Page 54 of Fumble

“No! I just broke my fucking hand. And it should be that pudgy old prick’s face. He’s fired. He’s fucking dead.”

“No, he’s not.”

“What? You can’t be fucking serious right now! That’s sexual harassment. You could sue the shit out of him for a stunt like that.”

“You’ve already fought with him for saying something less than pleasant to me. You can’t fire him. He’ll know it’s because of me.”

“The fuck I can’t! I’ll fire the whole damn team if I see fit.” I reach out, tentatively cupping his injured hand in mine.

“Hunter. I love that you want to protect me, but I knew what I was getting into. If you raise any more suspicion, we’re going to have a problem. Where does the entire Seahawks’ staff think you are right now?”

“I don’t answer to anyone. He fucking assaulted you, Faith, and… and then you came to my room and let me fuck you.”

“You’re thinking with your cock instead of your head. I’m no one. I’m not worth jeopardizing everything for. I didn’t have sex with you because of what happened with Malcolm. I did want to forget about it, but I came to you because when I’m with you, I feel safe, wanted… seen. We had sex for all the right reasons, and it was amazing, but I can’t deal with being the reason everything falls apart for you.”

“Faith, the way he treated you wasn’t okay. It was so far from the realm of okay, I can’t begin to explain, and the fact that it was you cuts deeper than you’ll ever know, but I’d also be angry if he said those things to any female member of my staff. Fuckwits like him get away with it all the time. I don’t want him on my team. Can you understand that this is about more than you and me?”

“I guess.”

“I’ll deal with him later. Right now, I need to go to an emergency room. I seriously think I just broke my hand.”

“I’ll take you.”

“No, like you said, not worth jeopardizing everything for, right? I’ll have Murphy take me. Just go back to the hotel and wait for details on schedule changes.” My heart sinks. I didn’t mean that he wasn’t worth it.

“If that’s what you want?”

“Yep. Go and get Murphy. Tell him to have the car ready round back. I don’t need my idiocy caught on camera.” I have to force myself out the door, the thought of leaving him when he’s hurt—is physically painful.

I do as he asks and head back to the hotel with everyone else, making sure to stay as far away from Malcom as possible. If he hadn’t been giving me the stink-eye, none of this would’ve happened.

After an hour of climbing the walls of my hotel room, my phone heralds an incoming message. Hallelujah!

Hunter: Can you cancel appointments for the next two weeks?

Me: Are you okay?

Hunter: Broke 3 bones in my hand.

Me: OMG. What can I do?

Hunter: Cancel my schedule. About to go into surgery to fix this fucking mess.Will be flying back home for a few weeks after.

Me: Let me come to the hospital.

Hunter: No. I need you to organize the staff.

Me: Will I see you after?

Hunter: Yes.

Me: I’ll be thinking of you. I’m so sorry. This was my fault.

I see the dreaded flashing dots that let me know he’s typing, and then they disappear. Staring at the screen, I’m willing him to say something. This isn’t how I saw today ending. It takes everything inside me to do as he asks. Reporters will already be swarming the hospital parking lot waiting to find out what happened to their beloved NFL star.

Letting the staff know what’s going on serves as little distraction. It takes me a few hours to contact everywhere on the itinerary for the next few weeks to cancel Hunter’s appearances. The news channels are already running their version of the story. Thankfully, no one seems to know quite how he was injured. Once I have all my ducks in a row, and the staff is appraised of the situation, I convince myself that I should go and get Hunter’s bags from his suite and drop them at the hospital. It’s a thinly-veiled excuse to justify ignoring his request for me to stay away, but my heart’s in my stomach at the thought of him going under the knife.

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