Until You Loved Me

Bruiser fingered the Fu Manchu mustache he’d grown this season; he’d said he wouldn’t shave it off until they won the Super Bowl. “Not sure my wife’s gonna be willing to move out here. I told you that.”

“We’ll see,” he responded as if he wasn’t worried in the least.

His friend’s eyebrows rose. “You think you can convince her?”

“I do. Jacqueline’s a real softy. Once she meets some of the boys and realizes what a difference you could make in their lives, she’ll be all for spending the off-season here, at least for the next couple of years, until you have another baby or Brianne starts school.”

“Maybe.” He shrugged, relenting as easily as ever. Hudson had never met a nicer guy—not that he’d ever want to take Bruiser on when Bruiser was mad. Hudson had seen his friend pushed to that point only once, when a player from the opposing team nearly broke Hudson’s leg with a late hit. Bruiser went after the dude, and it was all the refs could do to pull him off. From that day forward, everyone in the NFL knew that no one messed with Hudson if Bruiser was around to guard him. Hudson was Bruiser’s quarterback, the man he defended, and he took that seriously. That was part of the reason they were doing so well this season. Hudson had been safe in the pocket, and that had resulted in a high percentage of completions.

“So...you got a beer?” Bruiser asked.

Maggie, the housekeeper Hudson had hired when he bought the house, kept the place clean and well-stocked. She lived in the guesthouse at the back corner of the property and made sure the gardeners did their job and the house was ready whenever Hudson decided to come home. Once he arrived, she stayed in her own place unless he was there for an extended visit and needed help with meals or laundry. He paid her a monthly salary whether she did much work at the main house or not, so she didn’t mind that he preferred his privacy to having her wait on him. “I’ve got a fridge filled with Bud Light, Heineken, Sam Adams, you name it,” he said. “Want to play a game of pool after we grab a cold one?”

“Only if you’re ready to get your ass kicked.”

Hudson grinned. He and Bruiser had never played before. Bruiser hadn’t been on the team that long. They’d just grown close very quickly. And Hudson didn’t have a table at his LA house. “Any chance you’d be willing to put your money where your mouth is?”

He could see Bruiser contemplating the possibilities. “Come on,” Hudson said. “You’re a betting man.”

“Yeah, but I’d never bet against you,” Bruiser finally grumbled, his expression leery.

“Too bad. I suck at pool,” Hudson said and proved it by losing twice in a row.

“Shit,” Bruiser drawled. “I should’ve taken that bet. I could be fleecing you right now.”

Hudson rested his pool cue on the ground. “I’ll give you another chance. We could play a third game. Put a thousand bucks on it.”

Bruiser seemed tempted, then narrowed his eyes. “You think you’re clever, don’t you? Forget it. You’re not sharking me.”

Once Hudson started laughing, he almost couldn’t stop—especially when Bruiser beat him a third time. “You weren’t sharking me,” his friend complained. “You do suck at pool. You’re just damn good at mind games!”

Hudson cocked his head. “We could bet on a fourth match...”

“You little shit!” Although it took some effort, and they were both breathing heavily from the exertion of wrestling by the time it was over, Bruiser eventually managed to heft Hudson over one massive shoulder and carry him through the open doors of the game room to the patio beyond, where he proceeded to throw him in the pool.

“You were only able to do that because I let you,” Hudson called out, laughing and wiping the water from his face as he surfaced.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m getting another beer.” With a careless gesture, Bruiser went back inside. But he returned with a towel as well as two beers and sat on a nearby chair while Hudson dried off.

“It’s nice out here,” Bruiser said, gazing at the gold and lavender hues of the fading sun. “I could get used to this.”

“Quiet, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Glad we have a bye this week. I like getting away from the city, especially midseason, when we’re so busy. Sometimes, with all the traffic and the noise—everyone blathering on about their opinions, the phone ringing and the TV rattling the walls—it feels as if I can’t hear myself think. But this...this is almost as though we put LA on pause.”

Hudson dropped onto a lounge chair not far away. With an average high of eighty degrees in October, the weather was fairly mild in Silver Springs. But the temperature was dropping as night came on, and he was wet. Trying to conserve his body heat, he rubbed his head vigorously to dry his hair. He didn’t want to catch a cold, but he also didn’t want to go in. He, too, was enjoying sitting outdoors and watching the sunset. “You’re not getting tired of the game, are you?” he asked.

“I could never get tired of the game,” Bruiser replied. “But all the stuff that goes with it? Yeah. And I don’t have to do half the shit you do. Don’t know how you keep your sanity.”

After wrapping the towel around his shoulders, Hudson popped the top off the beer Bruiser had brought out for him. “Other than New Horizons, work’s all I’ve got. I prefer to stay busy.”

Bruiser rested his elbows on his spread knees. “Any word from that private detective you hired a few weeks ago?”

Hudson wasn’t sure he wanted to talk about this, wasn’t sure why he’d ever confided in Bruiser about it. He was so conflicted about the whole thing, he hadn’t told anyone else, and it’d taken him years to make the decision. He’d been hoping Bruiser would talk him out of it, he supposed, show him how useless it was. But his friend hadn’t even tried. He’d been as hopeful as Hudson was sometimes tempted to be—and quietly supportive, like always.

“Not yet,” Hudson said. “I might call him off, to be honest. Drop the whole thing.”

“Why? You searched and searched the internet for the ideal guy. He has all those great reviews on his website, right? What can it hurt to let him do his job? See what he finds?”

“Chances are he won’t find anything. The police never could.”

“Then you’ll have to live with the past, but at least you tried.”

“What if it goes the other way? What if he solves it, comes up with an answer?”

Leaning back, Bruiser crossed his ankles. “You don’t have to act on the information unless you choose to.”

Hudson took a long pull on his beer. “Will I be able to stop myself? Sometimes it’s safer not to know.”

“The reality can’t be any worse than what you’re imagining.”

“Who says? It could be like Pandora’s box—better not to open it.” That was what had kept him from searching before. “Even if I track down whoever abandoned me, what will I say? ‘Thanks for nothing’? And because of my fame—and money—how will I know they’re being sincere if they say they’d like to be part of my life? I’m at the peak of my career. Almost everyone wants a piece of me.” But not always for the right reasons. That was why he missed the woman he’d met at Envy. He’d tried dating since but had been disappointed by his options. The brief flashes of attraction he’d experienced had been with women who hadn’t come off as half as honest.

Bruiser’s dark eyes blazed. “You have plenty to offer without the money and without the fame,” he said as if he was angry Hudson would suggest otherwise.

“Maybe so. But we’re talking about someone who left me to die under a hedge. What do you expect that type of person will want? Help paying the bills? A new car? Or connecting on a meaningful level?”

“Listen, I’m the last guy who’d ever want to see you get hurt.”

Hudson grimaced. “I’m not saying I could get hurt, exactly.”

“Oh, cut the macho bullshit,” Bruiser said, waving him off. “It’s me you’re talking to. What you’re after could be devastating, and I know it. That’s what you’re afraid of. Well, it’s my job to protect you, and that doesn’t disappear once we’re off the field. You’re like a brother to me. But you need to know what this PI might be able to tell you. You’ve needed to know for a long time—maybe always—to answer all the questions in your mind and put your issues to rest.”

Hudson challenged him with a pointed glance. “My issues?”

Unrepentant, Bruiser grinned. “Yeah. You’ve got more than a few.”

“That makes me feel better. Thanks.”

At the unmistakable sarcasm, Bruiser lifted his beer. “You can always count on me to be honest.”

“Now might be a good time to tell you I could’ve kicked your ass at billiards in at least three of those games. A guy doesn’t own a table without being able to play.”

Cursing and laughing at the same time, Bruiser shook his head. “I knew it. Least I didn’t fall for your act.”

Hudson tipped his drink in his friend’s direction. “No, you didn’t.”

“Asshole.”