I wasn’t ashamed of my sexuality, but in the world of sports—especially football—it wasn’t exactly a common thing. Even though I knew it was cowardly, I was afraid of the backlash from it. Other athletes had come out as gay in the past year and some years before that, but only a small handful of pro-football players had. The ones whohadcome out were usually already done with football when they did.
When I’d asked Austin about me coming out, he’d often told me to wait until my contract was up.
“What are you doing when you get back?” I asked him as I took a seat on the stool. I needed to catch my breath for a bit.
“I think I’m goin’ to propose to Beth soon,” Austin answered with a nervous smile. “That ring has been weighing heavier and heavier every fucking day, but I wanted to wait for the offseason to do it. That way we can enjoy it, ya know?”
“Or have time to mourn your loss if she rejects your ass,” I said.
“Asshole,” he scoffed, punching my arm. Then, he sat on the stool beside mine. “Do you think she’ll say no?”
“Not a chance,” I reassured him.
“Thanks.” He smiled before his face fell. “That shower’s gonna hurt tonight.”
I laughed, even though it wasn’t funny.
After a brutal game like what we’d just had—sixty minutes of tackling, slamming into other players and having the breath knocked out of you, and the abrasions from scraping your skin on the turf—showers were a special kind of torture.
***
Days later, I was home in Kansas City. The offseason had officially started, and it was always a weird thing to grasp at first. After months of every day workouts, practice, traveling, and games, the fact that I had so much free time now took some getting used to. I didn’t have to return to work—for lack of a better word—until April when offseason workouts began.
If the Raptors didn’t renew my contract, I’d only have one more year of pro-football. Next season could very well be my last. Maybe another team would pick me up.
Don’t think about that now.
I was on vacation, and I wanted to put aside all worries and just enjoy it.
“We should escape this horrid winter and go somewhere tropical,” William said as we sat on my couch, looking outside at the dreary gray sky that threatened to pour down sleet and snow any minute.
He was my current fling of three months, and it was the longest I’d ever been with the same guy. Well, apart from Hunter… who I still fucking thought about.
“Not sure I’m up for traveling right now,” I responded, putting my arm around his shoulders. I’d just gotten home and the last thing I wanted was to pack up and leave again. “Winter isn’t so bad.”
“You’re joking, right?” Will asked, raising his brows. “Winter sucks.”
He was a nice guy and everything, but I didn’t foresee it being long term. Not just because of our differing opinions of seasons, but because we differed in a lot of ways. He wasn’t a diva or anything, but he was still high maintenance. Way too much for my liking.
I made a shit load of money, and I knew that’s why he stuck around. However, he was hot and was willing to stay quiet about us. And he was pretty good in bed. So, whatever.
“Give me a few days to relax, and then I’ll take you wherever you wanna go,” I said before nuzzling the side of his face. His light brown hair held loose curls and touched the middle of his ears, and I brushed a stray piece aside. “Deal?”
He smiled. “Okay. Fine.”
“What are you working on?” I asked, nodding to the laptop on the side table.
“Ah, nothing important,” he answered with a shrug. “Just an idea I’m playing around with. Not sure where it’s going.”
William was a journalist for a gossip magazine and he hoped to publish books someday. He mostly covered the juicy gossip in celebrity’s lives—who was sleeping with who, cheating scandals, fashion fails on the red carpet, and shit like that. I’d met him at an after party to some event I’d been invited to. We’d ended up fucking in the upstairs walk-in closet that night, and we’d been a thing ever since then.
My phone buzzed on the coffee table, and I unfolded myself from Will to lean forward and grab it. A picture of me and my grandpa flashed on the screen.
“Hey, gramps,” I answered before sitting back against the couch.
“Boy, I am too young to be called gramps,” he said, still just as spirited as ever. “When are you coming to see me?”
Guilt trickled into my chest. Grandpa Bill had raised me, and ever since I left home all those years before, I’d never gone back to Willow. Of course, I’d flown Grandpa out a few times a year to see me, but I’d never stepped foot back into my hometown. It’d been selfish, but I didn’t want all the reminders of it. Of Hunter and what I’d given up.
