Page 20

Chapter 20

Hunter

“Joey, let’s go.”

“Coming,” she calls through the closed door of the hotel room. A moment later, she curses, her voice more muffled, as if she’s turned around.

Sione and I have been waiting in the hallway for nearly five minutes. I shoot him an apologetic look, but he just smiles assuredly back at me.

A crash resounds from inside the room. Ouch. That sounded painful.

“Is she always like this?” Si muses.

“Honestly? No. I have no idea what’s gotten into her.”

With a huff, my best friend swings open the door and shifts her clear backpack onto one shoulder. “Ready.”

She’s wearing wide-leg jeans and a fitted bright red crop top, her hair plaited in two French braids.

“Where’s your lanyard?” I ask.

She slaps a hand to her chest and squeaks. “Shit on a crumbly cracker. Hold on…” She whips around and disappears, only to reemerge a few seconds later, lanyard in hand. “Okay. Now I’m really ready,”

“After you,” Sione insists.

As Joey and I head toward the exit, he discreetly checks that the hotel room door is truly closed and locked.

I link my arm with my best friend’s as we walk, giddy to experience this occasion with her.

The NFL Combine is a multi-day event. Yesterday, Kendrick got registered, completed a physical, and attended a mixer with other running backs hoping to be drafted. Today, he’ll be on the field showing out, and tomorrow’s events will take place in the weight room.

He was vibrating with excitement at the end of day one. Earlier this year, there was genuine concern he’d have to answer to criminal charges ahead of the draft. He took the fall for Locke when he was in a tight spot, despite knowing how it could affect his future.

Thankfully, no charges were ever brought up. I never pushed Joey for information, so I couldn’t say whether it all worked out or whether Kylian took care of it quietly in a way only Kylian can.

Joey’s cohort is a force, that’s for damn sure. Between Cap’s money and connections and Kylian’s hacking skills and resourcefulness, they excel at getting shit done.

I’m so happy for Kendrick. I love seeing him in his element. We’ve heard his name whispered dozens of times since the weekend started. He’s clearly one to watch. He’s the running back to beat and a top draft pick contender.

Despite how incredibly this event is going for him, nerves and frenetic energy roll off Joey in waves.

“Babe. You have to chill the fuck out,” I tell her, going for playful as we stride down the concourse of the stadium.

She whips her head around, her bright blue eyes widening. “Fuck. I know. I’m sorry. I’m trying, I swear.” With a long breath in, then back out, she gives her head a little shake.

Flovely .

I didn’t intend to make her feel bad. I thought she would laugh it off or sass me back, then finally relax a smidge. Clearly, she needs more than quippy banter in this moment.

Interlocking my fingers with hers, I give them a squeeze. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. What’s going on?” I don’t let go of her as we search for the seats Kylian assures us are the best to view Kendrick today.

Plopping into a seat, Joey releases a long, tortured sigh.

Sione, who followed several strides behind us, giving us privacy, coasts his hand down my arm, startling me. “I’m going to sit a few rows back, if that’s okay.”

I turn to take him in over my shoulder. “Are you sure?”

His reassuring smile is as brilliant as it is sincere. Gosh, I love this man. My period started two nights ago, and he’s been over-the-top attentive in caring for me. His calming presence has been felt and appreciated by both Joey and Kendrick this weekend as well. He even performed reiki on Kendrick last night as a way to help him recover and mentally prepare for today.

With a nod, Sione explains, “She needs you. I’ll be right up there. I’ll join you when the timing feels right.”

I settle in beside my friend, worrying my lip as she fights back tears and focuses on the field. “Talk to me.”

Without taking her eyes off the synthetic turf, she finally says, “I can’t stop thinking about Decker. He was supposed to be here, too.” Head lowered, she slumps, defeated.

“Joey.” I wrap my arms around her, pouring all my love into the awkward sideways hug. “It’s not your fault.”

“But it is. I’m literally the reason he’s not going pro,” she retorts.

Fair. Decker upended his entire life last semester when he held a press conference and outed himself for using prohibited substances to enhance his performance on the field.

The truth is that he wasn’t the one using. And the people who were using peptides—Kendrick and Locke, who both suffer from chronic illness and pain—needed those therapies to stay well. By drawing the attention to himself, he ended his father’s reign over his life and effectively absolved the others from ever having to deal with the fallout.

It was Decker’s choice in the end, no one else’s. His Big Decker Energy took control, and he did what he deemed necessary for those he loves.

Their lives are better, safer, because of it. It was the right thing to do for himself, for her, and for their cohort. Joey must understand that.

“Decker went into that press conference with his eyes wide open. He chose you. He loves you. There’s no way he’d give you up or change the course of the last few months for anything, least of all football. If you called him right now and asked him, he’d tell you the same thing.”

She sniffles, then cracks her knuckles in her lap. She’s quiet for a long moment, but eventually, she whispers, “I know you’re right. But I still can’t shake this feeling.”

Little by little, guys take to the field. There are hundreds of them, all dressed in fitted athletic shorts and cut-off shirts with initials and numbers across the front. Thankfully, the stadium is covered by its retractable roof today. Kendrick and Kylian researched it in advance to ensure he didn’t need to request an accommodation, since sun exposure affects his chronic illness.

Whistles blow on the field, and after half a second of silence, a cacophony of sound and excitement rings out. Anticipation and eagerness zip through the air like lightning. The entire stadium develops a heartbeat, the field pulsating with energy.

I don’t care about any of what’s happening on the field, though. Right now, all I care about is Joey. I’m singularly focused on my best friend. I’d do anything to take away her pain.

Bumping my shoulder into hers, I try to keep her talking. “Don’t leave me hanging, sister. What can’t you shake?”

She sniffs again, scrubbing at her cheeks, and sighs. “The feeling that Decker’s going to wake up one day and realize he gave up everything he ever wanted, and in return, all he got was me.”

My chest aches so painfully I have to fight the urge to rub at the spot. Her despair is so deep, it sinks into the marrow of my bones. The idea that Decker could ever regret anything when it comes to his wife is preposterous. He loves her so deeply. His devotion is what romance books are made of, dammit.

Though I’m relatively certain this isn’t really about Decker or what he gave up.

This is about Joey. About the value she puts on herself.

Levi is similar in that respect. He retreats into himself when he’s worried he’s not worthy. His insecurities and the lack of stability and love he experienced as a child still inform his view of himself and his sense of value among our group.

I rise to my feet and plant my hands on my hips. When Joey lifts her head to meet my gaze, I give it to her. “Josephine Crusade, you are the motherfucking prize. Decker didn’t sacrifice his dreams for you; he leveled up, and he damn well knows it.”

The smallest hint of a smile tugs at one side of her mouth. But then she schools her expression, shakes her head, and shifts her gaze back to the field. “Sit down.”

“Nope.” I pop the P for emphasis. “I can’t. Sorry. I won’t sit down until you claim your crown, queen.”

“ Hunter .”

“Josephine.” I offer her my most saccharine smile. “You’re the prize, babe. Say it with me. You’re the motherfucking prize.”

She buries her face in her hands and shakes her head.

“Come on,” I encourage, grabbing her wrist and dragging her to her feet.

“Say it. Say it. Say it .”

She huffs, her expression pure annoyance. “Hunter.”

This song and dance again? Fine.

“Josephine.” I refuse to give up on her. Not now. Not ever.

“Jojo!”

In unison, we turn to the field.

Kendrick is in front of the section where we’re seated, shifting from leg to leg as he stretches.

“K!” I call out, waving obnoxiously despite being just a dozen rows back. “Tell this woman she’s a prize.”

His brows shoot up, his gaze scorching as he takes in his woman. “You’re not a prize, Mama. You’re the fucking prize. Now get down here and let me see you.”

Joey shoots me an incredulous look, then schools her features, dabs at her eyes, and jogs down the stairs.

With a spring in my step, I follow.

By the time I reach her at the railing, she’s leaning over it, grinning as Kendrick whispers in her ear. They exchange quiet I love you s before she pulls away—but apparently, Kendrick’s not done with her.

“Mouth,” he demands.

She obeys quickly, and when she bends down again, he grips her face and kisses her in earnest.

“My favorite fucking prize,” he murmurs before he pulls away.

By the time she rights herself, she’s grinning from ear to ear.

Mission accomplished.

Linking arms once more, we take the stairs back toward our seats. Sione watches our every move. His calm, steady gaze is a gentle caress. I make eye contact and give him a small smile, but he doesn’t make a move to join us just yet.

“Today is Kendrick’s day,” I remind my best friend as we slip back into our row. “You get to be here for him, so really be here, babe.”

She pulls me in for a hug. “You’re right. Why the hell are you always right?” As she releases me, she gives me a smirk, though the expression quickly softens. “You’re my best friend, Hunter. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Right back atcha, babe.”