Page 138 of Off Limits: The Firsts

“Noted.”

Hunter

Dad: Such a waste to have ability and potential and refuse to use it.

Dad: Disgraceful. Absolutely disgraceful.

Dad: You get a chance that should’ve been your brother’s and that’s how you play?

Dad: You’re lucky they don’t boo you out of Jersey when you get home.

I stare at the texts. At the criticism and negativity and am reminded, as I am after every game, how I’ll never be Jonah.

How I’ll never live up to my father’s standard of perfection even when I bust my ass day in day out and he criticizes from the sidelines.

With a swipe of my thumb, I clear the display. I know the words will eat at me as I fall asleep tonight.

Sleep.

That’s what I want. To fall into an oblivious sleep and to put this fucking piss-poor night behind me. To try and forget. Just fucking forget.

I take a glance around the locker room. Most of the team has cleared out by now. Thank God they left me alone after Jünger’s dress-down. I’m in no mood to talk to them, or anyone, so I head to the back tunnel just like he suggested and hope everyone continues to stay away.

Dekker

“I had a feeling you’d be coming through this side of the tunnel,” I say the minute I see Hunter walk out of the doorway. His head is down, his sweatshirt hood pulled out to shadow his face, and his posture can either read absolute defeat or unfettered anger.

Or a mix of both.

His feet falter as he stands in the middle of the tunnel. We’re in the bowels of the arena, and there is no one in sight but the two of us.

He lifts his gaze to meet mine and words, emotions, everything seem to fall when they do. He looks beaten down and confused, and I want to reach out and hug him, even though I know that’s so inappropriate. It’s like the fire in him from earlier this morning has been extinguished, snuffed out.

We stare at each other in the dim light for longer than we should as a million things I should say come to mind and then fade. He won’t listen. It’d be unwanted, unheard, lip service.

And I have never given lip service to clients just to make them feel better, so why would I attempt to with him? If I lie to them about things we both know aren’t true, how would they ever trust me when it really matters?

“Leave it, Dekker.” His voice is a soft rumble as he walks past me.

“Hunter!” I hate the desperation that rings in my voice but can’t help it.

But he doesn’t stop.

He keeps on walking.

“That sigh of yours is heavy, Dekk. It always is when you’re overthinking things. What’s on your mind, kid?” My dad’s voice sounds like comfort coming through the line and as much as I’m frustrated at him, a smile turns up a small part of my lips.

“Are you trying to set me up?”

“What?” he asks. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

But I’m not being ridiculous.

It’s all I thought about as I wandered through the tunnels of the arena waiting for one of my clients on the opposing team to finish with his press interviews so I could have a quick check-in with him.

My conclusion was this. “I’m the only one of the four of us you sent to recruit, Dad. Lennox told me you haven’t given the rest of them clients to steal yet.”

“Because it’s not the right time.”