Until You Loved Me

“My whole family,” he clarified.

The lump in her throat returned. Part of her desire to cry came from the usual hurt, but that wasn’t all of it. Despite their faults, she especially loved his parents, had welcomed them into her heart. “I’ll miss everyone,” she admitted.

“That’s the thing. You don’t have to miss them. I’m hoping we can remain friends.”

She shook her head. “I’m not sure I’m capable of that, Don. Not for a while, anyway.”

“Take a couple of weeks, then. But you could still be part of my life, of my family’s lives. To be honest, I think it would really help them accept Leo if they didn’t have to give you up at the same time. My mom’s having a big birthday party on the twenty-first. Why don’t you join us like you normally would? We’ll all three go together and explain that...that you understand the pressure I was under and sympathize with what I was going through, and—”

“You want me to help smooth things over with your folks?” she broke in, stunned. “Help them accept Leo?”

He didn’t get a chance to answer before she rolled her eyes in disgust. “Unbelievable,” she said and closed the door.

* * *

“Hey, man, don’t beat yourself up. We’ll get ’em next time.”

Hudson could barely keep from snarling as his left guard rested a ham-like hand on his shoulder before leaving the locker room. Will Hart, or Bruiser, as they called him, was a nice guy and had quickly become Hudson’s best friend since joining the team last spring. But Hudson wasn’t in the mood to hear any placating bullshit. He’d played the worst game of his life, had thrown not one but two interceptions and faltered in the red zone when he should’ve been able to convert. Although he’d had a few bright spots—one was when he’d scored on a thirty-six-yard keeper, putting the Devils on top for a short time—that last interception had sealed their fate. They’d been favored to win by fourteen points and would have if their quarterback hadn’t screwed up so badly.

A loud clang resounded in the now-empty room as he let his head fall back against the metal lockers. Why hadn’t he taken the sack? If he hadn’t tried to extend the play, to make something out of nothing, they might’ve won. He should never have thrown that last ball. He should’ve gone down and relied on his defense to ride out the final two minutes—a point the ESPN sports announcer had just made when she interviewed him, and she was right.

He could imagine what all the pundits would be saying in the next week. They’d question whether he’d been injured on the Dolphins’ first blitz, when he took such a hard hit from lineman Hap Palmer. Whether, after ten years in the game, he was losing his edge. Whether he’d become a detriment to his team.

Lifting the sweat-soaked Devils T-shirt he wore under his pads while he played, he peeled back his football pants to stare down at the bruise forming on his hip. That hit had been hard, but he couldn’t blame the injury for his poor performance. During the game, he’d had so much adrenaline pouring through him he’d barely felt the pain.

He regretted that was no longer the case. His hip felt like it was on fire.

“Fuck,” he muttered, leaning forward and hanging his head. Not only was he upset by his performance, he was worried. When he hadn’t been able to get hold of Aaron before the game, he’d called Aiyana Turner, the woman in charge of the boys ranch in Silver Springs. She’d told him Aaron wasn’t doing well, that he couldn’t keep any food down and was back in the hospital. She’d been scared—he could hear it in her voice—and that had scared him.

Would the news be even worse now?

He was afraid to find out, but he pulled his cell phone from his gym bag and called her, anyway. “Hey. How is he?”

“Better.”

The pain in his hip eased a bit as he drew in a deep, hopeful breath. “Yeah?”

“They’ve got him on an IV to make sure he’s getting the fluids he needs.” Aaron, like Hudson, didn’t have any parents, at least not reliable ones; Aaron had a mother in a halfway house somewhere. Aiyana did her best to look after him, the way she’d tried to look after Hudson when he’d been at New Horizons. With nearly three hundred students at the school, however, many of whom came from tragic situations—and eight boys she’d officially adopted over the years—one person could do only so much. That was the reason Hudson had finally purchased a home on the edge of Silver Springs three months ago, even though he already owned a place in LA—so during his off-seasons, he could mentor the boys at the ranch who needed someone most.

“Bet he loves having another needle in his arm,” he said. The poor kid had been through so much...

“So far, I’ve convinced him not to tear it out,” she said.

“Stubborn as he is, I’m sure that hasn’t been easy.”

“No. But we can talk later. He’s sitting right here, asking for the phone.”

“You’re at the hospital?”

“Yeah. I had some things to do earlier, but I came back around three.”

“Okay. Let me hear what he has to say.”

Aaron didn’t bother with hello. “Seriously, man? Two interceptions? What happened?”

The relief Hudson felt at the pique in Aaron’s voice—irritation he wouldn’t feel if he was too sick—put the loss, and his own poor performance, into perspective. Maybe the kid really was doing better. “Had a bad game, dude.”

“I saw that. I hope you know you owe me twenty bucks.”

Hudson straightened. “I do? Why?”

“I bet a friend the Devils were going to win, damn it!”

“Watch your language.” Although he wasn’t upset by a few curse words—he said and heard worse on a daily basis—he was the kid’s mentor.

He couldn’t inject any real sternness in his voice, though.

“Damn? You think that’s a swear word?” Aaron asked.

Perhaps he was being a little ridiculous, but he had to send the right signals. “It is a swear word. And Aiyana’s sitting there, too.”

“She doesn’t care.”

“Yes, she does. Show some respect. You shouldn’t be betting on games in the first place.”

“Why not?” he demanded.

“Because you’re not old enough to gamble!”

“But I may not live until my seventeenth birthday!”

Those words pulled Hudson back to reality, helped check his emotions. Aaron sounded better today, but what would tomorrow bring? “Don’t say that. You’re going to be fine.”

“Chances are I won’t be fine. You need to be prepared.”

“I’m not listening to that.”

“Just because you don’t want to face it doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. Sometimes I think you’re more afraid of death than I am.”

Hudson wasn’t afraid of his own death, but he was afraid of Aaron’s. He was more than afraid; he was terrified. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“If you say so. Anyway, about that twenty bucks...”

“Forget it. I’m not paying that.”

“Why not? You’re loaded.”

Hudson had to smile. “Gambling often means losing. You need to learn what that’s like so you’ll think twice about doing it again.”