Page 41 of The Fullback
CHAPTER TWELVE
Bailey
Something was wrong with Hunter.
He’d been strangely calm since his appointment with Stevie, and he’d even been asking about whether Aiden would bring him a cookie next time he came up. The question had caught me so off balance I’d almost asked Hunter what he’d taken. Or if he’d been abducted by aliens and replaced with a clone.
Either sounded plausible considering Hunter had never wanted to order cookies in the entire six years I’d known him.
Especially not after being weighed and measured.
I watched him constantly throughout the afternoon, keeping him in my field of view even when I was doing drills with the rest of the backs on the other side of the training pitch. I dropped the ball more times than I should have, earning me endless amounts of ribbing, but I didn’t give a shit.
Something was wrong with Hunter and I had to figure out what it was before all hell broke loose.
“What do you wanna do this evening?” Hunter asked as we climbed into the car a couple of hours later. Technically it wasHunter’s car, but we were both on the insurance and we split the costs between us, so it was practically ours. I’d thought about getting my own, but it was so much easier to share. It wasn’t like either of us went somewhere without the other very often.
“Wasn’t planning on doing much,” I said. It was my turn to drive, which was annoying because I couldn’t keep my eyes on Hunter. “We haven’t watched the highlights of the Bath-Coventry match yet. Want to watch that?”
“Sure. Thought I might try a bit more crochet too. I want to see if I can make a few more squares. Then I want to try a scarf.” He hummed thoughtfully and I wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not.
Hunter had taken up crochet as a non-screen-based hobby—something gentle to keep his mind and body active without stress—and now we had a basket filled with wonky, brightly coloured squares on the floor by the sofa and another overflowing with yarn. We had more yarn than he’d ever be able to use, but I’d decided not to point that out.
“What are you going to do with all the squares?” I asked.
“Not sure. Maybe make a blanket?”
“Do you have enough? How do you even attach them together?”
He shrugged. “Don’t know. I guess you sew them? I’ll Google it. And if I want it to be bigger, I can always make more squares.” He pulled out his phone, scrolling idly and typing now and then. From my quick glances in his direction, it almost looked like he was messaging someone. But I knew if I asked, it would make me look like some overbearing, controlling boyfriend.
As soon as we got home I threw myself into cooking dinner, hoping it would be enough of a distraction. The tight knot of anxiety that’d been sitting in my chest all day was really starting to irritate me because I couldn’t figure out what the hell wasgoing on. It felt like I was missing something, but I didn’t know where to start looking.
I wanted to keep asking Hunter questions, push him until he finally gave in and told me the truth. But that wouldn’t happen. Pushing him would only make him clam up more. Or he’d lie to me and tell me what he thought I wanted to hear.
It wasn’t that I didn’t trust him. I did. Or I wanted to. But I also knew when things were bad, Hunter struggled to control his thoughts. And it was those thoughts that would make him lie.
I just wanted him to be okay. I needed it more than anything. And if I couldn’t help him, then what good was I?
“Bailey.” Hunter’s voice was soft, his hand coming to rest gently on my hip. I hadn’t even realised he was behind me. “Bailey, please. I know something is wrong.”
“Nope, nothing’s wrong.”
“Really? Because you’ve been staring at me all afternoon and you’ve chopped those mushrooms so small they’re practically dust.”
I glanced down at the pile of chestnut mushrooms in front of me. Hunter’s description wasn’t far wrong. “Sorry, just… thinking.”
“What about?”
“Not much. The Cardiff match we’ve got coming up. They’ve got a new coach.”
“Liar.” There was a shaper edge to his tone and his fingers tightened.
“They have. They fired Osborne at the end of last season,” I said, deliberately ignoring Hunter’s point as I threw the tiny cubes of mushroom into the pan.
“Don’t be a twat. You know that’s not what I meant.”
I shrugged. “I don’t know what else to tell you.”
