by Leigh Carman
We get to the room and drop our stuff on the floor. Cal shrugs off his jacket, then carefully hangs it in the closet. I simply flop on the bed on my back, not giving a shit if my suit is wrinkled.
“So….” Cal sits on his bed, resting his elbows on his knees. I recognize that serious tone of voice. With a long, overly dramatic sigh, I sit and throw my legs over my own bed, facing my friend with a weak smile pasted in place. I know Cal is about to dig into my odd behavior on the plane and bus, and it has my stomach in knots. I’m hoping a little humor will throw him off.
No dice.
“What the hell is with you today?” He pins me with a serious gaze, his dark eyes probing. “During the run-through this morning you were a zombie, and you’ve been acting nervous and twitchy for hours.”
I rub a hand over my mouth, dragging it slowly down to my chin. “I just….” I shake my head. “It’s nothing, Cal.”
When I try to stand, Cal grabs my wrist, his grip tight enough to let me know he’s serious but loose enough for me to break his hold if I want to. “Do you trust me, Van?”
That gets my attention. I turn to stone, unable to move. My pulse races through my veins, and my heart hammers so hard it might explode right out of my chest. “I… of course I do.” I lick my lips nervously.
Cal removes his hand from my arm but stays leaning toward me, those damn eyes holding me in place. His serious expression softens, and the corner of his mouth quirks up in a sad smile.
“I know, Van.”
My blood turns to ice, and my racing heart feels as if it stops dead as my lungs constrict. “W-what? I don’t know what—”
“It’s okay, man. I know and I don’t care. No worries, I won’t say anything,” Cal says calmly.
Gaping, I snap my mouth shut and dig the heels of my hands into my eyes, trying to catch my breath. I start clawing at my throat, pulling the knot on my tie loose and unbuttoning the top of my shirt so I can get some air.
Cal moves from his bed to sit next to me. He slings an arm around my shoulders. “Breathe, Van. It’s okay.”
It takes a few minutes for me to stop hyperventilating and for my pulse to slow down enough to not send me into cardiac arrest. When I’m finally able to speak, it’s a gravelly croak as I’m fighting against the humiliating burn of impending tears.
“How? I mean… I never….”
Cal laughs and shifts back from my bed to his so we can talk face to face. “C’mon, man. All the time I’ve known you and you never had a girl? Hell, I never even caught you lookin’. Not once.”
My face flames in embarrassment.
“Shit.” Fear grips my chest once more. “Does anyone else suspect?”
“What, that you’re gay?” Fuck. I cringe at the casual way he flings that word out there. Cal’s eyes bulge at my reaction. “Jesus, Van. It’s not the end of the world.”
“I know, Cal. Just… hearing someone say it, out loud.” I stare at my feet. “It’s fucking scary as hell. I don’t want to lose my job.”
“Oh, fuck that!” Cal shouts. The fierce tone of voice makes me jerk my head back up. “You’re the best goddamn wide receiver in the league. Probably the best in decades, Van, and you got a lot of years left in you. They’re not gonna shit-can you for being gay.”
Red-hot rage boils over, incinerating the fear and shame. “You can’t say that, Cal! No one can. You know how shit works around jocks and sports. If it got out that I was….”
“Gay?” Cal supplies.
“Fuck. Yes, if it got out I was gay, they’d find a way to get rid of me, or the defensive line would go after me until I was injured and my career over. The rest of the team won’t be as accepting as you, Cal.” I slump over, exhausted. “I’m tired, man. I’m going to take a nap before the team meeting.”
“All right, Van.” Cal stands and straightens his shirt. “I’m gonna go downstairs and grab a bite. You want me to bring you something?”
“I’m not hungry.”
Cal’s hand lands on my shoulder. “I think you’re underestimating your teammates, Van. You gotta have faith.”
Before I can answer, Cal leaves.
Faith. Fuck faith. I dig out my phone and stare at the screen. Still no word from Toby.
Faith never got anyone anything. Never got me anything.
I strip out of the suit, slip on sweats and a loose tee, and climb on top of the covers. Closing my eyes, I try to clear my mind, but all I see is dark hair and clear blue eyes surrounded by thick black lashes, and a narrow, toned waist.
Fuck.
If this excruciating pain is love, I’d rather be alone.
Toby
THE DAY seems so innocuous. Everyone around me is going about his or her business, having lunch, smiling and laughing. Not me. Today is my worst nightmare about to come true. While the couple next to me feeds each other sushi from chopsticks, I’m sweating bullets and struggling to keep from running for the bathroom to heave into the toilet.
When the tiny bell over the door rings, my gaze follows the sound. Bile creeps up my throat, burning. I reach for my glass of water, but my hand is too shaky to chance spilling it. The newcomer weaves through the tables, smiling, handsome, and well dressed. He approaches my corner and stops next to my table.
“Toby, how have you been?” His voice is just as smooth and seductive as I remember. Only now instead of lighting up my insides, it gives me chills.
“Austin.” It’s the only word I can get out, unable to manage more. My hands curl into fists, and I hide them under the table, out of sight of Austin’s sharp eyes. The man misses nothing. Perceptive fucker.
Austin gracefully slides into the chair across from me and casually flips open a menu as if this were the most normal thing in the world. “The yellow tail is excellent here. Oh, but I forget, you prefer spicy tuna.” Austin’s eyes flick to mine, cold and calculating. “Isn’t that right, love?”
“Don’t call me that.” Fury mixes with choking terror, leaving me breathless. I want to either leap over the table to punch him right on his chiseled jaw or stand and run like hell out of here. Both ideas are spinning in my stressed-out mind.
Austin puts an elbow on the table, propping one cheek on his hand. “Awwww, Tobias, don’t be like that.”
“Fuck you, Austin.” I shudder when he uses my full name. How did I ever think that was sexy? “Why am I here? What the hell do you want?” I sound much more confident than I feel.
The waiter interrupts to take our order. Like I could eat. I pass on food, and Austin asks for a bowl of miso. Once the server is gone, Austin answers my question.
“Money, of course. I only want what’s mine, Tobias.” Austin leans back in his chair, a smug smile on his face. “You know this.”
Of course. Money. It’s always about money with Austin. Money and control. His two favorite things, and right now, Austin has complete control over me. All he needs is the money.
“How long have you been following me, Austin? Huh? You sick bastard. It’s been over a year—”
Austin bangs his fist on the table, rattling the silverware and earning a few worried glances from other patrons. “You owe me, you little shit! I supported your ass for years, and as soon as you struck it rich, you left! I want my share!”
I clench my jaw hard enough to potentially chip a tooth. He’s crazy. Logic doesn’t work with Austin—never has, never will. Arguing is pointless. Reminding him that when we were together, I had a job he made me quit won’t change his mind.
“How much?” I hiss.
Austin grins, the detached look in his eyes making him appear more like a serial killer than a fancy LA lawyer. “Two million.”
My stomach drops. “What?” I sputter. “I can’t do that. The government will—”
“I have it all taken care of, love.”
“Don’t fucking call me that, Austin!”
My sadistic ex holds his palms up while giving me a patronizing grin. “Calm down, now. No need for your usual hysterics,
Tobias. If you don’t want to give me the money, I can get at least that much for the pictures of you and your famous boyfriend.” His eyes narrow, his thin mouth pinching into a frown. “I have to say, it hurt to see you moved on from me, Tobias. And such a big, burly guy. I didn’t think you liked the jock type.”
“Shut up.”
I want to strangle him. Hurt him. Claw his eyes out. Make him bleed. But I can’t. I can’t do anything. If I do, Van will be exposed, outed, his career ruined. I don’t doubt for one second that Austin would sell the pictures of Van and me kissing outside the Ford factory and in my parking lot, or holding hands as we enter my building. I’m right back where I was when I lived with him, under his thumb, under his complete control.
Trapped. Vulnerable. Owned.
“What’s your decision? Money or your closeted NFL player’s reputation?”
“Send me the details of the transfer.” I push back from the table and stand, turning to leave.
“Oh, Tobias?” Austin calls out. I stop, stamping down the urge to kick his face until it’s covered in blood. “It was good to see you again.”
I storm out of the restaurant, holding my breath until I’m in the fresh air. Chest heaving, I drag in a ragged breath as the first tear falls. By the time I reach my car, my cheeks are wet and my vision blurry. I ignore the pitying looks of passersby and climb behind the wheel, slamming the door shut. Once alone in the privacy of my little sedan, I sob openly, crying into my hands until there’s nothing left.
How am I going to tell Van?
Van
I’M SO keyed up and worried, I can hardly think. Yesterday’s game in New York wasn’t my best, but we pulled out the win despite my shitty performance. Today was worse, meetings and practice all day, plus Coach reaming my ass for not having my head in the game against the Giants. And the thing is, he’s right. My head wasn’t in the game. To be honest, it’s still not in it. Until I speak to Toby, I won’t be able to concentrate on anything.
The second we’re allowed to leave the Wild Cats facility, I head straight to the parking lot and peel out. Something’s wrong. I know it. Toby wouldn’t stop answering his phone or refuse to text me. Not after the amazing sex we had on Thursday. It wasn’t even sex; it was more than that. It was an experience unlike any I’ve ever had. He felt it too. I saw it in his eyes, felt it in the way he kissed me, the way we came together as one.
The second I throw the car in park, I leap out and take the stairs three at a time, reaching Toby’s apartment seconds after arriving. I knock loudly, unable to stay calm. My nerves are eating away at my insides, shredding my heart piece by piece until every single beat physically hurts.
I’m about to knock again, or hell, break down the door, when it opens to reveal a shockingly ill-looking Toby.
“What happened to you?” I step inside and pull him into my arms, squeezing tight. “Jesus, you scared the shit out of me.” I bury my nose in his thick hair and inhale, the coconut of Toby’s shampoo mixing with his own warm scent.
Toby hugs me back, but it’s weak, passive. This isn’t the passionate young man I left four days ago. I pull back to look in his eyes. The ice blue is dull, the spark of life gone. His skin is pasty, and there are dark smudges beneath his eyes.
“What the fuck is going on, Toby?” When he doesn’t answer, I pick him up and carry him to his bedroom, then lay him gently on top of the mattress. I push my shoes off and join him, pulling him close and throwing a leg over him. “Baby, tell me what’s happening. You’re scaring me.” I caress his cheek, running my hand down his neck.
“I-I can’t do this, Van.”
“Do what?”
Toby’s body is stiff against mine. He doesn’t sink into my arms, doesn’t respond to my touches. A lump forms in my throat, and unease blooms in the pit of my stomach.
“This….” Toby’s voice cracks, and his breath hitches. “I can’t be with you, Van. I’m sorry.”
Even with the roaring of my splintering heart whooshing behind my eardrums, I can hear the small sob escape from Toby’s chest as he twists out of my arms and climbs off the bed.
I jump to my feet, standing in front of him. Toby is hunched over, arms wrapped around his waist, head down. “Don’t do this, baby. Please.” When I extend an arm to touch him, Toby steps back, shivering.
“Please don’t make this any more difficult than it is,” he whispers.
Fear trickles down my spine, spreading out over my skin like a layer of frost. “Why?” I ask, my own voice rough.
Toby holds his head up high, jutting out his chin. “I can’t be your secret, Van. Your piece on the side. Eventually the questions will start and you’ll find some beautiful woman to be your beard, maybe a fake marriage to go with it. House. Kids. Dog.” Toby continues his uncharacteristic rant, his body language and sharp words meaning to cut me down, but his eyes—those mesmerizing, crystal clear eyes—tell a different story. They reflect the same agony currently tearing at my insides.
“Why are you doing this, Toby? Why now? I thought….” I fist my hands at my sides, so frustrated and hurt I’m tempted to lash out and take a swing at the nearest wall. It’s almost impossible to squelch the urge, but I manage, barely. Only the thought of breaking my hand and riding the bench has me holding back.
And there’s the problem, right there. My career always comes first. It always will. Football, then everything else in my life.
“You’re right,” I say, defeated. Toby’s glistening eyes widen. “You deserve better than me, Toby.”
Without another word, I turn around and put on my shoes, keeping my face hidden. No need to let Toby see my own glistening eyes or the heartbreak they hold inside. I’ve hurt Toby enough. He doesn’t need to feel guilty simply for protecting his own heart from a selfish asshole like me.
Of course, since I am a selfish asshole, I can’t help but stop in front of the beautiful man I had hoped to get to know better. I skim my thumb across those plump lips and wipe a tear from his ruddy cheek.
“Good-bye, Toby.” I give him a sad smile and leave.
Once the door clicks behind me, I lean against the wall in the narrow corridor and let my head thump back.
Alone. Again. This is my future if I can’t accept who I am and live the way I want.
I must be deep in my own head because I don’t hear a door open or any footsteps until a person speaks.
“Van? What are you doing out here?”
Surprised, I jerk upright to see Leo standing in front of me in all his bleach-blond, bright-colored glory.
“Hey, Leo. I was just leaving.”
“Leaving? What? Why? Didn’t you just get back in town?” He gives me a wicked grin and wiggles his brows. “I figured you two would be burning up the sheets by now.”
“Yeah, well, that makes two of us,” I snap. Leo gasps, and I immediately feel like a douche bag. “Sorry. I just… it was nice knowing you, Leo.”
I turn to leave, and Leo leaps in front of me, blocking my path. “What are you talking about?” His sharp gaze narrows as he studies my face. If I look half as bad as I feel, I’m not surprised when Leo’s jaw drops and his eyes bulge. “Did you… did you guys break up?”
Suddenly I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Anger and frustration well up, overtaking my body. “Ask Toby. I’m outta here.” I shove past Leo, not giving a shit that he gasps as I knock him aside.
Fuck this and fuck them. Fuck everything!
I jump in my SUV and rev the engine. If I don’t get somewhere I can hit something or let out the dark, tangled, conflicting emotions growing inside of me, I’m afraid I might do something I’ll regret. Remembering I have a good-size punching bag in my home gym, I shove the car into drive and spin the tires on the pavement as I pull out into traffic and head home.
Home. That big, cold, hideous house I loathe. Everything about my life is a fucking joke and a lie.
And isn’t that the worst part of it all? I’m not just lying to everyone I know,
I’m lying to myself.
The thought makes me laugh hysterically until I turn into my driveway and stop the car. That’s when the laughter turns to tears, and I sit there sobbing until I’m wrung dry.
I can’t go on like this.
Chapter 10
Toby
“GOD, TOBY. You look like shit.”
I grimace at Leo. “Thanks.”
“Seriously,” Leo says. “This whole look.” He waves in my direction. “This… this unshaven, postmodern slob thing you have going on really isn’t working for you.”
“I’m not in the mood, Leo,” I warn, tired of hearing him harp on me. In the three weeks since I broke up with Van and paid Austin to keep the incriminating photos secret, I’ve hardly left my apartment. The studio found someone to take over my yoga classes for now, and I retreated into a protective shell.
“Hmph. You’re never in the mood for anything anymore. I don’t get you, Toby. I thought you liked Van. Why on earth did you break up with him? I mean, yeah, he’s a jock and in the closet, and okay, I’ll admit, it would suck being stuck in there with him, but seriously? The man made you happy, Toby, and he really cared about you. What gives?”
“Leo, please,” I beg, too exhausted to have this discussion again.
Leo throws his arms up in annoyance. “Well, deny what I said, Toby! I keep mentioning how good you were with Van and how happy you were, and instead of defending your choice to break up with him, you simply change the subject until I give up!” Leo scowls and puts his hands on his hips. “Not once have you said you broke up with Van because you didn’t like him or thought you two wouldn’t work out. Not once.”
