Page 41 of Playing for Keeps
Cathy blinked up at me and for a brief moment I wondered if she recognized me. But then a smile drifted onto her face.
“Hello Luke.” Her speech was slurred.
Ethan remained crouched down so he could be at his mother’s height.
“Theo’s already scored two tries,” he told her.
She said something in reply and he laughed, that golden laugh that was pure Ethan.
I’d forgotten this about Ethan. How there was just so muchgoodin him.
He was gorgeous and fun, but I hadn’t fallen for him just because of his looks and sense of humor. I’d fallen for him because despite life throwing so much shit at him, he retained such fundamental kindness. Like with his mum, who he had a right to be pissed off at because of stuff that had happened in his childhood.
Sure, she’d been sick, but she’d made bad choices about the kind of guys she let into her life. The freeloaders who’d seen a woman with a house they could live in and a disability benefit they could help spend. And nowhere did treating her son as anything more than a nuisance come into the equation.
Watching Ethan now adjusting the blanket on Cathy’s lap, tucking it into the sides so her legs would stay warm, I felt a bolt of something shoot through me.
It wasn’t attraction. It wasn’t lust.
It was love.
Such an intense, pure love.
Back in high school physics we’d learned that no matter what happened, energy could never be destroyed. It appeared my love for Ethan was the same.
I would always love him. It was as much a part of me as my brown eyes and lanky build. I had to accept that reality. But it was okay. As long as that love didn’t grow, I would be fine.
Giving Cathy another brief smile, I forced myself to move away, back to Jonathan’s side.
“You okay?” Jonathan asked, his eyes concerned as he scanned my face. I had no idea what he saw in my expression.
“I’m all good,” I replied.
Chapter11
Ethan
The Marauders were having an epic season.
And a big part of that was due to the play of one Mr. Luke Hunter.
Not that I was surprised. I’d spent so many days of my childhood on a rugby field marveling at the latest bit of magic he’d conjured, and now the rest of New Zealand was finally catching up with just how amazing he was.
The nickname Miracle Man had spread through the team, and the press had picked up on it, so suddenly there were headlines equating Luke’s play with miracles.
I looked up from my phone to where Luke was lounging on the other bed in the hotel room. “Do you know some crazy fan has started an online petition to get that try you scored before halftime added to the Vatican’s official miracle list?”
Luke snorted. “It’s probably my father.”
I laughed at that. Not having a dad of my own, I’d been so jealous of Luke’s relationship with his dad when we were growing up. Anthony Hunter didn’t just have rose tinted spectacles on when it came to Luke, he practically exploded with pride at his son’s achievements. And Luke had given him a lot over the years to be proud of.
The weirdest thing was how Anthony had influenced my own parenting style. Whenever I was thinking about how to be the best father to Theo, I always thought of the way Anthony had treated Luke.
Anthony would probably have had a heart attack if someone had whispered in his ear twenty years ago “Make sure you demonstrate being a good father in front of that stray kid your son hangs out with, because one day your grandson will benefit.”
But that’s where we had ended up.
My navel gazing was interrupted by someone hammering on our door. A bolt of adrenaline ran through me.
