The guy had become the poster child of clean living after a bad car accident in college. And over the last few years, the sports media had nearly canonized him for the turnaround. The congressman’s son. The stellar pitcher. The all-American guy with the beauty queen girlfriend.
Not that Devon had been paying attention. Or recording every game he pitched.
God, he was pathetic.
He cleared his throat, trying to come up with something to say. “Why are you drinking now?”
Hunter pointed at him, his finger wavering. “Good question.”
He followed up with a sage nod like he’d explained everything.
Fuck. The guy was hammered. The waitress probably hadn’t blinked at letting Hunter order a few glasses. He was big and broad—a guy who looked able to handle his liquor. But Hunter’s tolerance had always been low, and if he’d been sober for four years, that would only have made it worse. Devon grabbed the stem of Hunter’s half-empty glass, moved it to the side, and then replaced the spot in front of him with the flatbread. “You need to eat something, big man.”
The old nickname rolled off of Dev’s tongue before he caught it, and Hunter stiffened. Sober awareness flickered in his dark eyes, as if the words had snapped him temporarily from the wine haze. He shook his head. “Need to go.”
He shifted as if to stand, but Devon jumped up and put a firm hand on Hunter’s shoulder, pushing him back down. Their gazes locked for a moment, Devon looming over Hunter, the position dragging him back to memories he didn’t want to access right now, fantasies he’d conjured since. He shook them off and cleared his throat. “No way. Not until you eat something and sober up. Did you take a cab here?”
“Rental.”
“You’re definitely not going anywhere, then. Try to leave, and I’ll have my bar manager call the cops.”
Hunter’s expression soured at that, and he shrugged from beneath Dev’s touch. “I’m fine.”
“You’re wasted. Let’s not test fate to see if you can survive two drunk driving accidents. I think one may have been your limit.”
He looked away, grimacing.
Devon tucked his hands in his pockets, trying to keep his cool. “We’re about to close, and I’ll be here for a while getting everything wrapped up for the night. Eat and get your head clear, then we’ll figure out where you’re supposed to be and how to get you there.”
Hunter’s phone vibrated on the table, the screen lighting up with a text message. Hunter’s gaze shifted that way, his jaw flexing. A few messages looked to be unanswered.
Devon forced himself not to read what was on the screen, but he caught the name Macy. The girlfriend. “Someone looking for you?”
“She’s just checking that I got here okay,” he mumbled. “Can’t talk to her like this.”
“You could just text her back.”
He closed his eyes and squeezed his temples. “She likes to say goodnight in person every night. It’s her thing.”
“Well, it’s a shame how loud this bar is tonight. You’d never be able to hear her pretty voice,” Dev said, unable to hide the sarcasm in his tone.
Hunter looked up and glanced around at the now-empty bar. “What?”
Devon picked up Hunter’s phone. “What do you call her?”
“Huh?
“Pet name?” The words tasted bitter crossing his tongue, but he forced them past without a hint of emotion. “Sweetie, baby, sugar dumpling, what is it?”
Hunter glanced down at his flatbread and picked at the crust. “Sweetheart.”
Devon gave him a stiff smile. “Great.” He started typing and reciting the words for Hunter. “Hey, sweetheart, got into town a little late and am grabbing a bite to eat. Really loud in here so I can’t call. Miss you already.” He showed the screen to Hunter. “That work?”
Hunter’s gaze met his, some of the bleariness clearing as their stares held for a few seconds too long. “Add ‘I love you.’”
The simple words jabbed right into Devon’s side, twisted. “Of course.” He finished the message, pressed Send, and tossed the phone on the table. “Problem solved. Now eat. I’m going to send over a cheese and cracker plate, too. And some coffee.”
Hunter opened his mouth like he was about to protest, but Devon leveled him with a look that shut him up. Dev would’ve normally gotten some satisfaction from silencing Mr. Powerful Baseball Star with a simple look, but he couldn’t enjoy it.