Until You Loved Me (Silver Springs #3)(59)

Placing the phone on his chest, he covered his eyes with one arm. He was lying on the couch, mostly because he couldn’t get up. “Florida.”

“That means you’re the one who’s three hours ahead.”

“Oh. Damn. Of course. I wasn’t thinking straight. Didn’t mean to wake you. Tell Jac—Jacquel—Jackie I’m sorry. I’ll call you later.”

“Wait,” Bruiser said. “Have you heard from the detective you hired?”

“He hasn’t found anything. Got an email update from him tonight. So don’t worry about it. We can talk later.”

“Something must be wrong. Give me a minute.”

Hudson heard rustling, guessed his friend was slipping out of bed so he wouldn’t wake his wife, whose name Hudson had just butchered, and felt guilty for bothering them both.

He was trying to find End so he could hang up when he heard Bruiser’s voice come back on the line.

“What’s up, buddy? You drunk? You sound like it. I’ve never heard you slur your words this badly.”

Dropping his phone back on his chest, Hudson studied the partially empty bottle of whiskey he’d had delivered to his suite once he ran out of wine. “I might be a little toasted.”

“I think it’s safe to say you’re completely smashed.”

“Yeah. Haven’t been this drunk in a while.” Maybe high school. He couldn’t even remember the last time.

Wait, it wasn’t that long ago. He’d drunk a lot at the going-away party when his previous left tackle was traded. He felt as if he couldn’t hang on to anyone. The people in his life came and went...

“What are you doing in Florida?” Bruiser asked. “I wasn’t aware you had any trips planned.”

“Didn’t. This was definitely unplanned.” He laughed as though that was the funniest joke he’d ever heard.

Bruiser remained silent, waiting for his mirth to subside. “What do you mean? Tell me what you’re doing there.”

“I’m picking up the mother of my child. Can you believe it?”

There was a slight hesitation before Bruiser said, “You don’t have any children.”

“Will soon. I’m going to be a father, like you. In June.”

“How?”

Hudson tried to explain, but he knew he wasn’t doing a very good job. He kept cutting in and out of the story. When he finished, Bruiser said, “Some woman is claiming to be pregnant with your child? Is that it?”

“Is pregnant with my child,” he said, correcting Bruiser. “She’s not just claiming to be.”

“But you hardly ever sleep with anyone! You’re so careful, you rarely go out with the other single guys on the team in case they lead you into trouble.”

“Yeah, well, guess I wasn’t careful enough.” That was the thing. He’d let down his guard because Ellie was so different from the overeager groupies the other guys on the team—even a few married ones—seemed to enjoy.

“When did you sleep with this...scientist, did you say?”

Hudson tried to pour himself another drink and ended up spilling whiskey all over the table. “Damn.”

“What is it?”

He used his sleeve to try to mop it up. “Nothing.”

“Are you going to answer my question?”

“What was your question?”

“When did you get this scientist pregnant?”

“Name’s Ellie. Dr. Ellie Fisher. Has a doctorate in immunology or something like that. Happened when we came down for the Dolphins game.”

“Back in September.”

“Yeah. She’s due in June. She’ll be showing in a couple of months. Sometimes you can see the curve of her belly now. Blew me away the first time I saw it—and realized what it meant.”

“Coming out of nowhere, that would blow anyone away. But...before you go off the deep end, are you sure the baby’s yours? That she’s telling the truth?”

“I think so.”

“Yeah, otherwise you wouldn’t be drinking so heavily.”

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” he said. “Not to me.”

“It’s your worst nightmare. I know. You’re in full panic mode. But listen to me.”

The room started to spin as Hudson struggled into a sitting position.

“A child is a wonderful thing,” Bruiser continued. “You’ll love being a father—and you’ll be a damn good one.”

Hudson managed to get some liquor in his glass. “I can’t be any worse than my own parents, right? There’s nowhere to go but up.” He tossed back another swallow and welcomed the familiar burn. “Why do you think my mother left me in that hedge, Bruiser?”

“Let’s not go there tonight, buddy. You pick at the same old sore whenever you get drunk.”

He picked at it when he wasn’t drunk, too. He just didn’t talk about it then.

“Whatever the reason, it wasn’t your fault,” Bruiser went on. “She couldn’t have rejected you, because she didn’t even know you. You’ve got to believe that.”

“What are you talking about? I do believe that.”

“No, you don’t. That’s what this boils down to, why you work so hard to keep everyone at arm’s length. You don’t trust love. But we’ll revisit that when you’re sober, since you probably won’t remember any of this, anyway.”