DAMIAN WAS STINKING DRUNK and he still didn't feel a damn bit better. He'd headed to the bar after the 4:00 p.m. game where he'd suited up but hadn't played. Not even a Renegades win helped his mood.
"I'll have what he's having," Carter said to the bartender and slid into the seat next to Damian.
"Of all the bars in Manhattan you had to choose this one?" Damian asked.
The other man shrugged. "What can I say? The Blue Season seemed to fit my mood."
That surprised Damian. “Things didn't go well back at the doctor?"
"Depends what you mean. Is the baby mine? Yeah." And at the admission, a wide grin spread over Carter's face. "Is Carole thrilled with the fact? Couldn't tell you. She's not interested in some big love story. In fact she thinks I deserve better than her. How's that for a laugh? If you ask me, we're so damn alike we deserve each other." With that, he finished his scotch in a few healthy gulps.
Damian burst out laughing. "I couldn't have said it better myself." But he felt for the guy. Damian gestured for another round.
"So what's with you?" Carter asked. "I thought you'd be celebrating your escape. Instead you look like a guy on a bender."
Damian stared into the golden liquid. "Go figure," he muttered. "Because I sure as hell can't."
"Don't tell me you're disappointed with the results." Carter sounded appalled at the notion.
With a shrug, Damian took another gulp of the fiery drink. "Like you said, depends on what you mean. Am I happy I'm not the father of Carole's kid? Hell, yeah." He shot a glance Carter's way. "No offense intended."
"None taken."
"But are you looking at a happy man right now? Hell, no. The thing of it is, I have no idea why I'm not celebrating."
"I'm younger than you and I've done my share of stupid things, but I can still look at you and answer that question. It just depends if you want to hear what I have to say."
"Why not? It's not like I have any answers." Damian leaned on one elbow and stared into the eyes of the rookie, the kid poised to take his place on the team.
Damian had accepted that now. He glanced down at his aching, braced wrist. He'd had no choice. "So what's your take on my life?"
"You're looking at the end of your career and you hate it," Carter said, shoving his chair back and himself out of Damian's reach as he spoke.
Damian chuckled. "I'm not going to hit you."
"I'm not taking any chances."
"Go on,"
Carter paused for a drink first. "Maybe you got used to the idea of having a kid. In general, you know? Not Carole's kid but one of your own. Maybe you thought it'd fill the void when you weren't playing anymore."
"What the fuck are you, a shrink? I've never once considered the end of my career and I never thought about having kids,"
"Not consciously but what about unconsciously?" Carter asked.
"You mean subconsciously."
The kid shrugged. "That, too."
Damian wiped a hand over his face and groaned. "I need air."
"What'd she say about you not being the father?" Carter asked, ignoring him.
"Who?"
Carter drew a deep breath and looked at Damian warily. "The hot little publicist, that's who"
Damian shot to his feet and pulled Carter up by his shirt at the same time. "You talk about her like that again and you're a dead man.”