by Brenda Novak
“He thought you could walk on water,” she said. “The fact that you could overcome what you’d been through and do what you’ve done gave him hope. You were there at a critical time, and that’s what pulled him through. Now he’s graduated from college, married and expecting a baby.” She smiled broadly. “You’re his hero—but you’re mine, too. I love that kid so much.”
“I had no idea that my involvement in Sean’s life had done anything at all.” Hudson hadn’t even focused that much attention on the boy, because he’d had a family who loved him. He’d spent more time with some of the others who’d had no support—and a decade ago his involvement was more limited.
“He never got along with his father, my daughter’s ex. I think Drew was abusive, if you want the truth. Anyway, that man’s no longer in the picture. But you were Sean’s role model, someone he admired, right when it counted the most. I can’t tell you how grateful I am for what you give to that school—me and his mother.”
“I enjoy working with the boys,” he said.
“And you can reach them, because you know what it’s like to have a difficult childhood. It’s made you caring, empathetic and willing to get off your ass instead of just sitting back and enjoying your money. That’s why I won’t let my neighbors take down this sign. I don’t care if they like it or not. This sign stands for something. It stands for taking lemons and making lemonade. I, for one, am grateful that you were able to overcome what you’ve been through. You didn’t let it break you—no sir—and that acts as a beacon for others. That’s why football is important. It’s football that put you up in front of everyone, so they could see your example.”
Her words hit him so hard, Hudson couldn’t speak right away. He’d been feeling sorry for himself, he realized, letting his pain and disappointment destroy him, as so many of the boys did. What he needed to do was overcome. Be the beacon this woman thought he was. He wasn’t the only one who’d ever suffered—yet he’d been given a unique opportunity to make a difference.
“Thank you,” he said. “Thank you for putting up the sign. I needed to see it.”
“Oh, it’s not going anywhere,” she said, as if she’d gladly take on all challengers.
Hudson walked over to give her a hug. “You’re an amazing woman,” he murmured.
“And you’re even more handsome up close. If I was forty years younger, you wouldn’t still be single—not if I could help it,” she said.
He laughed and waved at Archie, who was also laughing, as he walked away.
23
Ellie had gone to bed late. Even then she couldn’t sleep. Bruiser hadn’t been able to reach Hudson, either, so she had no idea where he was. She hated the thought that he was hurting and she couldn’t do anything to help. She kept imagining him driving off the edge of Highway 1, a winding stretch of road hugging the California coast, because he was going too fast or being too reckless.
She wanted to call him again—but she’d tried so many times already. She was pretty sure he’d turned off his phone. Her calls transferred directly to voice mail and Bruiser said his did, too.
Hudson would get in touch with them eventually. He had to come back to his life, to her, at some point.
Didn’t he?
“He’ll be fine,” she told herself, but nothing seemed to mitigate the worry that burned in her stomach like acid. As the minutes ticked by and she stared at her phone, hoping for some word on his whereabouts, the tears she’d held back all day began to fall.
She sat up and checked the alarm clock by her bed. It would be midday in France, which made it tempting to call her parents. They’d always been there for her, always given her love and support when she needed it most. Being so upset and frightened caused her to miss them more than ever. She wanted to talk to them—knew they were long overdue for a serious conversation, anyway.
She wasn’t quite seven months, but she was close. It was time to tell them about the baby, about everything.
* * *
Hudson woke with a start. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon, and there was a highway patrolman peering in at him. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he collected his faculties and straightened so he could roll down the window.
“Hudson King?” the officer said as if he wasn’t quite convinced he could believe what he saw.
A car whizzed by, and a gust of cool air ruffled Hudson’s hair. “Yes?”
“What are you doing on the side of the road?”
“I was trying to make it back to my place in Silver Springs last night to surprise my girlfriend. But I got too tired. Had to pull over. And that’s the last thing I remember.”
The cop pursed his lips as he considered Hudson’s excuse. “You haven’t been drinking, have you?”
“Not a drop,” he replied, but only after Hudson had taken a Breathalyzer test and the result showed zero alcohol in his system did the officer’s attitude improve.
“It’s not safe sleeping out here in the middle of nowhere,” he said. “Anyone could’ve approached you, pulled out a gun, stolen your wallet or even your car.” He whistled as he admired the Porsche. “You wouldn’t want to lose this baby.”
“I didn’t plan to rest as long as I did.”
“How are you feeling now?”
Hudson put his foot on the brake, ready to start the engine. “Fine. I’ll be on my way.”
“Will you do me a favor before you go?”
Hudson hesitated. “Sure. What is it?”
The officer gave him a sheepish look. “My son and I are big fans. Would you mind signing something I could take home to him?”
“Not at all.” While he waited for the officer to bring him a piece of paper from his cruiser, Hudson searched for his phone. He’d turned it off to conserve battery power—he’d forgotten his charger in his truck—but he switched it on now. Bruiser and Ellie had left him many messages. He wanted to call them both, tell them he was okay. But it was too early. He didn’t see any reason to wake them. He could reach out to Bruiser later. And he was only an hour or so away from Silver Springs.
He’d be home before Ellie even opened her eyes.
* * *
After a good cry while talking to her parents, who were too concerned about what might be going on with Hudson to be very angry at her for not telling them sooner, Ellie finally sank into a deep sleep. She kept dreaming about Hudson, though, so she didn’t believe it was real when she heard him whisper her name, felt his hands slide under her and his mouth against her temple as he lifted her from the bed.
“Hudson?” she murmured, half-awake. “I’ve been so worried about you. Are you really back?”
“Yeah, I’m here.”
“And you’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” he said as he carried her out of the room.
Reassured by his close proximity, she slipped her arms around his neck and pressed her cheek to his solid chest. “God, you scared me. I kept imagining you being too upset to pay attention to the road.”
“I’m sorry.”
She raised her head. “Did you get my messages?”
“I did.”
“We’re going to double-check every detail of what Cort Matisson told you. Make sure it’s all true. And if it is? We’ll deal with it—together.”
“We’ll talk about that mess later.”
“What are we doing now?” she asked as he put her in his bed.
“We’re going to celebrate the fact that I have someone in my life who’s worth hanging on to. That’s what I need to focus on, because that’s what matters most.” He straightened. “If you want me as badly as I want you, that is.”
She smiled up at him. “I’ve never wanted anyone more.”
* * *
Hudson loved the swell of Ellie’s stomach, the knowledge that sh
e would soon give birth to their son. The three of them would be bound together for the rest of their lives by ties that could not easily be broken. Whether their relationship led to marriage or not, she’d always be the mother of his child, and his child would always belong to him. Barring something tragic, Ellie and their son would both be part of the rest of his life.
The feel of her naked body against his served as a perfect reminder that he was as lucky in some areas as he was unlucky in others. He needed to value the things that made him feel whole and happy, cling to the love she offered him and keep fighting to outdistance his past, regardless of the details of his birth or the humiliation he would suffer if those details were revealed to the public.
Being careful not to push down on the baby, he rested the bulk of his weight on his elbows and knees, then slid her beneath him. “What are we going to name our son?” She had a baby-naming book and had been highlighting ones with potential. She’d mentioned a few.
“We could name him after his father,” she said, reaching up to smooth the hair out of his eyes.
“No, my name is a constant reminder of my past.”
“It should also be a reminder of everything you’ve accomplished despite your past.”
“I don’t want to burden him with my bullshit—especially now.”
“So what do you suggest?”
He kissed her neck, using his tongue so he could really taste her. He’d imagined doing this since he’d made love to her the last time. “Ryan has a nice ring to it.”
“Don’t you think there are a lot of Ryans in the world as it is?”
“I don’t. I’ve never met a Ryan who’s in an unfortunate situation. Ryans always seem to have everything. Ryan Gosling. Ryan Reynolds. Ryan Seacrest. Ryan Tedder.”
“Who’s Ryan Tedder?”
He chuckled to himself, somewhat surprised she hadn’t asked who the other Ryans were, too. “Lead singer for One Republic.”
“Oh. A band. But I was hoping to use a name that’s more...unique. What about Cameron? Or, even better, Garrison?”
“Garrison King sounds good. Or there’s Guido. I’ve never met a Guido outside the movies. That should be unique.”
“Are you kidding?” she asked with a tinge of panic.
He laughed. “Yes.”
“Whew! I’m happy to have your input, but whatever you do, don’t choose Guido. That sounds like a member of the mafia.”
“We’ll talk about it later,” he responded as he found her mouth. “You’re all I can think about right now.”
Her hands delved into his hair as she parted her lips. This was much better than the way they’d spent most other nights since she’d arrived. He should’ve carried her into his room long ago—and made love to her whenever she’d let him. The past six weeks suddenly seemed like such a waste of effort, trying not to love her. It felt good to give in to what he’d been feeling all along.
“You like California, don’t you?” he asked as he kissed his way along her jawline. “You like living here with me?”
She took his face between her hands. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re not suddenly going to tell me you’re moving back to Miami? I can count on you being here at least until the baby turns six months, like we agreed? I have that long?”
“Hudson, I’m not going anywhere—not without you.”
He watched her face as he spread her legs and pressed inside her. When she closed her eyes and arched her back as if their joining, especially in this moment, meant every bit as much to her as to him, he began to thrust with a possessiveness he’d never allowed himself to feel before. “This is where you’ll sleep from now on,” he told her.
She looked up at him. “What does that mean?”
“It means we’re officially seeing each other. I’m done wanting you while you’re in the next room.”
She gasped as he lowered his mouth to her breast. “Careful. You’re getting awfully close to a commitment,” she teased.
“Whatever it takes,” he muttered. “Just as long as I never lose you.”
* * *
Ellie had thought she’d been in love with Don—and supposed that was a form of love, too—but it had lacked the ferocity she felt whenever she looked at Hudson, especially while he was sleeping, as he was now. The strength of her emotions overwhelmed and frightened her, made her fear she’d unleashed the dragon that would eventually destroy her. Although Hudson seemed to be doing better, he’d still struggle with the demons of his past. That type of thing didn’t simply disappear.
Would he be able to recover? To put his abandonment issues behind him?
Maybe. Maybe not. She could still lose him to the dark thoughts that haunted him. He could decide to reject her love, to push her away, to insulate himself and make it impossible to feel pain. And if he couldn’t feel pain, he wouldn’t feel anything else, either. That was the thing.
She shifted so she could spoon him. “Don’t let the past destroy what we could have together,” she whispered, but she knew he hadn’t heard her.
* * *
When Hudson woke, he kept his eyes closed for several minutes so he could savor the feel of Ellie’s soft flesh and breathe in the smell of her silky hair. He’d found the woman he wanted to wake up with every morning. Thank God he’d been able to lower his defenses enough to realize it.
Actually, he hadn’t lowered his defenses. The past six weeks were a testament to that. He’d fought what he was feeling from the beginning, but somehow Ellie had scaled his walls, and she’d done it simply by being herself. She calmed him, grounded him, healed him.
He moved his hand so he could feel his baby.
“You waking up?” she murmured, covering his fingers with hers as they moved over her belly.
“Yeah.”
“Why? Are they expecting you at New Horizons?”
“No. It’s Saturday.” Sometimes he took Aaron or a handful of the other boys shopping, to the movies or out for pizza on the weekend. Or he played table tennis or video games with them in their game room. But he didn’t have anything planned for today—and he was glad. As much as he enjoyed being with Ellie, having her back in his arms, he hadn’t forgotten about Cort Matisson. He had to swab his cheek and get that DNA test sent to Samuel Jones. He also had to call Jones and ask for all the material he’d found on Cort Matisson. Hudson wanted to know everything about Matisson. He also wanted to know whether Julia was as sick as Cort had said and, if so, how he could make the most difference. Maybe she needed more than money; maybe she needed a better doctor, a better caregiver, a better place for her and her children to live. He’d decided he’d help her, but he wanted nothing to do with Cort, was going to make sure Cort didn’t receive anything—not so much as a signed jersey.
Ellie covered a yawn. “So why are you waking up early?”
“It’s nearly noon.”
“But we didn’t nod off until after eight. Four hours isn’t enough. Let’s sleep the day away.”
He moved her hair to the side so he could kiss her neck. “I would if I could, but I have to get that DNA test in the mail.”
“Oh, that’s right.” She turned to face him. “Can I make some suggestions on how we proceed from here?”
“You mean with Matisson?”
“How to handle the press that could arise from this.”
“I think we need to prepare for the worst. The publicity will be embarrassing,” he admitted. “For both of us. Now that you’re connected to me, it’ll reflect on you, too.”
“I don’t care—”
“That’s easy to say before you hear the jeers and comments we’re likely to get. Wait until you see the gross shit about inbreeding that’ll be painted on posters and waved in the stands by fans of my opponents. It’ll make you self-conscious abo
ut carrying my baby.”
“That’s terrible! Who would ever poke fun at something like that?”
“Believe me, it’ll happen. Some people will find it funny. Because I’m famous, they think they can say anything they want about me. You’ve seen the ‘Mean Tweets’ segment on Jimmy Kimmel...”
“No.”
He rolled his eyes as he laughed. “Of course not. Look who I’m talking to.”
“Stop.” She nudged him in the ribs. “I’ve been watching more TV since I came here. I’ll get up to speed on pop culture.”
“I’m not sure I want you to. I like you just the way you are—a little out of it.” He laughed again to let her know his words weren’t meant as a criticism. Then he sobered. “Even when I retire, this won’t go away. It’ll follow me for the rest of my life.”
“I wish I could argue about that—”
“But I’m right.”
“You might be. Some of the players on the teams you face will probably mutter comments—to try to get in your head—but you can’t let them rattle you.”
“Again, easier said than done.”
She reached up to run her thumb along his jaw. “If the DNA test comes back and isn’t what we hope, I say we hold a press conference.”
“A press conference?”
“You need to make the announcement yourself.”
“You want me to tell the world what I don’t want them to know? What I don’t want anyone to know?”
“It’ll be better that way. If you make it very clear that what happened was terrible, reprehensible, but nothing you had any choice in, it’ll set the tone for everyone else. You can’t act as if you don’t want it to come out, as if you’re ashamed or hurt or whatever. That’ll just hand your detractors a loaded gun.”
“They’re already holding a loaded gun, even if they don’t know it yet.”
“Still, that’s your best play, the only thing you can do to control the fallout. Don’t you think?”
He frowned as he considered her words. He hated the idea of going on TV to hang himself, but she was right. “Yeah.” He started to get up, but she caught his arm.
