Beneath Your Beautiful

My bedroom door flings open and the crash has me cradling my head between my hands. The loud noise reverberates through my skull and bounces back and forth.

“How long has he been like this?” a deep, gruff voice rumbles. I work to push away the haze surrounding my brain, I know that voice.

Coach Morgan.

“Three days,” Brody’s voice comes.

Three days? No wonder it feels like the Hulk is using my head as a punching bag.

“C’mon, help me get him in the shower. We can’t talk sense into him when he stinks worse than a drunk after Labor Day.”

Two sets of hands wrap around my arms and hoist me up into a semi-standing position. My clothes are stripped until I’m only left with my boxer briefs. Everything around me is a complete blur. Coach Morgan and Brody help me climb into the shower and turn the hot water on. When I’m left alone, my body sags until I’m sitting on the floor, hot water cascading over my weary body. I sift through my memory, trying to remember anything from the last three days, but I draw a blank. I groan. Even that hurts.

When I’m sure I can stand, I stumble my way out of the shower and pull on a clean shirt and sweatpants. By the time I make it downstairs, Coach Morgan and Brody are talking in the living room.

Coach Morgan looks at me, his grimace firmly in place. “Welcome. It’s about time you got your shit together Carter.”

I blink several times. Hearing Coach Morgan cuss is strange. He only does it when he’s really really pissed, and judging by the look he’s giving me right now, he’s pissed with me.

Brody walks to the kitchen and comes back with a glass of water and some aspirin. I chug the water and the pills greedily, eager to knock the Hulk punching my head on his ass.

“What are you doing here Coach?”

“I want to know what the hell happened between you and Huntley in that goddamn hospital room and what the hell you plan on doing to fix it.”

I’m too occupied with how much hearing her name hurts to be taken aback by the anger in Coach Morgan’s voice. It’s misplaced considering I’m the one who was left devastated.

I pull both my hands through my hair, exasperated. “She told me to leave.”

Brody and Coach Morgan both frown at me like I’m crazy. “Why would she do that?” Brody asks.

“I don’t know,” I sigh heavily. Talking about this is going to kill me but I need to know. “How is she?” I look at Coach Morgan and try desperately to hide how vulnerable and helpless I feel.

“She’s a mess. And she’s so damn stubborn,” he exhales audibly. “Emma has been trying to get her to talk about it but it’s like she’s gone into hiding.”

Coach Morgan’s phone rings, interrupting our conversation. His eyebrows scrunch in confusion as he steps away to answer it. My thoughts immediately go to who he’s talking to. Is it Mrs. Coach? Is she calling about Huntley? is something wrong with her? Is something wrong with the baby?

“Gray,” Brody’s voice distracts me from all the questions exploding in my mind. He’s watching me, every part of his face emanating concern.

“Hmmm?”

“How do you feel about Huntley being pregnant?”

Coach Morgan walks back into the living room before I can answer. His expression is a mixture of shock and relief.

“That was the Police Department,” he says, “Jake died in the holding cell last night.”

My mind draws a complete blank as I stare at him. If I wasn’t already sitting down my knees would’ve given in and left me flat on my ass. My mouth opens and then closes several times but nothing comes out.

What?

“Did they say how?” Brody asks. At least one of us is able to find his voice. This news has all three of us dumb-struck.

Coach Morgan slumps onto the couch, still staring wordlessly at his phone. He shakes his head as if to drag himself out of a stunned trance. “He somehow got a knife snuck in and killed himself.”

“Holy shit,” I mutter. I should be a doing a damn happy dance now that Huntley will no longer have to be scared of him, but I can’t bring myself to revel in the death of another human being, even if he killed himself. “Are you going to tell Huntley?”

“I don’t think that poor girl can deal with much more at the moment,” he looks at me pointedly. “I’ll speak to Emma and we’ll decide what we think is best.”

“I’m sorry Coach,” the words slip out of my mouth effortlessly. “I never meant for her to get hurt.”

He sighs, running his hands through his thinning hair and down his face. It’s then that I notice how tired he looks and that he’s got a bit of stubble.

“Why haven’t you kicked my ass yet?” I ask quietly.

“Do you love her?” he shoots back.

I answer without hesitation. “With everything I am.”

“That’s why.” He pauses, resting his elbows on his knees thoughtfully. “It will take me some time to get used to the idea that y’all are going to have a baby, but if I know that you have no intention of skipping out on her then y’all will both have mine and Emma’s support. Huntley has been through too much already, and all I want is for her to be happy, to be loved. She deserves that, and so much more.” His eyes glaze over. “I need to know that you’ll step up, and be the man I know you are. Fight for her, no matter how stubborn she is.”

“Coach, she’s my life, and I know we’re young, but I can’t wait for her to have my baby. I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with her, taking care of her and our family. I would rather die than live another day without her at my side.” My hearts constricts inside my chest and my throat swells until I feel like I’m choking back tears.

“You do right by my girl,” he says. “Because if you hurt her, she won’t survive you.”

His eyes are full of warning, his unspoken threat echoing around me. He’s fiercely protective of Huntley, but so am I. “You have my word.”

We stare at each other and when he nods I know he believes me.

All I can think about is my beautiful girl. And the life she’s carrying. My little life.

That I’m prepared to fight for, whether she believes it or not.

Chapter 25

~ Huntley ~

“Huntley?” a soft voice tickles my ears and I stir. I roll over, the pain in my ribs almost gone. The bruises are yellow and look better in comparison to how they looked two weeks ago. My Aunt Emma’s warm, loving face greets me, her eyes shining with kind-heartedness. “It’s time for you to eat something sweetheart, you’ve been asleep for over four hours.”

That’s no surprise. I’ve been napping a lot since I left the hospital a few days ago. Apparently that’s normal.

“It’s just some soup,” she encourages, “You must be starving.”

As if on cue, my stomach grumbles and I giggle. The sound is so strange. I haven’t laughed, or smiled, since I watched Grayson leave my hospital room. I haven’t done much of anything really, except sleep and wallow in my self-pity. And my stupidity.

“Hmmm,” I breathe in the delicious smell of the soup through my nose and my belly does a little tumble, reminding me that I’m eating for two. “It smells delicious. I’m starving.” I pat my slightly burgeoning belly. “I mean we’re starving.”