Until You Loved Me

He suppressed a grin as he remembered the enthusiasm that had filled her voice when she talked about the moon. He’d never met anyone who viewed the universe and everything in it with such wonder. She didn’t know what small talk was. If the subject wasn’t meaningful in some way, she had no interest in it, and nothing seemed to be off-limits. He’d never had a woman probe his religious and political beliefs so thoroughly, not on a first encounter.

That could’ve been offensive, but he hadn’t been put off because she’d approached his opinions, especially on those subjects, with the respect and objectivity of a scholar, someone who was willing to take in new information and view things from a fresh perspective. He found nothing objectionable about that; he’d actually enjoyed the depth of their conversation.

She was questing and so damn smart—and yet she knew next to nothing about popular culture. Like the fact that he played professional football. His picture was on TV several times a week, especially during football season. His mug also appeared in practically every article written about the Los Angeles Devils. He’d feel guilty about not revealing himself if that weren’t the case. But with so much exposure, he figured she’d stood more than a fair chance of recognizing him. The truth was readily apparent to almost everyone else. He couldn’t walk through a restaurant without being stopped for an autograph.

Actually, maybe he should have felt a little bad for keeping his mouth shut on that subject. She wasn’t like most people. She’d admitted she didn’t watch much TV other than the Science Channel and knew next to nothing about sports. She hadn’t even argued when he’d teased her about not keeping up with the latest movies, musicians or fashion trends. While she could tell him a great many details about humanoid fossils that were being excavated in South Africa or why the body’s immune system responded to certain toxins or bacteria the way it did, she couldn’t tell him which actors or movies had won an Oscar last year.

“What should we do tonight?” Teague asked. “Want to go back to Envy?”

Would Ellie return to the club? Hudson doubted it. She wasn’t any more enamored with the bar scene than he was, wouldn’t have been there in the first place if not for her friends. She’d told him they’d insisted she go because they thought it would get her mind off her broken engagement.

Besides, if she wanted to see him, she knew where he was staying. Truth be told, he was hoping she’d come back. “No.”

“Why not, man?”

“I need to rest up for the game tomorrow.”

“Gotcha. That’s probably wise. Let’s hope it’s not true what they say...”

The salacious smile Teague shot him finally caught Hudson’s undivided attention. “About what?”

He started laughing. “Women weakening legs.”

“Even if we lose, last night was worth it,” he muttered.

“Wow. Never dreamed I’d hear something like that come out of your mouth. You care more about winning than any athlete I know.”

“Everyone cares about winning.”

“Maybe you should’ve gotten her number.”

“Maybe so.” Too bad she hadn’t given him the chance. He wasn’t hiding that because of his ego. He just didn’t feel like going into it. He was tired of making the effort to be social and couldn’t wait to retreat into the hotel.

“You’re up for contract next year, so...make sure you kick some Dolphin ass tomorrow. Okay, bud?”

Hudson didn’t want to be reminded of his upcoming contract negotiations, didn’t want to let what could happen get inside his head. It was one thing to play football with focus and purpose, another to play scared. Perhaps he was being superstitious, but he believed playing scared would get him hurt, and once he got hurt, he wouldn’t be worth a damn—to anyone. It was football that had given him a life; he knew where he’d be without it. “Right. I’ll be sure to do that.”

As Teague pulled in to the hotel, Hudson gestured toward the valet section under the portico. “You can drop me there.”

Teague checked the time on his expensive watch. “It’s only seven. Don’t you want me to come in with you? The restaurant here’s good. We could grab a bite to eat before you turn in for the night.”

“No, thanks. I’ll order room service.” A long soak in the jetted tub would help calm his mind and his body. The longer he remained in the league, the more banged up he became. The trick was not to let the aches and pains stop him from giving his best performance in every single game.

“Okay. I’ll send up a bottle of wine.”

“Don’t bother. I won’t be drinking tonight, either. But I appreciate the thought.”

Teague leaned forward to look up at Hudson as he got out. “Everything okay?”

Hudson rested one hand on the top of the car. “Yeah. Everything’s fine. Thanks for taking me out today. I’ll see you after the game tomorrow.”

“Hey, wait a sec. You seem...I don’t know, kind of remote.”

“Stop worrying,” he said and shut the door. He’d told Teague he was fine, and he was. Sure, he was a little lonely, but he could be lonely in a crowd. He’d never been like everyone else, never had the close connections parents and siblings provided.

His team was his family, he told himself. Except eventually, they all went home to their real families.

Maybe it had been a mistake to bring Ellie to his hotel. Being with her had assuaged that deep ache, and since she’d left, he felt the isolation more acutely than ever.

* * *

Leo was with Don, all right. Ellie could see him from her front window. He was sitting in the passenger seat of her ex-fiancé’s Chevy Volt when Don pulled into her drive at exactly seven o’clock.

“Punctual as ever.” She liked that he was never late, but that was about all she liked these days. She’d hoped he’d have the courtesy to show up alone. Having Leo there, watching this exchange, made her feel they were both laughing at her. You believed he loved you? Really?

Don didn’t approach the house right away. He sat in the car talking to Leo as though he wasn’t looking forward to confronting her.

Once he got out, she whispered, “You can do this,” to encourage herself and stooped to pick up Lulu, who’d just finished her dinner. The breakup had been difficult enough. Losing Lulu made it worse. Ellie had adopted Don’s pet as her pet, too. But he’d never part with Lulu. Not only was the cat a British Shorthair, one of the most expensive breeds in the world, she’d been a Christmas gift to Don from his mother two years ago. Ellie had no right to keep her, wasn’t even going to ask. She was just glad he hadn’t come into the relationship with kids. If she felt this destroyed over an animal, she could only imagine how she’d feel if she had to say goodbye to a child.

Warning herself not to allow this encounter to turn into an argument—what was the point of angry recriminations at this juncture?—she mustered as much dignity as she could and opened the door.

“Hey.” He wore a collared shirt, plaid shorts and sandals. He’d always been neat and clean and stylish. But he’d had someone other than Amy, who normally cut his hair, dye it black two days ago. Ellie thought he looked a little ridiculous, given the pale, almost-translucent shade of his skin and all those freckles.

Maybe Leo liked the new look.

She wished she could give Don a nonchalant hello, wished she could act as though he hadn’t hurt her so badly, but she couldn’t speak around the lump suddenly clogging her throat. So much for the mental exercises and clichés she’d employed to prepare for this moment. Time heals all wounds. This, too, shall pass. Everything happens for a reason. If we were meant to be together, we’d still be together. She couldn’t gain any perspective on their breakup; it was too soon.

Doing her best to imitate a polite smile, since she couldn’t conjure up a genuine one, she handed him his cat.

“Thanks for taking care of Lulu. You’ve been really kind to her.”

Ellie had been kind to him, too. Loved him. Trusted him. Planned to spend the rest of her life with him. The scent of his cologne brought back memories of curling up next to him on the couch while they watched a movie, hugging him before he had to leave, sidling closer at work just to catch a whiff.

Afraid he’d realize she was battling tears, she bent to pick up the box of his things she’d put by the door, which included Lulu’s feeding dish and cat toys. There was also a big sack of kitty litter she’d purchased so Lulu would have what she needed at both houses.

“Here, let me get that,” Don said about the box. “Just a sec. I’ll take Lulu out first.”

Ordinarily, she would’ve followed him when he went to the car so he wouldn’t have to return to the house. But she refused to approach Leo, who, on Thursday, had confided to Mary Jane Deets, a fellow scientist at the BDC, how distasteful Don had found it to sleep with her. How difficult it had been for both men to keep up the charade of friendship when she was the one who got to sleep with Don most nights.

Ellie wished Mary Jane had never mentioned that conversation. The last thing she wanted to hear was that making love to her had been an unpleasant chore. Sex required so much trust... She didn’t easily expose her body or her most sensitive and private self, which was why what she’d done last night had been so earth-shattering. Only because she didn’t know Hudson and would never see him again had she been able to let herself go.

The memory of his hands on her body helped her hold herself together. She had her own naughty secret. She wouldn’t be gauche enough to confide what she’d done to anyone at work, so Don would never hear about it. But she’d enjoyed making love with Hudson far more than she’d ever enjoyed making love with her ex. So what if Don had left her bed and returned to Leo’s? So what if they’d mocked her and laughed or said nasty things about how revolting it had been for him to touch her?

Fortunately, she managed to clear the lump from her throat by the time he came back.

“Thanks for gathering up all this stuff for me,” he said.

“No problem,” she responded. What other choice did she have? She wasn’t about to let him back in her house.

He looked as though he had something more to say but wasn’t sure how. So he took the box and stepped off the stoop.

Grateful she’d escaped with so little interaction, she started to close the door but paused when she heard her name.

“Leo and I would like you to know that we both feel terrible about how everything...you know...went down,” Don said.

In the first place, that was a terrible pun. In the second, she didn’t believe they felt bad. They both had places of their own and yet she’d caught them in her bed, simply because it was closer to work, more convenient for their tryst. That showed no respect, no concern for her at all. And now? They acted relieved, even happy that she’d provided the impetus for them both to come out. To be their true selves.

Everyone deserved that right. She had no problem with same-sex relationships; it was being used that bothered her. She felt duped, cheated. “Okay,” she said. “Good luck to both of you.”

“I mean it,” he insisted. “You’re a nice person. I know that.”

Of course he did. That was why he’d felt so comfortable taking advantage of her. He knew she wasn’t nearly as experienced when it came to romantic relationships as most other women her age. He’d preyed on that innocence and, somehow, she’d missed the obvious. “Thank you.”

He seemed surprised that he wasn’t eliciting more of a fight from her. There were so many things she wanted to say—and rightfully could say. But getting ugly wouldn’t change anything. Why make it possible for him to excuse his actions by claiming she was a bitch?

“I should’ve told you I was confused,” he added.

She tried to hold her silence but couldn’t let that go. “You weren’t confused. You just didn’t want your family to find out that you were really in love with Leo.”

“I was confused about how to handle it,” he clarified. “You don’t understand how much pressure I was under to be something I’m not. At least try to understand that we were both victims.”

Maybe that was true. As nice as his family was in so many ways, they had no business making him feel he was any less because of his sexual preferences. But she hadn’t been a victim until he told her he loved her and asked her to be his wife. As far as she was concerned, this situation could’ve had one less victim if only he’d been honest with her. “You told me more than once that you’d like a family,” she said.

He seemed startled by the change in subject. “I do!”

“Is that why you did it?” she asked. “Were you waiting for me to pump out a couple of kids before you revealed the truth?”

His eyebrows, dyed black like his hair, drew together. “No! How can you even think that?”

“Maybe because of the other lies you told me.” And practically speaking, while a plan like that was reprehensible and totally unfair to her, it was a much less expensive way to have children than paying for a surrogate...

“I knew how much my parents would like you,” he said.

“Your parents,” she repeated. Wouldn’t this have been the time to suggest he’d cared about her, at least a little?

“My whole family,” he clarified.

The lump in her throat returned. Part of her desire to cry came from the usual hurt, but that wasn’t all of it. Despite their faults, she especially loved his parents, had welcomed them into her heart. “I’ll miss everyone,” she admitted.

“That’s the thing. You don’t have to miss them. I’m hoping we can remain friends.”

She shook her head. “I’m not sure I’m capable of that, Don. Not for a while, anyway.”

“Take a couple of weeks, then. But you could still be part of my life, of my family’s lives. To be honest, I think it would really help them accept Leo if they didn’t have to give you up at the same time. My mom’s having a big birthday party on the twenty-first. Why don’t you join us like you normally would? We’ll all three go together and explain that...that you understand the pressure I was under and sympathize with what I was going through, and—”

“You want me to help smooth things over with your folks?” she broke in, stunned. “Help them accept Leo?”

He didn’t get a chance to answer before she rolled her eyes in disgust. “Unbelievable,” she said and closed the door.

* * *

“Hey, man, don’t beat yourself up. We’ll get ’em next time.”

Hudson could barely keep from snarling as his left guard rested a ham-like hand on his shoulder before leaving the locker room. Will Hart, or Bruiser, as they called him, was a nice guy and had quickly become Hudson’s best friend since joining the team last spring. But Hudson wasn’t in the mood to hear any placating bullshit. He’d played the worst game of his life, had thrown not one but two interceptions and faltered in the red zone when he should’ve been able to convert. Although he’d had a few bright spots—one was when he’d scored on a thirty-six-yard keeper, putting the Devils on top for a short time—that last interception had sealed their fate. They’d been favored to win by fourteen points and would have if their quarterback hadn’t screwed up so badly.

A loud clang resounded in the now-empty room as he let his head fall back against the metal lockers. Why hadn’t he taken the sack? If he hadn’t tried to extend the play, to make something out of nothing, they might’ve won. He should never have thrown that last ball. He should’ve gone down and relied on his defense to ride out the final two minutes—a point the ESPN sports announcer had just made when she interviewed him, and she was right.

He could imagine what all the pundits would be saying in the next week. They’d question whether he’d been injured on the Dolphins’ first blitz, when he took such a hard hit from lineman Hap Palmer. Whether, after ten years in the game, he was losing his edge. Whether he’d become a detriment to his team.

Lifting the sweat-soaked Devils T-shirt he wore under his pads while he played, he peeled back his football pants to stare down at the bruise forming on his hip. That hit had been hard, but he couldn’t blame the injury for his poor performance. During the game, he’d had so much adrenaline pouring through him he’d barely felt the pain.

He regretted that was no longer the case. His hip felt like it was on fire.

“Fuck,” he muttered, leaning forward and hanging his head. Not only was he upset by his performance, he was worried. When he hadn’t been able to get hold of Aaron before the game, he’d called Aiyana Turner, the woman in charge of the boys ranch in Silver Springs. She’d told him Aaron wasn’t doing well, that he couldn’t keep any food down and was back in the hospital. She’d been scared—he could hear it in her voice—and that had scared him.

Would the news be even worse now?

He was afraid to find out, but he pulled his cell phone from his gym bag and called her, anyway. “Hey. How is he?”

“Better.”

The pain in his hip eased a bit as he drew in a deep, hopeful breath. “Yeah?”

“They’ve got him on an IV to make sure he’s getting the fluids he needs.” Aaron, like Hudson, didn’t have any parents, at least not reliable ones; Aaron had a mother in a halfway house somewhere. Aiyana did her best to look after him, the way she’d tried to look after Hudson when he’d been at New Horizons. With nearly three hundred students at the school, however, many of whom came from tragic situations—and eight boys she’d officially adopted over the years—one person could do only so much. That was the reason Hudson had finally purchased a home on the edge of Silver Springs three months ago, even though he already owned a place in LA—so during his off-seasons, he could mentor the boys at the ranch who needed someone most.

“Bet he loves having another needle in his arm,” he said. The poor kid had been through so much...

“So far, I’ve convinced him not to tear it out,” she said.

“Stubborn as he is, I’m sure that hasn’t been easy.”

“No. But we can talk later. He’s sitting right here, asking for the phone.”

“You’re at the hospital?”

“Yeah. I had some things to do earlier, but I came back around three.”

“Okay. Let me hear what he has to say.”

Aaron didn’t bother with hello. “Seriously, man? Two interceptions? What happened?”

The relief Hudson felt at the pique in Aaron’s voice—irritation he wouldn’t feel if he was too sick—put the loss, and his own poor performance, into perspective. Maybe the kid really was doing better. “Had a bad game, dude.”

“I saw that. I hope you know you owe me twenty bucks.”

Hudson straightened. “I do? Why?”

“I bet a friend the Devils were going to win, damn it!”

“Watch your language.” Although he wasn’t upset by a few curse words—he said and heard worse on a daily basis—he was the kid’s mentor.

He couldn’t inject any real sternness in his voice, though.

“Damn? You think that’s a swear word?” Aaron asked.

Perhaps he was being a little ridiculous, but he had to send the right signals. “It is a swear word. And Aiyana’s sitting there, too.”

“She doesn’t care.”

“Yes, she does. Show some respect. You shouldn’t be betting on games in the first place.”

“Why not?” he demanded.

“Because you’re not old enough to gamble!”

“But I may not live until my seventeenth birthday!”

Those words pulled Hudson back to reality, helped check his emotions. Aaron sounded better today, but what would tomorrow bring? “Don’t say that. You’re going to be fine.”

“Chances are I won’t be fine. You need to be prepared.”

“I’m not listening to that.”

“Just because you don’t want to face it doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. Sometimes I think you’re more afraid of death than I am.”

Hudson wasn’t afraid of his own death, but he was afraid of Aaron’s. He was more than afraid; he was terrified. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“If you say so. Anyway, about that twenty bucks...”

“Forget it. I’m not paying that.”

“Why not? You’re loaded.”

Hudson had to smile. “Gambling often means losing. You need to learn what that’s like so you’ll think twice about doing it again.”

“I wouldn’t have to know that if you’d been yourself out there today. I still don’t understand how you let the game get away from you. What was going through your mind when you threw that last pass, man? What did you think you were going to be able to do while you were falling backward?”

He’d been trying to take control of something—trying too hard, in retrospect—because he couldn’t control what was happening to Aaron, couldn’t even be with him when the boy needed to go to the hospital. “We all have bad days.”

“Yeah, well, give me a heads-up when you’re out of sync next time so I can bet on the opposite team, will ya?”

Hudson promised himself he’d never self-destruct in another game, especially one Aaron was watching. The boy needed something to smile about. Instead of giving him that, he’d panicked and let fear undermine his concentration. “You’ll never get a call like that from me, because it’s not going to happen again.”

“Good. So when will you be home?”

“Team’s flying out tonight at eleven-fifteen.” They had a chartered flight via one of the major airlines, with the Boeing 757 reconfigured to contain half as many seats as usual. It even had eighteen beds to fit the large bodies typical of football players, plus massage therapists, big-screen TVs for gaming and a smorgasbord of food catered by a local restaurant.

But since they’d lost, the mood on this evening’s flight would be subdued. Hudson wasn’t looking forward to spending five hours cooped up in a plane with his teammates, especially since he was to blame for today’s loss.

“Hey, are you going to get showered? The bus is waiting.” Bruiser was back, all six feet eight inches and 370 pounds of him. No one else would dare try to roust Hudson. The fact that Hudson had done his interviews before he’d even taken off his uniform told them he was in no mood to be bothered.

“Be there in ten,” he muttered.

Bruiser looked as though he was tempted to stay until Hudson proved his words by heading for the showers, but he didn’t. After giving him a skeptical once-over, he left.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” Aaron asked on the phone.

Hudson returned to the conversation. “Yeah. I’ll come by the hospital.”

“No need. They’re going to release me.”

“When?”

“Tonight. Doctor said so. I’m gonna be okay, Hudson. For now, anyway. So quit fretting like a little girl. It was just a bad reaction to the meds.”

Chuckling at the “little girl” comment and ignoring the “for now,” Hudson finally stood up and pulled off his shirt. “Then I’ll come see you at New Horizons.”

“Will you be up for the drive?”

The town of Silver Springs, population five thousand, was between ninety minutes and two hours northwest of LA, but once he broke free from the big-city traffic, the drive wasn’t too bad. Hudson made it often. Ojai, where the hospital was located, wasn’t much farther—if, for some reason, Aaron wasn’t released as planned. “’Course I will.”

“Maybe you should stay in the city and get some rest. You were hit pretty hard at the start of the game. I saw how slow you got up. And you don’t have a lot of time to recover. You’ve got the 49ers next weekend.”

Fortunately, that game was at home. The travel during the season was the biggest nuisance of Hudson’s job. “I’ll be fine,” he said and believed that would be the case, as long as Aaron was, too.

After saying goodbye, he hung up and hurried over to the showers.

When he eventually boarded the bus, Hudson was mildly surprised that so many of his teammates made an effort to rally behind him. Once he’d returned from his interviews, they’d given him space, quietly showered, dressed and left the locker room, allowing him time to cope with his frustration and disappointment. But now they were offering their support.