“What is it?” Carmen asked with a gentle tone, knowing that he was only finding it difficult to say whatever he wanted to, because it was important, because it mattered to him.
“Uh, I…” Hunter cleared his throat and leant back in the chair, fixing his gaze on one of the legs of the bed. “How come you never asked me why I had a sudden change of heart? Why I wanted to stop holding Mum’s death over you?”
Carmen’s heart clenched at how Hunter still referred to her own mother as mum.
“I didn’t want to push you,” she admitted with a sheepish smile. “You always get annoyed when asked to talk about feelings and all that…” She shrugged, letting the sentence hang in the air.
Hunter’s gaze softened and he lifted one of his legs, placing it on the bed and nudging her foot with his. “You ask me whatever you want whenever you want,” he muttered, looking away again. “I promise to try and not snap.”
Carmen’s chest swelled with affection and she offered him a small smile. “Okay then.” She nodded towards the piece of clothing on her desk that Hunter had brought in with him. “Can you tell me what that is?”
Hunter chuckled lightly and then reached behind his head to grab the cloth before throwing it straight at Carmen’s face.
She took a hold of the dark red material once it slipped down to her lap and began to stretch it out. “What on earth is this?”
“My jersey,” Hunter mumbled under his breath, lifting one tensed shoulder in an awkward shrug. “The first away game of the season is just around the corner and, well, I’d like it if you were there, wearing my number.”
Carmen’s eyes grew wide as she stared at him in a mixture of awe and bafflement, before she looked down at the front of the jersey in her hands and saw the number 17 in big, white lettering with the team name Vikings above it in a much smaller font.
Turning the jersey around, she found the same number printed on the back, but this time with Hunter’s last name, Donoghue, sewn above the 17 instead of the team’s name.
“I know a lot of guys give it to their girlfriends, but…” Hunter scratched the side of his head. “But you know me, I’m more of a family guy than the romantic type. Can’t deal with all that lovey-dovey shit.” He looked like he wanted to add something else but hesitated and pressed his lips together.
Carmen waited as a beat of silence slipped past, and then Hunter spoke again:
“Football and you—they’re the only aspects of my life that matters. So it only makes sense for you to have my jersey number.”
Carmen bit her lip, and she didn’t know if it was to stop the gigantic smile from breaking out on her face or to prevent happy tears from pooling in her eyes.
“I…” Carmen blinked, glancing down at the maroon-coloured piece of clothing and then back at Hunter’s composed expression. “I don’t know what to say.”
“You can say that you’ll wear it,” he remarked, lifting a brow.
“Of course, I’ll wear it, you idiot.” Carmen laughed, affection lacing her voice. “Thank you,” she mumbled in a softer tone. “This means a lot because I know how much you’ve loved the sport ever since we were kids.”
It looked like Hunter wanted to say something again, but this time he refrained himself for good and just settled for a small smile in Carmen’s direction.
“He’ll come around, Carmen,” Hunter said with a small sigh after a minute or two had passed.
Carmen’s eyes snapped up from examining the jersey, and she frowned at him curiously. “What?”
“San Román,” Hunter shrugged. “I don’t know if you’ll ever end up together or not, but he will forgive you, that much I’m certain of.”
Carmen’s eyes dropped back to her fingers that were playing with the lettering on the dark red material in her hands. “You don’t know that.”
There was another sigh from Hunter. “Yes, I do,” he muttered, rising up from the chair and beginning to walk towards the door. “Because the one thing he and I have in common is our love for you, even though it’s on two completely different levels. Either way, he would know what I know: that you’re worth the pain.”
“What does that even mean, Hunter?” she sounded tired and worn out now. “That I have the ability to hurt someone so deeply but it should be okay because it’s coming from me?”
He offered her a small smile. “No. It means that you have a significant place in his life. And now you get to decide what you want to fill that place with.”
Carmen then understood what Hunter was trying to tell her. She had never fought back with him because she always believed he was worth the pain. And in doing so, she let him continue to hurt her. And hurt her. And hurt her.
Until Hunter had decided he didn’t want to just be someone who was worth the pain because if he had that significant a place in Carmen’s heart, then he was also capable of bringing that much joy. And here he was, trying to fill that place with something other than agony and negativity.
And Carmen supposed she had places to fill too—places that she had rendered empty.
Because when it came down to it, Carmen didn’t want to be someone worth the pain when she could be someone who washed it away instead.
And maybe that was what love was.
61.
I Want You To Stay
The stadium was packed with students by the time Carmen and Joyce arrived.
