he finally asks. I smile tentatively at Hunter. "Um, yeah," I say. "I guess we are." "It seems a little strange to be dating at this point," Hunter acknowledges. "But it'll be a relief to do it out in the open finally." "So have—" my dad begins, but breaks off as little feet pad down the stairs. "Mama?" Max calls out, then spots Hunter. "Hunter!" he yells, and runs toward him. Hunter leans down and scoops him up into his lap. "Does he know?" my dad asks quietly, indicating Max. I shake my head no. "We wanted to tell you first." "Well, I'll give you the room. I need some time myself," he says. "You think we should do it now?" I ask worriedly. "I think he's going to take it fine," my dad replies, indicating Max's grinning face on Hunter's lap. "Seems like now's as good a time as any."



Chapter 36 Hunter "Now?" I ask Britt, as Coach heads upstairs. "You don't have to," she tells me. "After this, things will be different with him," she says, nodding her head down at Max. "Telling him is a commitment. You won't be able to go back." "I don't want to go back," I reply, looking down at the warm little body in my lap. My son. Britt takes a deep breath. "Okay, then." She sits on the edge of the couch and places her hand on Max's leg to get his attention. "Hey, honey, Hunter and I have to tell you something." "Yeah," Max acknowledges. "You know how other kids have mommies and daddies?" she says, and Max nods. I watch his face carefully. What if he's angry that I missed out on all that time with him? "And I told you that you have a dad, too, but he was away." "Yeah, he away," Max repeats. "Right. Well, actually…" Britt looks up at me, giving me the moment. "Actually, I'm your dad, Max," I tell him slowly, trying to make sure he understands. He looks up at me, his eyes focused on mine. "You my dad?" he asks. "Yeah, honey. Hunter is your dad." Max gasps and claps his hands together. "You my dad? You sure?" Britt laughs. "Yep, we're sure." "Wow, wow," Max says. I grin down at him and feel my eyes start to well up. "Think I could give you a hug, Max?" I ask. "Yeah," he replies, and opens his arms. I bend and wrap my arms around him, holding his little body delicately. I can't believe this is my son. "You my dad!" Max announces, more sure of himself now. "That's right!" I confirm. "Dad, want to go play?" he asks, tugging my sleeve. I burst out laughing, both from the exhilaration at hearing him call me Dad, and at how quickly he's able to take this news in stride. "I do want to go play," I tell him. "We'll all go," Britt suggests. I look up at her, and see that her face is streaked with tears. I lean forward and kiss her, and Max bursts off my laugh, forcing us apart. Britt laughs and wipes her face. "Come on!" Max encourages us. I take Britt's hand and we follow our son out to the backyard. He runs straight for a foam football, and I have to let go of his mom's hand to catch it.

"Nice throw, Max!" I tell him. My mind starts to flash forward to all the things I'll be able to teach him. Not just about football, but about how to be a man, how to be a leader. "He definitely got some of my genes," I say to Britt with a smile. We toss the ball around for a while, and Max switches off between calling me Dad and Hunter. I don't really care what he calls me for now, I'm just enjoying spending time with him. When Max finally tires out, which takes much longer than I thought it would, he runs up to me and pulls me upstairs to show me his bedroom. "You stay in here?" Max asks. "No, Max, Hunter has to stay at his house," Britt explains as Max pushes a racecar back and forth on the floor. I sit cross-legged, feeling too large for this small room. Max frowns. "Why?" "I have my own house," I try to explain to him. "No. Dads and moms live together," he informs us. I glance at Britt. "Usually that's true, Max. But right now, your mom and I live apart. Do you want to come over and see my house?" I ask him. "Yeah," he nods. I smile, an idea forming in my mind. "I think you're going to like it."



Chapter 37 Britt We pull up to a huge, gated mansion. Max leans over from his car seat in the back and presses his face against the glass as I lean over and buzz to be let in. The gates swing silently open and I continue up the circular drive. "Wow," Max says. "Dad live here?" "Yeah, Dad lives here," I reply, smiling at how quickly he's adjusting to the news that Hunter is his father. I should have known he would. Kids at Max's age have brains that are still growing, and new information is much easier to take in than it is for adults. Hunter opens the door as I park. Max waves and starts undoing his seat belt. He's just figured out how to do it himself, which is a little worrying for me, since sometimes he'll try to do it in the middle of a ride. As I take Max out of the back seat and shut the car door behind us, I smile up at Hunter, feeling more like a nerdy girl in high school seeing the popular jock than the mother of his child. He's clearly just gotten home from practice. His hair is damp from a shower, and he's wearing a white t-shirt and sweats that hang low on his hips, and has a protein shake in his right hand. "Hey, Max!" he greets him, leaning down to pick him up easily with one arm. I walk up the front steps after him, and Hunter leans down to brush a kiss across my lips, sending a tingle down my spine. My eyes widen as we step inside. The foyer is marble, and has two staircases winding up to the second floor. I can see straight through to the glass doors at the rear and out into the back yard. Jeez, is that a lake? "Let's go upstairs, Max. I have a surprise for you," Hunter says, and I follow them up the right side staircase. Hunter walks the length of the hallway with Max in his arms, and then stops at a door on the left just before the end of the hallway. He sets Max on the floor and opens the door. Max runs in as he sees the room is full of toys. My jaw drops open as I follow him inside. It was only a few days ago that Hunter invited us over to see his house, so how did he get this done so quickly? It's a huge room, and completely outfitted with everything that Max could want. Hunter turns to me and sees my shocked expression. "I hired some people," he explains with a smile. "For me?" Max asks, sticking his little hands into the boxes of toys. "Yeah, this is for you, Max. And if your mom says it's okay, maybe you can have sleepovers here." Max pulls a box out of the toys and dumps it on the floor, then sits among the pieces. He quickly starts building a train track out of the pieces. "Max, we'll be right down the hall, okay?" Hunter says. Max barely nods, he's too entranced by all his

new toys. "I have to show you something," he says, taking my hand and leading me back into the hallway and to the final door. He opens it, and ushers me inside. "Beautiful," I nod, taking in what is clearly the master bedroom. The furniture is all modern, dark wood, with white linens and gauzy curtains. "This is what I wanted to show you," Hunter says, opening a closet door. I walk over and look inside the space. There's room enough to walk in, but all the shelves are empty. "This closet's all yours. I had a second one installed." "Wow, Hunter, this is a lot," I say walking back toward the bed and sitting on a cushioned bench in front of it. I rub my forehead, feeling a little lightheaded. "I mean, it's great, it's just…" "I thought you'd like it," he says with a frown. "I love it. It's just...this all feels really fast." "It's been four years." "Four years since we've even gone out on a date," I point out. "So what, you don't want to live here?" "That's not what I'm saying! I just don't want to move here for Max," I finally say, realizing that's why I'm so emotional. "What do you mean?" "I just want to make sure that...that we're not together just because we have a son together," I admit. "Is that why you're here? Just because you want a father for Max?" "No, of course not!" I reply. "I'm worried that you feel like you have to do this, like it's your duty." "I don't—" he breaks off at the sound of an electronic ringing noise. "That's the front gate. Hang on." He leaves, and I put my head in my hands. What am I doing? He's done all this great stuff, and I'm ruining it. "Mama?" I hear from the other room, and hurry over to Max's room. He's standing near the doorway with a wooden train in his hand. "I show Hunter," he says, holding it up. "Okay, honey, let's go find him," I say, extending my hand. Max takes it and we head down the hallway. At the top of the stairs. I see Hunter and his agent Rich talking in the foyer. "Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt," I say as they both look up toward us. "No, that's okay," Hunter says. I walk down the stairs slowly with Max. "Rich, this is Britt, and her son—our son—Max." "Yeah, we met at the—wait, whose son?" Rich asks. "Mine and Britt's. Long story," Hunter says. He signs the papers in his hand and gives them back to Rich. "Ah. Well, congrats, then," Rich says, but his smile looks a little forced to me. "Thanks," he says to Hunter, indicating the papers. "Good to see you again, Britt, and Max."

"Bye!" Max offers as he leaves and Hunter shuts the door. "I'm sorry," Hunter and I say at the same time. "You think we could go on a date?" I ask. "Like in public?" "We've never really done that, huh?" Hunter asks. "Okay, leave it up to me."



Chapter 38 Hunter "Sorry," I murmur to Britt, taking her hand under the table. "No, it'll be fun," she replies with a smile. "Adam hasn't gone on a date in a while because he was finishing law school, so he told me he needed moral support," I tell her. "This place is beautiful," Britt says, looking around. "Very romantic. Even if there will be four of us," she adds with a laugh. Danielle comes hurrying up to the table, stops, and turns in a full circle. "How do I look? Also, hi," she says. "You look great," Britt tells her. "Here, we'll scooch over so you and Adam can sit next to each other." I do my best to slide over in the booth, trying not to knock anything over. It clearly wasn't made for someone of my size. Just as Danielle sits, Adam comes walking over. "I hope I'm not late," he says. "Danielle, great to see you again," he adds, kissing her on the cheek. "Don't get up," he tells Britt and me, sliding in next to Danielle. I order a bottle of champagne from the waiter, and Adam leans in conspiratorially. "So, Britt, you're the mystery woman." "Sorry?" she asks. "I always knew Hunter was up to something our senior year. You sure know how to keep a secret, huh?" "So does she," I add with a smile, and Britt winces but laughs. "And Danielle, you knew, too?" Adam asks, turning to her. "I did," she admits. "But don't feel left out. I'm the only other one who knew. Plus, I do feel like I'm kind of responsible for you two getting together." "Is that so?" Britt asks. "Sure, if it hadn't been for me, you never would have come to the football frat that night," Danielle points out. Britt laughs, and I can't help but smile. "So you're suggesting that you did that on purpose?" "Did what?" Adam asks. "Don't worry, Danielle," I say as she blushes. "Adam did far, far worse." "I got too drunk and was pretty much passed out on the floor of the bathroom, and Britt had to come rescue me," she fills Adam in.

"And then I didn't actually know how to rescue her," Britt adds, "and so Hunter helped out and then carried her home. That was the night we met." "Officially, but I'd seen you before that," I tell her. "Wait, are you talking about the locker room? I had no idea you even remembered that!" Britt exclaims. "Britt caught a glimpse of me in the locker room one day while I was changing," I explain "I wasn't trying to be a Peeping Tom or anything! I just happened to be passing by on my way to see my father." "But you liked what you saw," I tease her. "You've got me there," she admits. "Excuse me?" I look up to see two beautiful girls standing next to the table. "We're really sorry to bother you, but could we take a picture with you?" the taller one asks. "Ah, sure," I reply. I'm happy to take photos with fans, but when they interrupt a private dinner it is a little frustrating. I stand up, and they quickly press their bodies against mine and wrap their arms around my waist. I smile politely for the camera as one holds it out for a selfie. "Thank you so much!" they gush, and leave, checking the photo on the phone to make sure it came out right. "Sorry," I say as I sit back down. "If I say no to autographs and stuff, I'll start to get a reputation, and then the endorsements might get jeopardized. I just have to watch my image." "I can't imagine what it's like," Adam says. "I got a fraction of what you do when I played for the Bengals, and my ex-wife hated it." "Is that why you…" Danielle hedges. "That was only a small part of it. I think me being away for so long was the first crack. We'd just gotten married, and then all of a sudden I'm gone. Not that it's the same way for everyone," he adds when he looks at me to find I'm shooting daggers at him. "I'm sure it's different for every relationship," Danielle adds, trying to smooth things over. I glance down to see Britt trying to nervously tear her napkin, only to find that it's made of cloth. "Exactly. I mean you're a star, so if you're traded, you have the resources to get a great place anywhere. So it'd be much easier," Adam adds. "Max will be starting school soon," Britt points out quietly. "So it wouldn't be that easy." "What's everyone getting?" Danielle asks brightly, scanning her eyes down the menu. Everyone plays along with her obvious change of subject, but I can tell Britt's mind is elsewhere during the meal. In the car ride back to my house, she's just as quiet. "Adam's relationship isn't the same as ours," I say in the car as Britt stares out the window. "I know. I'm sorry," she says, reaching across the console for my hand. "It's just that a lot of things are changing, and it's hard for me to keep up."

"I wish I didn't have to leave tomorrow," I tell her. It's playoff season, and the Titans are hitting the road again. "We still have tonight," she replies with a smile.



Chapter 39 Britt I wake up and stretch, marveling at how soft my sheets feel, then remember that they're not my sheets. I'm in Hunter's bed, at his house. I glance over at the clock. It's just after ten, and my dad told me he can take care of Max until his afternoon practice, so I have plenty of time before I need to get back home. I sit up, and see that Hunter has left a note for me at the foot of the bed. I had to leave for the airport, but didn't want to wake you. Help yourself to anything in the house. The door will lock behind you and the gate is on motion sensors. I smile at his terrible handwriting, but read the note again. Is it just my imagination, or does it sound a little brusque? Why, for example, didn't he write "Love, Hunter" at the end? I shake my head. Maybe I'm just being paranoid. I roll out of bed and pad over to the bureau. It's rare for me to have time by myself, so I want to enjoy it. I pull on a pair of Hunter's boxers and an old Vanover sweatshirt. It's huge on me, but I roll up the sleeves. I almost trip over my dress from last night, so I pick it up from the ground and fold it neatly on the bench at the end of the bed. I wander down the hallway, and decide to look around. Max and I could be moving in here, so I don't really feel like I'm snooping. I laugh as I open the door to the third empty room on the other end of the hallway. The house is so big that Hunter clearly has no idea what to do with so much space. I head downstairs. At least all the rooms on this level are furnished. On one side of the foyer is a giant great room, and the other side has the open concept kitchen with a dining table that could seat sixteen linebackers. My gaze shifts to the row of windows on the back of the house. I head toward them and open one of the doors. In my bare feet, I pad out onto a large, flagstone patio. There's an in-ground pool out here that I hadn't seen before, with a hot tub in the corner. I continue out past the stones and onto the grass. I see the small lake I noticed on my first visit, all the way out by the tree line. I step toward it, but a bell ringing inside draws me back. I hurry through the kitchen and into the marble foyer as it rings again. I frown as I realize it's the doorbell...shouldn't the gate have buzzed first? I look through the keyhole and am surprised to see Rich and another man I don't know. I guess Hunter must have given him the gate code. "Hi, Rich," I say opening the door. "Hunter's not here." "He's my client. I know he has a game," he tells me a little smugly. "I called your house, and your father told me you were here. Can we come in?"

"Um, sure," I reply, opening the door wider. "So you were looking for me, then? Why?" I ask. "May we sit?" Rich asks, looking toward the great room. "Of course," I reply, walking in with them. I feel awkward in my strange outfit, but am more concerned with why he's acting so cagey. Rich and the other man take the couch, and I sit expectantly in an armchair. "I'll get right to the point, Britt," Rich says with a friendly smile. "John here is a lab technician. We need your permission to test your son's DNA." "Excuse me?" "It's nothing personal. We just need to confirm that Max and Hunter share the same DNA." "You mean you want to make sure Max is really his son," I reply, anger immediately pulsing through my brain. "Bluntly put, yes. We'd be happy to drive you back to your home, and we could take the sample and get this whole thing over with. It's just a simple mouth swab." "I'd like you to leave now," I say, standing. "This isn't the first time this has happened to Hunter. A woman a couple years ago showed up asking him for child support, and it turned out it wasn't his child. It's quite common in the world of—" "I haven't asked Hunter for anything!" I snap. "If Max really is Hunter's son, then there's no need to get emotional." "I'm calling Hunter," I say, storming to the stairs. "Hunter wants this to happen," Rich calls after me. "What did you just say?" I stop in shock. "He asked me to get this done while he's gone. It's just a precaution. He wants to make sure his image is protected." I go cold at his words, so close to what Hunter himself said about his image last night. "I see." "So if you'd like to get your things, we could take you back to—" "No. I understand you're just doing your job, but no. Please leave." "But—" "Leave!" I almost yell, my emotion at a breaking point. "It didn't have to be this way," Rich says, but he and the lab technician move toward the door. They shut it behind them and I stand frozen in the foyer for a moment, my chest heaving. My face breaks and furious tears start running down my cheeks. I hurry upstairs and pull off Hunter's clothes, then put my dress back on. I tear out of the driveway and head back toward my dad's house. My house. I feel so humiliated, having to stand in front of Rich and that stranger while they accuse me of lying. How could Hunter do this to me? I thought he was the same person I got to know in college, but maybe I was wrong. The fame and the

success have changed him.



Chapter 40 Hunter I frown down at my phone and toss it into my bag. Still no word from Britt. I called her hours ago to make sure she got home okay, and then again, and then two more times after that when my anxiety started to get the better of me. What if something happened to her? Or what if she's left me again? No...she wouldn't do that again, right? Still, this gnawing feeling won't leave my stomach even as we take the field. The only other time she hasn't returned my messages is when she left me back in college. That's the only precedent I have to go on. Still, this Lions defense doesn't give a shit about my personal life. They only want to grind me into the dirt. From the very first snap, I can tell I'm off. My arm feels stiff and like it's not connected to my body. I start to overanalyze. Even though I know I'm doing it, it's still impossible to stop. "You're over-correcting!" Coach Mularkey yells as I head toward the bench after failing to convert on the third down. I nod. I know, I just don't know what the hell to do to stop it. In the second quarter, I insist on calling running plays. I don't trust myself right now, and I need my teammates to pick up some of the slack. Thankfully, the Lions are surprised by the tactic and we manage to score a touchdown, leaving the game tied at the half. In the locker room, some teammates offer encouragement, but more stay away. They can tell my head's not in the right place, and most of these guys aren't really talkers. The offensive coordinator pulls me aside and tells me my release point is a little later than usual, which is at least something I can work on. The second half goes no better for me, but hanks to our defense, the Lions don't score any more touchdowns either. On our last possession, I drive us far enough downfield that our kicker is able to score a field goal, and we win by three. The press conference afterward is painful. I have my phone in my lap and keep glancing down at it, but still no word from Britt. Now I'm sure something's wrong. The reporters ask question after question, trying to get me to reveal something about my lackluster performance today, but it's not like I can clue them in. "I had an off day. I'm not making excuses, just is what it is. Thankfully, my teammates really stepped up and we managed to pull it through," I reply shortly, and glare at our publicist, letting him know that he better get me off this fucking stage before I explode. I know it's late, but on the way back to the airport I give Coach McKay a call. Maybe Britt had a car

accident on the way back to their house. There's no answer, which surprises me. It's late, and Coach is always home early. I drive back to my house, hoping that Britt left me a note or something. "Britt?" I call out as I enter, just in case. My voice echoes in the foyer, and my house feels empty and soulless. I head upstairs to my bedroom where I left her, and see a pair of boxers and an old sweatshirt of mine tossed on the floor. That's weird. Britt's so neat and conscientious. Something's definitely wrong. I try her house again. "Hello?" Coach answers. "Thank god. Have you talked to Britt? I'm worried." "Yes, she's here," he answers shortly. "Can I talk to her?" There's a long pause, and from the muffled sounds I think he's asking Britt. "She doesn't want to talk." "What? Why? Is she okay?" "No, she's not," Coach snaps. "Don't call here, and don't come by." I hear the phone click before I can say anything else. What the fuck?



Chapter 41 Britt "I'm sorry to drag you into this," I tell my dad as he returns to sit next to me on the couch. "You're not," he tells me simply. "And I'm not expecting you to change your relationship with Hunter. You two have—" "No. For him to suggest that you would lie about something like that for money, that's beyond the pale. It goes to his character." "He seemed so immediately attached to Max, though. I can't believe that he would question that, that he would question me." I feel a pang of guilt run through me. "Though maybe I have given him reason to question. I left him so suddenly, maybe he's having trouble trusting me." "Mm," my dad murmurs. "Sorry. I'm not so good at this stuff," he sighs. "Your mother would have been much better." I look at him in surprise. "You don't talk about her much." There's a long pause. "No," he finally says. "Too painful." "It was nice to talk to Paula about her. Paula said they were really different growing up." "Your mom was quiet, studious, like you. Paula was the wild one, always going out, partying. Your mom was always worried about her." "But she turned out fine." "And your mom...I suppose it's impossible to insulate yourself entirely from pain. The world will find a way to bring it to your doorstep." "Do you think I should take the test?" I ask him. "It's not like I haven't caused him pain. Maybe he just needs to be sure." "You do what you think is best," my dad says. "You were always smarter than me anyway. I'm heading to bed. I'm still getting tired a little earlier than I used to, and it's way past my bedtime anyway. "'Night, Dad," I say, pulling the throw blanket over my legs up a little higher. I sit in silence for a few minutes, thinking, as I hear my dad walking in the master bedroom overhead. I've already missed four years with Hunter. Do I really want to miss any more time? Maybe fame has changed him, but there's still no way I could ever walk away. If he needs proof, fine. I'll give him proof. I head upstairs to Max's room, the small guest room at the back of the house. I tiptoe in. He's splayed on in his crib with his arms over his head. He's getting too big for this thing. Soon he'll need a regular bed like the one in his room at Hunter's house. I gently brush his bangs off of his forehead, then leave and head into the hall bathroom.

His toothbrush is sitting on the sink next to mine. I pick it up and wrap the head with a wad of toilet paper, then choose a new one for him from the superhero themed pack I bought him at Costco. I walk with it back into my bedroom, where my phone is currently lighting up with a text message. It's from Danielle. My second date with Adam went much better than our double date, she writes, followed by a winky face. Reading between the lines, my guess is that they had sex. Glad to hear it! I write back. I don't want to burden her with what I'm going through. I want at least one of our love lives to be smooth sailing.



Chapter 42 Hunter I wrack my brain, trying to figure out what went wrong. I barely slept last night, and now I feel like shit. I'm punishing myself by watching all the recaps on the game, hearing all the different announcers say in different ways how badly I played, and how I might really fuck it up in the next playoff game, not to mention the Super Bowl. If we even get there. My phone rings. I jump up to answer it, hoping it's Britt, but my heart sinks as I see it's just my agent, probably calling to find out why I played so fucking badly last night. "Hey Rich," I answer flatly. "Hey, man. How you feeling?" "Is that a trick question? You saw the game, right?" "Yeah, yeah, the game. That was a bit of a rough one. But, hey, you pulled it out. Listen—" I hear the front gate buzz and put Rich on speaker so I can check the security camera hookup on my phone. Holy shit, it's Britt. "I gotta go. Call you later," I tell him shortly, and buzz Britt in. I walk quickly to the front door and hurry out to Britt's car. She steps out, looking serious. "Britt, what—" "Here," she says, pressing a Ziploc bag toward me. I take it and look at the little Superman toothbrush inside. "I don't get it," I reply, staring at it, then back up at her. "I'll be honest. I'm so fucking mad at you right now, but I can't just run away. Not just because I can't imagine having to live without you again, but also because you're Max's father, and he wants you in his life, too. So if this is what it takes to make that happen, then fine." "Britt," I say carefully. "I'm glad to hear that you don't want to live without me, but I sincerely have no idea what you're talking about." "The toothbrush has Max's DNA on it!" she replies, looking completely exasperated. "Why would I want Max's DNA?" I reply, now equally frustrated. "You said that you did!" "I never said that!" "You're right, you sent Rich to say it instead!" she yells back, her blue eyes flashing. "Hang on. Rich told you that I wanted Max's DNA?" "Yes, for the test!" A realization slowly dawns on me. "You're angry because Rich came to you and told you that I want to

test Max's DNA to make sure he's my son." "Yes, of course I'm angry! The idea that I would show up in your life again just looking for money, it's, it's—" she trails off, unable to find the words she's looking for in the middle of her rage. I hand her back the toothbrush. "Give this back to Max, and just hang on one second." I take my phone back out of my pocket and call Rich back. "Hey Rich, sorry about that," I say, putting him on speaker. Britt is still glaring at me, but at least she's listening. "No worries, I just—" "Did you ask Britt to agree to DNA test Max?" "Well, you know, I was just looking out for your best interests." "I never asked you to do that. I would never ask you to do that." "I know, but this woman just shows up after four years and says you're the father of his son? Sometimes emotions can blind you to—" "You're fired," I say, and hang up. "You didn't ask him to do that?" Britt whispers, her eyes wide. "I can't believe you'd think that I would," I tell her. "I'm sorry," she gasps, pressing her forehead into my chest. "It's just that everything happened so fast, you know? It almost seemed too good to be true. I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, and I thought this was it." "I've had that feeling too," I tell her. "Sometimes it's just hard to believe you're really back. I was terrified when you weren't returning my calls. I thought maybe you left again. You can't pull stuff like that. You have to tell me what's going on." "You're right," she murmurs, looking up at me. "Okay, so what happens if you get traded? Max can't move around—" "I have a while left on my contract yet, and in case you haven't noticed, I'm pretty fucking good at my job. I don't think the Titans want to get rid of me." "But what if—" "Then we'll move. Together, with Max. We'll figure it out. I thought you said you weren't a planner anymore," I say with a smile. She laughs. "I guess old habits die hard." "Any other concerns?" "Yeah, this house is too big! You've got entire rooms just sitting empty." "Well, I never had anything to fill them with. Does this mean you're thinking about moving in?" "Is that crazy?" she asks "Are we moving too fast?" "We met four years ago," I remind her. She grins. "You're right. I don't want to waste any more time. We've already missed so much." My phone starts ringing again. I look down, knowing it'll be Rich, and it is.

"Think I can throw it over the house?" I ask, turning to judge the height and width of the walls and roof. "Considering you've got the best arm in the NFL, yes," Britt laughs. "But I still want to see you do it." I back up a few steps, and then throw my phone up and over the house as it continues to ring. Britt and I both pause to see if we can hear it after it clears the roof, but we can't. "That's better," I smile, and pull her against me. I lean down, and cover her mouth with a kiss.



Chapter 43 Britt I sit in the second floor study and refresh my email again and again. My breath catches as a new email pops up and I click on it. I shriek, and run downstairs as fast as I can, and then out through the back door and onto the patio. "I got in!" I yell. Hunter pauses in mid-throw. He and Max are playing catch on the grass just past the covered pool. "I knew it!" Hunter yells, tossing the ball to the side and running over to me. He scoops me up into a hug as I giggle and Max comes running over. I really don't know what I would have done if I hadn't been accepted into Vanover's PhD program, since there really isn't another program of its caliber in the area. Now I'll be able to get my psychology degree there starting in the fall. "Good job, Mama!" Max says, tugging on the leg of my jeans as Hunter puts me back down on the ground. "Thanks, honey," I reply, even though I know Max doesn't really understand what's happening, he just knows I'm happy. "I have a present for you," Hunter tells me. "What would you have done if I hadn't gotten in?" I ask, resting my chin on his chest so I can look up to his smiling brown eyes. "You're the smartest person I know. I didn't have a doubt in my mind that you'd get in," he tells me, kissing my forehead. "Hey, Max," he says, "I want you to go into your playroom and find the blue box that's hidden in your toy house." Max's eyes light up and he runs to the house. "But don't open it!" Hunter adds. "I thought it was a good hiding place because he never plays with that thing anymore." I smile. "It's nice having you around more," I tell him. His season ended a month ago with Hunter leading the Titans to victory in the Super Bowl, and now in the off-season, he can help with Max more day-to-day. Now he and Max have their own relationship, and Hunter knows all of Max's small habits and the ways to help him get through the day without a tantrum. "I love being around more," Hunter says, wrapping his arms more tightly around me as I shiver. It's March, but there's a chill in the air and I ran outside without putting on a coat. Max comes running out waving a small box in his hands. My eyes widen at the familiar-looking shade of robin's egg blue. I look up to see Hunter watching my expression. "Is that…?" I ask.

Max triumphantly hands Hunter the box. "I found!" he declares. I step back and cover my mouth as my eyes well up with tears. "Mama?" Max asks questioningly, worried about my reaction. "I'm fine, honey. Sometimes tears are for happiness, not sadness." Hunter kneels in front of me and I almost lose it. Max leans affectionately against his giant dad as Hunter opens the box, revealing a crystal clear, square cut solitaire diamond. "Britt," Hunter begins, his voice cracking a bit. He clears his throat. "The last few months since you and Max moved in have been the happiest of my life. I feel complete in a way that I never knew was possible. While I know already that nothing could ever break us apart, I'd still be honored to call you my wife. Will you marry me?" "Yes," I gasp, overcome with emotion. I kneel down, and wrap my arms around Hunter and Max both. They're already my family, but now just a little more officially.



Chapter 44 Hunter I've had to play football on a holiday before, but never have I wanted to get home so much. After our plane lands, I toss my bag in the backseat of my car and push the speed limit on my way. Thankfully most people are already with their families, stuffing their faces with Thanksgiving turkey. As I pull through the gate, I smile as I see our driveway full of cars and the windows all lit up and welcoming. Britt insisted on holding dinner late so that I could be here for it. I can't believe I used to come home to an empty house. I'd never want to go back to that time again. I park on the grass so that I don't block anyone in, and grab my bag and walk quickly the rest of the way. "I'm home!" I call out as I shut the front door behind me. "Daddy!" Max yells, sprinting from the kitchen and launching himself at me. He hits me like a tiny pack of bricks, and I scoop him up as I dump my bag. "Great game," Britt says, walking into the foyer. I want to pull her against my body, but instead I lean over her very pregnant belly and kiss her on the lips. "Ew," Max protests, having become recently grossed out by his parents' displays of affection. "I know, honey, but you're just going to have to put up with us," Britt says, laughing. "How's your back?" I ask her, setting Max on the ground. She's at eight months, and her back gets sore if she stands for too long. "Not too bad, actually. Paula and Danielle have been really helpful. Come on, everyone wants to see you," she tells me, taking my hand. I walk into the kitchen and see Coach McKay talking to my parents by the breakfast bar, Paula and Danielle scurrying around the kitchen, and Adam and Paula's boyfriend Dave sharing beers as they sit at the dining room table. A chorus of hellos rise as I step inside, and I'm swarmed with hugs. "You go sit," I tell Britt, ushering her toward the table. "Don't be silly, you just got home from a game!" Britt laughs. "Come on, Britt. Join us lazy folks over here," Adam says, pulling out a chair next to the head of the table for her. "Oh, alright," Britt grumbles, accustomed to being of more use. I smile and head over to the kitchen. "You want to check on the turkey?" Paula asks, pointing to the oven. "On it," I tell her. Paula is just as warm and kind as Britt described her, and I was glad to be able to help her pay off her house. She was there for Britt when I couldn't be, and I would have happily done

much more for her. She and Coach have mended fences, and I think the idea of her having a boyfriend has even put the thought of dating again into Coach's mind. I set the turkey right on the granite countertop since all the burners are taken. "Looks good to me," I announce, cutting into it. "We're a go, everyone!" Danielle announces. "Good job, babe!" Adam calls from the table, and I shake my head at him with a smile. I lug the huge turkey toward the table and set it down, then make sure everyone has something to drink in their glasses, though only water for my wife. We all settle down into our seats, me at the head of the table, Britt on my right, and Max in a booster seat on my left. I raise the glass of beer in front of me. "Thank you all for making the trip to be here, and thanks for waiting on dinner. I've got a lot to be thankful for right now." "Mama!" Max yells out. Everyone laughs. "Yes, that's right, Max. I've got your mom, I've got you, Max, and another little one on the way. I don't think my heart could get any fuller." "Cheers!" everyone says as I raise my glass a little higher. "Love you," Britt whispers, leaning over and brushing a kiss on my cheek, the tip of her nose rubbing into my stubble. "Love you, too."

* * * THE END

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