Page 108 of Bleacher Report
"Peyton!" Jesse calls out, waving me over. "Look at my new chair!"
I hurry over, taking in the sleek design and the way it seems to move with Jesse's every motion. "Wow, Jess, this is amazing! Where did you get it?"
"Hunter got it for me!" he exclaims, beaming up at the towering hockey player. "Isn't it the coolest?"
I glance up at Hunter, my heart swelling with a mix of emotions. "You did this?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
He nods, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. "I, uh, I had a little help from Luka. One of his friends is a Paralympian who uses these chairs. His buddy has an in with the manufacturer, and they were able to fast-track it for Jesse."
My eyes sting with unshed tears as I take in the thoughtfulness of his gesture. "Hunter, this is... This is incredible. Thank you."
"It's nothing," he says, waving me off. "Jesse's been a champ during his PT sessions, and he earned it. Now, he can come out with me to play."
“Are you ready to go, Jesse?” my mom says, holding out his jacket. “I’ve got dinner in the crockpot, and we’d better get your homework done before school tomorrow.”
Jesse heads for my mom in his new wheelchair, and Hunter walks behind him with a bucket of pucks and his hockey stick in his hand.
“Thanks, Grandma,” he says, standing out of his wheelchair. She helps him put on his jacket and then hands him his cane. It just about wrecks me to see him so much stronger than ever before. Though he uses his cane a lot, the stadium is a big place, and he would usually bring his wheelchair for this many steps. He’s beaming, the smile on his face as big as I’ve ever seen it, red from the cold ice.
Jesse turns around and hugs Hunter. “Thank you. I can’t believe I get to play with you now. This is the best day of my life.”
All of a sudden, my jacket feels like it's choking me, and I’m trying to get air, emotions want to overflow, my tear ducts start to water, but I take a deep breath through my nose to stop them. I panic, searching for the exit. This is all supposed to be fake.
With my subscriber numbers reaching my goal and Hunter doing all of this, it’s almost too much. And in less than three weeks, he’ll go back to being the hockey player on the ice thatI once knew, I’ll go back to an empty townhouse, free of boxer briefs in my washing machine, protein shakers in the sink, and more food in the refrigerator than I could ever eat.
In a matter of almost six weeks, I gained so much, and yet I’m about to lose so much more.
I see my mom holding back her own tears. “We owe you so much.”
Hunter waves her off. “I’m happy to get another future hockey player out on the ice,” he says, smiling at her, but then his eyes find mine.
Our eyes lock, and there is so much unspoken in this moment. So much more that he’s done for my family that he was under no obligation in our agreement to do. And he did it without asking for recognition from me or anyone else.
Thank you, I mouth to him, trying to keep my emotions from bubbling over.
He gives the faintest nod, almost as if he doesn’t want to take the credit, and it only makes me want to kiss him more.
Jesse turns back to my mom. “Did you get the video so I can send it to dad next time he calls from base? He’s not going to believe it when I tell him that I’m training with the Hawkeyes. Just wait until my friends hear about this at school,” he tells her, his eyes lighting up like a Christmas tree.
I glance over at Hunter, who's watching the exchange with a knowing smile. "PT sessions?" I echo, my brow furrowing.
Hunter buries his hands in his pockets and shrugs like it’s no big deal. "Yeah, I've been bringing him a couple times a week," Hunter explains. "Figured he could use the extra support, and the team's trainers have been great about working with him."
I'm speechless, my gaze darting between my mom, Jesse, and Hunter. This man, who I thought was only here because of some mutually beneficial arrangement, has gone above and beyond to make a real difference in my nephew's life. And without tellingme—without looking to gain favor with me or to rack up points to get me in bed.
He’s been doing it because he cares about my nephew—no ulterior motive in sight.
My mom smiles. “Have a safe flight to your mother’s. I’m sure she can’t wait to see you. We’ll see you after Christmas?”
His eyes break from mine and glance to my mom. “I will, and I’ll let you know what the physical therapy schedule is when I get back,” he tells her and then looks down at Jesse. “Make sure that you’re doing all the strength training over the holidays. No slacking off. The only person it hurts is you.”
“Yes, sir,” Jesse says, and then my mom turns and follows Jesse down the player’s tunnel.
Hunter steps closer, his eyes searching mine as if he can sense the emotions I’m trying to hold back.
“You’ve been picking him up from school and bringing him to PT with you? Why haven’t you ever mentioned it to me?”
“I got your mom’s number at Thanksgiving in case something came up. My PT said he’d like to help, and he’s worked with people with spina bifida right out of college. It just worked out. I didn’t think it would be a problem.”
