Thousand Yard Bride (22 page)

J
o immediately went
into crisis management mode. I suggested we try to stop the story from coming out, but Jo shot that idea down, reminding me that Benny had made sure to out us in public, at an event where he knew there’d be multiple cameras and video-recorded evidence.

When we got home Jo said she wanted to get to work on a statement we could release. My wife was one of the strongest people I knew, but I could tell she was having a hard time keeping it together.

Her voice shook as she said, “I’ll think of something, Hunter. Tomorrow, you can release your statement. What that will say . . . well, I don't know yet. I just need to focus. See you in the morning.” She turned away and headed to the office I’d made for her.

Just before she closed the door, I said, “Wait.”

Her hand froze on the knob. “What is it?”

I didn’t have any idea how to fix our situation but I did want to make her feel better, so I did the only thing I could think of—I put my hand around the small of her back, pulled her toward me, and kissed her long and slow and deep, as reassuringly as I knew how. “If only people knew how we felt about each other,” I told her.

Our bodies met, meshing in spite of how her pregnancy created a ball between us. Locks and keys come in all shapes and sizes, ours still worked no matter if it had been warped. "Even if they knew," she said softly, "they wouldn't care. Gossip doesn't take into account if there's love involved in a scandal."

With a final kiss on the corner of my mouth, she went into her office and shut herself away.

I grabbed a beer from the fridge, digging for a bottle opener. As I popped the cap, I saw my phone flashing on the counter. I’d put it on silent because of all the calls and texts I was getting from reporters.

Jo had told me not to say a word until she could write a formal statement and come up with a strategy. I didn't even take a call from Reese—I was sure he was beating himself up, but I had to be safe. Cautious.

However, when I saw that the call was coming from my parents’ land line, I knew I had to take it. I had to deal with my father before he got to Jo.

“Hello,” I said.

“Son, your mother and I need you to come to the house,” my father said sternly.

Sipping from the beer, I breathed out loudly. "Nope. Not happening."

“It's not an
option
, Junior. Come over now. We need to strategize how we’re going to preempt the fallout from your dirty secret splattering all over the place and taking us down with you.”

Snorting cruelly, I set my bottle down loudly. "Fuck. You don't even try to hide your real concerns anymore, do you?"

“Get in your car and drive your ass over to the house. And
do not bring Jo
.” He didn't let me reply, he simply hung up. Shaking my head, I drank deeply—so deep I almost choked from lack of air.

Dizzy, I wiped my mouth and tucked my phone away. "No," I said to the air. "I don't think I'll be doing any of that, Pops."

The next call came from a number I didn't recognize. I didn't answer, expecting another voice mail. Instead, a new message popped up.

Unknown: This is Aldous. I know you, sir. I know you're too angry to come here at your father's request. Listen. You have to do this.

Uknown: Ignoring him is worse.

Unknown: For all of you.

The ripple in my heart kept going, soaring through my veins and muscles until I squeezed my phone in disbelief.
Aldous?
He must have overheard my father's plan.
Whatever it is, it must be serious.
The point was well made—even if I didn't want to listen to my dad, knowing what he was up to would be better.

I didn't want to bother Jo, so I left her a note on the coffee table telling her where I was going, that I’d be back soon, and that everything would be okay.

I hoped that wouldn’t turn out to be a lie.

* * *

I
rang
the doorbell and was greeted by Aldous, who looked more somber than usual. “Your parents are waiting for you in the dining room.”

“Thanks, Aldous.” Pausing, I added quietly, "For the heads up, too."

He put his hand on my shoulder. “Trust that everything will be all right.”

I nodded before making my way into the dining room. My father sat at the head of the table, a monster of dark wood and polished shine that could sit twenty people. His drink was nearly empty. My mother was standing with her arms crossed beside him.

The sight of them both, perched where they were and looking so serious, transported me back to my childhood. It wasn't a feeling I was fond of.

Steepling his fingers, my father sighed. "You came. Good. Do you know why I asked you here?"

“Because Benny had to get involved for some damn reason in my life, showing private messages to a crowd of socialites and media leeches, is what I’m assuming y—”

“This isn’t about that anymore,” he interrupted. “What’s done is done. This is about what we have to do next.”

“It’s under control, Dad. Jo is working on my formal statement right now.”

“No,” my father said. “She is not. Jo does not work for you anymore. As of this moment, she is officially fired. We will no longer require her services.”

“What? Are you crazy?” I couldn’t believe the nerve my father had. "It's because of her that we don't look
worse."

My mom spoke up. “Let your father finish, Hunter.”

He was a statue crafted from ancient leather and forgotten dreams, a man who was used to getting his way through force or charm. These days, mostly force. “There is only one way to handle this, Junior. Jo was hired to help you save your image, now she has destroyed it. Your credibility is ruined. You realize how bad you look? In order to fix this, you have to abandon ship and save yourself."

My lips stretched until they were a stunned frown. “What do you mean? I’m not abandoning anything.”

“You will write your own statement," he said slowly, like I was an idiot. "You will say that the baby is not yours. You will say that Jo got pregnant with someone else and then seduced you. You will say that you found out the truth, but that she was blackmailing you. You will file for divorce, and then you will never see that woman again. My lawyers will take care of the rest.”

Tension raced down my spine. I barked out a laugh, palms coming down on the table hard. "Are you kidding? No—why am I even asking that? Of course you're serious." I looked to my mother. “And you, you're okay with this?” She didn't answer me. She wouldn’t even meet my eyes.

Perhaps I shouldn't have been shocked. After everything he'd done up to this point, my dad had always looked out for himself. Scorched Earth was the logical next step for him.

With a dangerous calmness, I said, “The baby is mine. That’s your grandson you’re talking about.”

He barely moved, he could have been a corpse. “I said my lawyers will take care of it. Jo can move to a new city, make a new life, and become someone else's problem.”

“She’s not a damn problem." I smacked the table again; my mother twitched. "She’s my wife. I
love
her."

“You love her.” His lips curled at the corners, then he started laughing. “I knew you were irresponsible and foolhardy, but I never took you for an actual idiot. Do you know what you’re risking if you don't save yourself? You’ll be finished.”

“We’ll just tell the truth, then. That we slept together. That we faked being together. And that we ultimately fell in love.”

Throwing back his head, he guffawed. There were tears in his eyes; I'd never seen him cry before, not from sadness or joy. “You think the press will believe that crap?”

“It’s the truth,” I said, biting the words off one by one.

He slammed his fist down on the solid wood—that time, I was the one to startle. “It sounds like a damn fairytale, but Benny was right, you're no fucking prince. Do you agree to fire Jo and release our statement?”

“No. I won’t do that to her. Not ever.”

Finishing his drink, he coughed into his fist. Gathering himself, he said, “You might reconsider that. If you do not agree to my terms, you will no longer play for the Hawks. I’ll draft your release paperwork in the morning.”

There. This was what Aldous was warning me about, why he'd insisted I come.

I was grateful I'd listened. I finally knew how far my father would go to have his way. I'd always hoped he'd see my worth someday and treat me better. Respect me. That maybe he wasn't all bad.

I knew better, now.

“You would cut me from the team? Out of spite?” I asked.

“I would cut you because I can’t have a player with your reputation on the Hawks. It makes the whole team look bad. Furthermore, I will cut you off financially because I will not have a son like you living off of me any longer.”

Cocking my head, I considered him for a long moment.

He shifted to the side, my stillness unnerving him. "What are you doing?" he demanded.

"I'm memorizing this. I want to be able to look back on this, reliving it, just to remind myself how
good
it felt." Slow and steady, I flipped him off with a smile. "Fuck off, Dad. Thanks for making this easy."

As I started walking away, he shouted after me. “Think about it, Junior! Is Jo really worth losing everything for?”

Aldous was standing by the door. He gave me a tiny smile, something just for me. Glancing back at my parents, I saw them watching me with mixed emotions. My father was pushing his furious glare to the limit, while my mother looked plastic and distraught.

My voice came out light and easy. "Yeah. She is worth losing everything for."

No one stopped me from leaving.

No one could have if they'd tried.

W
hen Hunter came
through the door, I was halfway to getting my bloated foot into my sneaker, and halfway to calling Lanie for help. I'd found his letter and known that going to see his father was a fucking bad idea.

The look in his eyes when he approached me where I was sitting on the floor, sneaker in hand, made me freeze. "Hunter," I said carefully, "What happened?"

Sitting beside me, he worked my shoes off. Gentle fingers massaged my toes, making me groan helplessly. "It's good that you're already sitting. This news would knock you on your ass."

"Uh huh," I chuckled, twirling a finger. "Rub those toes and keep talking."

"My father asked me to lie to the world about the baby being mine." His words made me nauseous, the way he caressed my sore heels did the opposite. "Not shocking, I guess. It was his
great
idea for how I could escape this life with you."

There were tingles going up my calves. Everything he said was depressing, but the way he said it, I didn't need to ask what he'd decided. Hunter was an open book to me. Still . . . "Tell me," I whispered. "Tell me what your answer was."

His eyebrows shot up, his smile fading. "Ouch. Can't you guess?"

I bit my tongue lightly. "I want to hear it."

Digging his thumbs into my foot-arch, he chuckled. "Greedy girl. I told him to fuck off. I told him you were worth losing everything in the world for and I fucking
meant
it."

Desperately I tried to sit up and kiss him; my stomach got in the way, Hunter bent over me and finished off the distance. We kissed on the floor, my bare feet stretching over the smooth wood.

Nuzzling him, I asked, "Does this mean I'm fired?"

His fingers rolled over my ear, exploring the outer curve. "Both of us. I don't think I'll be playing football anymore."

My heart stalled; I cupped his square jaw. "Oh. Oh no. He's going to kick you off the team?" Of course, there was always a catch.
He said he'd give everything up for me.
Now I understood.

“I’ve only played for three teams in my life," he said, talking more to himself than me. "High school, State, and the Hawks. I don’t know who else would even want me this late in the season.”

“Don't forget who you are,” I told him. “You’re your own brand. You’re the sexiest man alive who can catch a damn football like no one else. You work hard, you play hard, and you’ve got all the talent in the world. Own it.”

“Yeah, Jo, but it’s midseason. I’ll go from a star player to a nobody overnight.”

“Hunter Daniels Junior will never be a nobody," I said curtly. He squinted at me, searching my face. "What is it?"

"Could you not call me "Junior" anymore? Just Hunter is fine. I hate being connected to him in any fashion."

Nodding, I said, "How about just "Husband" then?"

His grin showed off his perfect teeth. "Even better."

Hugging him, I sighed softly. "Look, I know your dad fired me, but how about I do your P.R. pro bono?”

“What will we do about money though, Jo? He's cutting me off. I have some of my own, but—"

“We’ll figure it out,” I said firmly. “I’m not worried. As long as we’re together, it’ll be okay.”

His eyelashes brushed his cheeks—unfairly long and thick for a man. “I believe you.”

“Good,” I smiled. “I believe me, too.”

* * *

I
printed
out the statement I’d written for him and asked it if was alright. It admitted that we had faked our relationship for the sake of our careers but mostly for our baby. It said how we’d fallen in love. It said that my accidental pregnancy had turned out to be the best thing that had ever happened to us, and that we were committed to each other and to our future family.

The best part was, it was all true. Every word.

I texted Alicia Aster and told her to check her email if she wanted a head start on tomorrow’s big scoop, then sent the statement out to all the rest of my reporter contacts, and then finally turned off my computer.

I had no idea how the release would be received. People could take it or leave it. At that point, I was too tired to keep thinking about it.

The next morning greeted us with mostly bad news.

Hunter’s agent, Marty, called. Hunter had been officially cut from the team, his father hadn't been bluffing.

After he got off the phone, I gently asked, “Are you still with Marty, or did he drop you, too?”

“Marty’s a good guy. We’ve worked together for years and he knows that at the end of the day I can catch the ball and win games. Sports stats last longer than gossip stories.”

I nodded with relief. “That’s good to hear. See, most people are rooting for you, Hunter. Your father will regret cutting you."

Hunter hugged me tightly, giving me as much infused courage as possible. I needed it if I was going to face SportsFire today. There was a very real chance they'd fire me after hearing Hunter's father had cut me.

On my tired legs, I carefully swayed into the office. I didn't get far before my boss, Dan, pulled me aside. We were in full eye-shot of my coworkers while he tapped my shoulders, his voice gritty and curt. “You still have your job, Jo, but just barely. You need to land a new contract—and fast.”

Making myself smile was a chore. “I’ve actually been working on something for a little while.”

“I’m listening,” he said skeptically.

I took a breath and launched into the pitch I’d been rehearsing in my mind the past few weeks. “Have you heard of ClimbTime?”

“That hipster gym?” Dan asked.

“It’s not a hipster gym!” I exclaimed. “It’s a chain of climbing gyms, and yes, it attracts a younger crowd, but that’s because ClimbTime is great at what they do. It isn’t like other gyms. It’s . . . fun.” I sounded like I’d joined a fitness cult. “They promote feeling good and getting strong instead of losing weight or body shaming yourself, and they also make amazing workout clothes. They don't have P.R. representation, but they’re growing so fast now that they’re going to need it. The company’s opened thirty new gyms across the country in the last year alone, and their stock has been on fire. They need me. They just don’t know it yet.”

I finally stopped to breathe again, and when I checked for Dan’s reaction to my spiel, I realized he was still listening. Not only that, but he looked intrigued.

“You think you can land them?” he asked, his head tilting slightly.

“I’m going to try,” I said.

With a solid clap of his palm onto my upper arm, then down to my hand for a squeeze, he laughed. "Okay! Sounds good. Do your thing, Jo."

I was one giant smile as I left the office. Even my heartburn and hormones couldn't get me down. Hunter might have lost his position with the Hawks, but I still had the fire that had gotten me where I was.

We weren't beaten yet.

I went home for lunch, mostly to check on Hunter. When I got there, he was on the couch, drinking a beer.

“You don't look so good,” I said.

“I lost the Outside the Boxers deal,” he said.

I'd almost forgotten about that underwear company. “It’s their loss, Hunter. You’re going to come out on top of this thing. I just know it,” I told him. “Plus, now you can buy whatever underwear you want. I have a few ideas . . .” I trailed off, trying to be saucy.

Hunter wasn't going to be consoled. “I should be at practice right now, Jo. I’m a football player without a team. It hasn’t even been a whole day yet, and I’m lost.”

“It won’t be like this forever.”