Page 57 of Fumble

Chapter Seventeen

HUNTER

The minutewe landed in Nashville, Murphy took it upon himself to hand over my phone to Coop. What did Coop do? He turned the fucking thing off. The main reason being there were at least a hundred messages and texts from Malcolm, so I suppose I can’t blame him. I’ve been high as a fucking kite on pain meds, but I still know beyond a shadow of a doubt that Malcolm is fired. This has just been a stay of execution for him. If I’m ever in the same room as him again, I’ll rip his fucking head off.

“Your jaw is doing that crazy tick shit again.”

“Well, give me my fucking phone back, and I’ll fire Malcolm’s ass, and I can go back to not having a tick.”

“No. You’re supposed to be recovering.”

“Bullshit. You weren’t concerned about that when you poured me this scotch I’m not supposed to be drinking.” My best friend can be a smug asshole sometimes.

“Maybe I should drink that for you.” He reaches out only to be swatted away by my one good hand.

“I’ll make you a deal. Tell me what went down… the truth… and I’ll give you the phone to do with as you wish.”

My chest tightens at the thought of Faith, of what Malcolm did. Resigning myself to the fact that I need to tell someone before I explode, I start from the beginning. The warnings. The game. I have the good sense to be mortified at my behavior as I relay the events of past weeks.

“You dirty fuck-stick.”

“Shut up and just hear me out before you tear me a new one.” I throw back my scotch, holding my glass out in the universal refill request. When Coop is staring me down for being a dirty old man, I know I’ve fucked up.

Every detail sounds sordid as I say it out loud, which goes against everything I felt when I was with Faith. Rational thought went out the window as evidenced by my hand, now sporting some pretty serious pins. This would have ended my career if my knee hadn’t already taken care of that for me. I’m looking at months of rehab. No driving, no signing autographs, I don’t even know if I’ll be able to rub one out with my left hand. That sad realization makes me miss Faith a fuck-load more than I already do.

Sure, I miss her body. I was looking forward to exploring every inch of her. If the sex was that hot her first time, it would’ve been insane after a few weeks, but it’s more than a physical thing. She has this cute little snore. I wouldn’t tell her that because she’d be self-conscious about it, but it was so fucking sweet. The smell of her perfume. Her laugh. Fuck, her laugh is the most amazing sound. She has such a great sense of humor, and she’s not afraid to look silly. It’s so endearing. I even miss her verbal diarrhea. You find out a lot about someone when they can’t filter their thoughts. She doesn’t purposefully hold back. She’ll tell you straight.

And yet, the night we slept together for the first time, she didn’t think to tell me that she’d been assaulted by my manager. Now, I’m wondering if her sudden uncontrollable desire to sleep with me was because she was trying to forget what happened earlier in the day with Malcolm. It bothers me. I was so in the moment with her. There wasn’t a single thought in my head other than Faith—her body, her pleasure, her heartbeat, and her screaming orgasm. To think that she came to me that night with so much weighing on her, I’ll never know if she came to my suite because she wanted me or because she wanted to forget him.

I continue explaining myself to Coop, much to his dismay when I admit to sleeping with Faith.

“You fucked Coach’s daughter. How the fuck did you let yourself get into a situation like that?”

“She’s not just a quick lay. She’s…”

“Oh, fuck. You’re falling for this girl?”

“Can you just give me a break? This is hard enough already without your judgmental assholery.”

“So, you had sex. It was…”

“None of your fucking business.”

“But, something happened between then and you punching your hand through a wall. So, spill.”

“I knew something was up when I caught Malcolm staring at Faith like a piece of meat. The minute she saw him, she freaked and ran out of the conference room. I knew in my gut that I had to find her.”

“Get to the point.”

“She was holed up in some unlocked office, shaking like a leaf. She was sitting next to Malcolm on the flight the day before, and he’d been saying some brutal shit to her.”

“Okay. He’s a fuckwit, but your hand is not because of some smack talk.”

“He grabbed her between the legs.” All of a sudden, Coop is on the same page.

“I’ll fucking kill that little bastard myself. That’s Coach’s daughter. I will fuck him up.” I hold up my Frankenstein’s monster hand.

“Make sense now?”

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