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I press my forehead against her nape while I hold her close. My hands stroke up and down her back. She nuzzles my shoulder, her eyes closed, looking as if she’s sleeping. Seth, Lucas, and Alex look like they’re dozing. But I—I cannot sleep. I feel wide awake, like I’m seeing things for the first time in a very long time. I can’t stop touching Rachel, nor do I want to. I want to reconnect with her. I want her to stay with me here, in Chicago.
How can I ask that of her? Especially when she’s still finishing school.So selfish, I think while glancing over my shoulder at my closet, feeling the call of the bottle. I steel myself. I can’t take a drink now, with everyone in my room. I have to wait until everyone is gone, or at least until I am alone in my room.
My gaze returns to Rachel and guilt strikes me through the heart. What will she say if she discovers my secret? Will she leave me? Will she even want to stay with a drunk idiot? I frown and stroke her hair away from her face, already suspecting the answer.
Chapter 20
RACHEL
Myeyesflutteropenand I smile, seeing Hunter’s beautiful sleeping face next to mine. Yesterday was amazing. After our… activities, he took us around town, showing us Soldier Field and the Field Museum. Afterward, we went out for Chicago style pizza. I wouldn’t really call it pizza, though. More like a huge savory pie, but it was delicious. Everything seemed perfect. He seems to be doing well.
Seem being the operative word.
I stroke his golden locks away from his face, my smile falling as I look at the dark circles surrounding his eyes. Asleep, he looks peaceful, like he’s dreaming happy dreams filled with football and pizza. Awake, he looks sad, as if the weight of the world is bearing down on his shoulders. Is it really all the training and the games? Or is it something else? I should ask him, but I doubt he will tell me the truth. I hate prying, hate sticking my nose into his life, but given that one, I’m his girlfriend, and two, his past issues with drinking and drugs, I feel like I should get a pass.
Yesterday was fun, but I couldn’t help but worry about Hunter. He kept fidgeting with his shirt, his hands, and his jeans. It was as if his whole body itched. He kept glancing over his shoulder as if someone were watching him. Something is wrong.
I think he’s been drinking again. It’s the only thing that could have him acting so weird. It would explain all the cologne and the fact he was stumbling over his feet more than normal. I don’t think I’ve ever met such a klutzy football player. I’m sure they’re more surefooted than this. His drinking would also explain the sudden weight loss and the dark circles. There’s only one way to find out.
I rise from the bed, careful not to wake Seth, whose arm is draped over me. Lucas is snoring on the floor. Hunter was able to find an old sleeping bag for him to sleep in while Alex is buried in a variety of blankets on the floor on the other side of the bed. I tiptoe over Lucas’s body, padding as quietly as possible out of the room and down the hall. I stop in front of the bathroom, taking a moment to push the door open and eye the large bathtub, hoping I can get some quality time in it during my stay. But I can take a bath later. My main concern is the refrigerator.
I continue into the kitchen and throw open the refrigerator door, expecting to find liquor bottles staring back at me. I frown while I look around, seeing a large turkey taking up most of the shelf. There’s a pumpkin pie on the shelf above it and a ton of potatoes in the drawer below. There’s enough to feed a party of twenty in this refrigerator, and the only bottles I see are ones filled with hot sauce. No alcohol. Nothing.
My frown deepens. He must be hiding the bottles. Or he could simply be having a hard time adjusting to his new schedule. It happens. Not everyone adapts so easily to adult life. Who am I to judge? I ease the door closed and jump when I find blue eyes staring back at me, framed by golden locks.
“H-hunter,” I stutter, my hand flying to my chest while my heart pounds as if it’s trying to break out of my ribcage. “You scared me.”
He doesn’t say anything as he watches me, his eyes bloodshot, his face unusually pale. If anything, he looks pissed, though I don’t know why. Sure, maybe he thinks I’m looking for alcohol, but I’m not going to fess up to it.
“You’re up early,” I say uneasily.
Hunter saunters past me, moving toward the coffee maker resting on the counter near the refrigerator. “Couldn’t sleep,” he mutters.
His hand trembles while he reaches for the coffee pod. “Oh, that’s too bad,” I say, not knowing what to add. The air around us seems tense and the way Hunter is holding himself reminds me of a starving wolf ready to pounce.
“What were you looking for?” Hunter asks, glancing at me with a knowing look.
I straighten myself, jutting out my chin while I search for an excuse. I’m not going to tell him that I was looking for liquor bottles. That will only make matters worse. “I was just making sure you got everything for Thanksgiving dinner.” I force a smile, worried he won’t by it, but he nods and turns around, focusing his attention on making coffee.
“I’m kinda nervous. This is my first time making Thanksgiving for everyone.”
Hunter shrugs. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. If not, we can just order Chinese.”
I bite my tongue to keep from saying something rude and sarcastic. I should be happy that he’s not pushing me for more answers, although the low blow hurts. He should be saying something along the lines of:Oh, it’ll be amazing! Don’t you worry!Isn’t that what all boyfriends and husbands tell their partners?
A groan comes from the hallway and I turn toward it, happy to see a sleepy Seth entering the kitchen. “Coffee,” he rasps, his eyes hardly cracked open. “Now.”
“Working on it,” Hunter mutters.
“I suppose I’ll just get ready then,” I say while edging toward the hallway.
Neither Hunter nor Seth say anything as I escape into the bathroom. I lock the door and lean against it, frowning at my surroundings.It might not even be alcohol,I think, feeling disheartened.It could be drugs.
I slowly pull the drawers under his sink open, rifling around his razor and the cologne bottles before searching another, only finding extra toothpaste, Listerine, and floss. All right, so he’s not keeping his drugs in his bathroom. If he is doing any drugs or drinking, he must keep it in his bedroom, but how will I be able to search it while he’s here? He will know something is up. He already suspects me.
Or it could be nothing,I tell myself.Why should I be concerning myself with this when I should be enjoying my very limited time with him? It’s probably nothing. He’s tired. He’s busy. He’s stressed.
But,I think while scowling at my reflection in the mirror,this Hunter is very different from the Hunter who left in June.
