Player (A Secret Baby Sports Romance)(96)

I swing again, swallowing the burning in my throat as I pant, pushing myself harder, longer; don’t stop, never stop. My breaths coming short and hard, my head swimming as I connect with the bag again, and again, and again - I connect with the bag one more time before the pain is so real I can’t actually lift my arm again, and I collapse onto the living room floor. I can barely breath, or see through the sweat, but I laugh as I glance at my stopwatch and realize I’ve been punching this damn bag for an hour straight.

I’m getting too old for this shit.

I also realize I was supposed to call Logan when I got home and let him know how things went.

Oh, yeah, you know, fantastic. Hey buddy, thanks for sending me into the fucking LION’S DEN back there with Reagan Archer.

I know he and Bryce have no idea what happened with Reagan and I that one time - the time I got so close to everything before I let it all blow away - because if they did they’d have probably killed me by now. Well, Bryce maybe, but Logan for sure. But, I also know neither of them are blind. I mean, I’d like to think I play things close to the chest, but you don’t go through what we went through without being able to read the other guys like an open book.



“Have you lost your fucking mind?!”

I wince as I hold the phone away from my ear. Ok, I made two mistakes tonight. The first was taking Reagan Archer out to what was basically a thinly veiled date; the second - and maybe the dumber of the two - is telling Logan about it.

I’m supposed to be at Reagan’s, but after the way she stormed out like that, I knew pushing it by going over anyways was not going to lead to good things. So I’m back at my penthouse, with two of my guys keeping a low-profile guard on her building.

“Hudson, you’ve pulled some stupid shit, but this is beyond the fucking pale.” I can practically feel the venom leaking through the phone from his voice before he barks into the receiver again; “You fucking idiot!”

“Logan!” I yell, reaching for the pack of emergency cigarettes I keep behind the spoons in my silverware drawer and tapping one out; “Look, it was stupid, I know. I-”

“Did you fuck her?” Logan spits out, his voice ice cold; that tone he only takes when he’s about to fuck something up - like, in this instance, my face, the next time he sees me.

“Wha- No! Come on man!” I stick the God-knows how old cigarette in my mouth and light it, coughing on the dry, ancient smoke that fills my lungs like burning sand.

“Oh, and smoking; nice. Good fucking job, Hudson; hell of a night you're having.”

“Will you calm the fuck down!” I spit out, making a face. The cigarette tastes like a horse’s asshole; well, at least what I imagine the butt of a horse tastes like at least. “Of course I didn't, what’s wrong with you man? She’s not that kind-”

“That wasn't meant as a dis on her, idiot. That's 'cause I know you.”

I suck at the horrible cigarette, feeling the bile rise in my burning throat; “The hell is that supposed to mea-”

“The guy who slept his way through half of Italy and Turkey? The guy that almost got us shipped over to the fucking U.S. State Department in Cairo because he couldn't keep his fucking dick in his goddamn pan-”

“That was a long time ago, bud.” My voice is beyond frosty. And it was. I’m a different guy now, and I’ve worked damn hard to get here.

Logan is quiet on the other end of the line for a moment, his breathing coming in regular, controlled measures. Finally, he sighs; “I know; I know man.” His voice is calmer, and he’s back to speaking to me like a normal person; “Look, I'm sorry, brother.”

“It's cool” I mutter out. That’s one thing about the three us; we might fight like the devil amongst ourselves sometime, but we’re always quick to tamp that fire out. I guess that’s what going through what we went through does to you.

“You can't date her; you know that, right?”

I stamp out the cigarette in my kitchen sink and turn on the viking range to clear the smell of smoke out of the place; “Yeah, I know that.”

“We're supposed to watch them, Hudson; that was the promise. To protect and help them, and make sure they're safe.” Logan pauses; “That's it, brother. There are other fish in-”

“Ok! I know! Fuck-” I trail off as I walk back into the massive library off the kitchen where I’ve set up my boxing bag and stare out through the tinted floor-to-ceiling windows at the New York City skyline. The old me would have loved to show off this view to any and every girl I could charm up here, but I’ve stopped all that now; because of the promise.