Page 33 of Hard Hearts

“I always miss you, Kitten.” This is true. He’s kiss-attacked me when I have gotten back from the bathroom before. The man is a cuddle bug. It’s annoying, and I love every second of it. Wow, Kaden might have really nailed it with that kitten nickname.

I am rather catlike, and he is the only one who can make me purr.

Epilogue

TOM GUNNER, 19

“Do you feel any extra pressure playing for your dad, Tom? Do you feel like you’ve earned the starting position?”

The question comes from Sports Fan Network. He’s been writing articles about how I’m a nepo baby and that I’m only the starting quarterback for the Raiders because my dad, two-time Super Bowl champ Kaden Gunner, is the coach.

“There’s no extra pressure. I want to win, and that’s my goal regardless of who my coach is.”

“You’re only a red shirt freshman. Do you think you’re starting material?” This question is from GSports Podcast. I hate them, too.

“Yes.” This elicits a laugh.

“Anything to add?”

“No.”

The room laughs again. I give them a quick grin that my mom says is a ladykiller. Since every woman I’ve tried it on is still alive, I feel like that description is an exaggeration, but everyone in the press room seems to lighten up. The clicks of cameras seem to increase. From the back of the room, my dad catches myeye. Good time to end the questioning. When I stand, a bunch of groans spread among the reporters.

“One more question, Tom!” a couple shout out.

Our press secretary steps forward. “Thank you all for coming. That will be all for today. Don’t forget to come to our spring game in three weeks,” she chirps.

I escape off the podium and out the side door of the hotel conference room where the presser was held. Mom is there with a big smile on her face.

“You did great.” She draws me into her arms for a hug. Over her shoulder, I lock eyes with Starr. My parents had a late-in-life baby girl, and since Mom runs Gunner, Inc., she brought in Starr to help her with Tilly. The problem is that Starr is outrageously hot, so hot that people are always coming up to Mom telling her what a mistake it was to hire her. Mom always laughs and says even pretty girls need jobs. She knows Dad would never stray. I don’t even think Dad registers other women as women. They’re just humans that exist in a circle that my mom occupies. Unless he’s focused on the field and his players, his eyes are on her.

I’ve grown up around that kind of love, and I knew it was the only thing that would satisfy me, which is why I never dated, never slept with any girls in high school. Football and my family were enough. Until Starr came along.

I want her, but I can never have her. She works for my family, and you don’t take advantage of someone like that. And that makes my life miserable because everywhere I turn, Starr is there.

I reach down and open my arms for little Tilly to totter into them. I scoop her up and hold her like a shield between me and Starr. “You having a good time, T-bear?”

She shakes her head, her pigtails bouncing beside her ears. “It’s too noisy.”

“It’s a lot. Should we go and throw the football?”

This time her head nods vigorously. “Did you bring your special ball?” Tilly’s three. She can barely hold a Nerf, but she wants to be like her big bro, so Mom and Starr commissioned a tiny leather ball that fits in her tiny little hands.

“No.”

“I have it, Tilly.” Starr comes up, brushing my arm.

I jerk away. Starr scowls at me.

“You have owie?” Tilly asks, patting my arm with her pudgy toddler hand.

“No, T-bear. Just got startled.”

“Star-pled?”

“Starr pilled for real,” Starr mutters under her breath.

“Surprised. Like when Hello Kitty is surprised and meows?”

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