by Eden Finley
I purposefully answer my phone loudly before stepping out of the office. “Hey, babe.”
“I’m dying.” His voice comes with a grunt of pain.
I laugh. He said training was grueling, and I’d never heard him complain about working out before, so it must be bad. “Dying is inconvenient for me. I’m all packed and ready to move. Told my father and everything.” I continue through the reception area of Dad’s offices and out onto the street, feeling lighter than I have in years when it comes to that man.
“How did that go?”
“As well as I expected it to. Why are you dying?”
“I might’ve pulled the macho card yesterday and challenged one of my teammates. Good news is I kicked his ass. Bad news is suicide sprints are called suicides for a reason. I’m sore all over and you’re not here to massage me better.”
“I will be soon. By the time you head back to Chicago, I’ll be all settled in. Then I’ll massage whatever you want.”
He swears under his breath.
“What?”
“Now I’m turned on and I can’t even lift my hand to jerk off. I’m lucky to be able to hold my phone.”
“It’s not right how hard they push you guys.”
Even Matt’s laugh is strained. “This is my own fault. But the good thing is, I think I earned my place. So now if anyone questions me, it’ll purely be about something I can’t change.”
“No one’s brought up the F word yet?”
“No. Unless we’re talking about the word fuck. That comes out of someone’s mouth every two seconds.”
“As expected. I can’t wait until you’re home.”
Matt sighs. “Me too. I still can’t believe you’re moving for me.”
“I’ll do anything for you. Always.”
“Ditto.”
The line goes quiet, and for a second, I think the call has dropped out, but then I realize this is my normal reaction to hearing any form of admission from Matt. Like part of me still doesn’t believe it’s happening or I heard wrong. It’s hard to believe that someone like Matt could fall for someone like me, a guy who’s only cared about himself for a really long time. Matt makes me a better man—someone I never thought I could be.
“What are your plans for your last night in New York?” he asks.
I clear my throat. “I’m, umm, actually going out with Aron. Well, Damon and Maddox and my other friends will be there too, but I need to apologize to Aron again. I handled that situation all wrong.”
“You’ve already apologized countless times.”
“Yeah, but they were all bullshit. I felt bad about it, but I didn’t understand how much he hurt until you left me. I was an asshole to him and shutting him out cold was an even bigger asshole thing to do.”
“Do what you gotta do.”
“You too. Try not to challenge anyone else to a duel like some old-time cowboy.” Mmm, Matt in a cowboy hat. We may have to explore that. I must make some sort of noise in the back of my throat, because Matt laughs.
“You’re picturing me in a cowboy hat, aren’t you?”
“Able to read my mind? We’re that couple already?”
“Do you care if we are?”
I grin. “Not at all.”
“I gotta go—another day of torture ahead of me—but I’ll see you in a few weeks.”
“I’ll be waiting naked for you.”
“Our new apartment doesn’t have curtains.”
“There’s one way to introduce myself to the neighbors.”
“You would too.”
“Jackson,” a voice barks in the background. “Just because you were all ass-kicking motherfucker yesterday, doesn’t mean you can slack off today.”
“I’m up, I’m up. I’ll be down in five. Gotta go, babe. Love you.”
The phone disconnects, and my heart does that stuttering thing again and gets stuck on the words babe and love you.
Even though he’s already gone, I can’t stop myself from saying, “Love you too.”
Matt’s still inside me when I come out of my orgasmic trance and take in my surroundings. With carpet beneath my knees, cum all over my hand and stomach, Matt panting above me, and my own breath stilted, I come to the conclusion I attacked Matt as soon as he walked in the front door.
Not my original plan for his welcome back, but it works.
“That’s one way to welcome me home,” Matt says and slides out of me.
He said it.
We both collapse onto the floor, side by side. My knees have carpet burn, my ass kind of hurts from not enough prep, but I can’t find any fucks to give. We were in too much of a hurry.
“I don’t know how I’m going to survive when you’re at away games,” I say.
“Only about half of them will be away games. Will be nowhere near as bad as training camp. You’re lucky I don’t play hockey. Their schedule is nuts.”
We continue to lie in the front entrance of the apartment, breathing heavy with a comfortable silence between us.
Matt’s the first one to regain composure and sit up. “Whoa. You, like, furnished and decorated in here. We have curtains.”
I laugh. “It’s cute you think I could pull something like this off.”
“Then who?”
I bite my lip. “Aron.”
“Huh?”
“So, when we went out, I pulled him aside to apologize, but before I could get any words out, he thanked me.”
“Thanked you? For being a dick?”
“I have magical asshole matchmaking powers. Do you remember Wyatt? Short, blond, angry dude?”
“No.”
I shrug. “Anyway, they hooked up as kind of a rebound thing, and then they realized they were good together. Or something. I dunno. They’re dating and apparently, it’s serious. They both helped me move and get the apartment ready for you to come home.”
“Only you could screw someone over and still hold enough charm to have that same person do you a favor.”
“I’m awesome like that.” I grin.
Matt leans over and kisses my sweaty forehead. “So awesome.”
“Ignoring your sarcasm. How was the rest of camp?”
“Good. After the thing with Carter, he’s left me alone and even says hi in passing. The first few games were rough, but preseason doesn’t count for standings, and the team looks good. We were starting to gel in the end.”
“You didn’t get shit from the other teams?”
“A little, but not as bad as I thought. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I was planning for the worst. It’s all just smack talk. It’s like their loophole. They can’t do anything to me, but they can try to psyche me out. But the good thing is, I can do it back to them. Like tell them they better hope I don’t like it too much when they tackle me.”
I laugh. “That’s brilliant.”
“Yeah, still didn’t stop them from hitting hard. Thought it could’ve been an effective offensive strategy. Give the gay guy the football because no one will want to touch him. Turns out the power of football is bigger than homophobia. Who knew?”
“That’s good at least.”
“The real test will be when the actual season starts next week. Especially considering our first game is against the Bulldogs.”
I wince. “Is that an away game or home? Either way, I’m gonna be there.”
“Home game.”
“I’m gonna be at all your home games.”
“Do you even like football?”
“Umm … I could learn to like it. And even if I don’t know what’s going on, I get to look at a group of men in those tights. I’ll be fine.”
Matt bursts out laughing. “Fuck, I love you.”
“Of course, you do. I’m a lovable guy. It just took you forever to see it.”
He kisses me long and hard until we’re left panting and breathless when he pulls away.
“What’s the plan now we have everything?” I ask.
“Super Bowl ring. New cont
ract. Launch your charity …” He grabs my left hand and rubs over my ring finger. “Maybe a different kinda ring eventually.”
“Eventually? We should lock that down asap.” Okay, wasn’t supposed to propose like that, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want it.
Matt pulls back. “Seriously?”
“I know you’re the one for me. If you can face off with my dad and still want to be with me, I never want to let you go.”
“I want nothing more than to marry you, but it’d be a PR nightmare right now.”
“Who says we have to tell anyone? We could go to a courthouse or Vegas.”
I can practically see the lightbulb go off above Matt’s head. “We have a bye week in week nine.”
Decision made, I stand and pull Matt up off the floor. I bypass the discarded clothes, the suitcase that’s toppled on its side, and the fact the whole foyer looks like a crime scene and drag Matt over to the floor to ceiling windows of the apartment that overlook Chicago.
“I better do this right.” I sink to one knee and stare up at my future. “Matt, not Matthew, Jackson. Will you marry me?”
“Only if we can tell people we were wearing clothes when you proposed.”
I laugh. “I’ll take it.” I get to my feet and kiss my fiancé for the very first time.
It definitely won’t be the last.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Matt
FIVE MONTHS LATER
We’ve lost. We’ve fucking lost. I don’t know whether to sink to my knees and cry or just collapse to the ground and not get back up.
“Jackson,” Talon barks at me in the huddle. “Head in the game. We’re not done yet.”
With less than a minute on the clock, and us at the twenty-yard line, it’s not impossible to pull this off, but all the fight in us is gone.
One touchdown. That’s all we need. So close yet still so fucking far away.
We’re this close—this close—to winning the whole damn show, but we’re running on steam.
The bright lights no longer light us up like gods but blind us and highlight our mistakes. Our fumbles. Our missed passes. We should’ve had this in the bag. We almost did.
Then we choked.
Not only did they catch up to our twenty-one-point lead, they’ve annihilated us and have run us ragged ever since. We’ve caught up, but I don’t know if it’s enough to get us over the line.
I don’t want to give up, but my head decides to show its pessimistic side in the face of getting everything I’ve ever wanted for my whole life.
The grass no longer smells like fresh turf but of sweat and failure.
We’ve fought hard, but Denver has fought harder.
The screaming crowd no longer cheers our encouragement but fills our ears with taunts to pull our heads out of our asses.
“We get the ball to Carter,” Talon says. “That’s all we have to do and those championship rings are ours.”
I want to yell it’s what we’ve been trying for two plays already and it ain’t workin’, but I don’t. I listen to my QB, yell “Break” along with everyone else, and take my position in the line of scrimmage. My knees protest, my back tenses, but I can’t think about the pain.
Third down. One minute to go. I yell at myself that we’re still in this, but the pressure breathing down my neck says we’re gonna choke. And once you’re in that mindset, it may as well be game over.
Talon yells “Hut” and I do what I know. That’s all I can do at this point. I slam into Denver’s linebacker and ignore the jolt down my side as we collide.
The amount of hits I’ve taken tonight is no more than I normally would, but each painful twinge, every sore muscle, it reminds me what’s at stake and amplifies in feeling and intensity.
Carter’s taken down. Again.
This is it. Last down. No more chances. We don’t make this play, we truly have lost.
Same plan. Same play.
Only, a single voice yells at the team. “Blue Eighteen.”
Play change where I get in the line of fire to receive the ball.
Holy shit.
Then Talon’s voice repeats the same thing, and I realize we’re more than fucked, because it’s up to me. What in the hell is Talon thinking?
I don’t have time to freak out though.
“Set. Hut.”
Years of training. A lifetime of wishing. My prison. My escape. My love for the game all comes down to this.
My legs push faster than they ever have before. My arms grow muscles I didn’t know I have. I knock everyone in my path down, cross the end zone, and land that pass like my life depends on it.
And when I realize I’ve done it? The world fades away, and I really do sink to my knees and cry.
I don’t have long enough for it to sink in completely when strong arms reach under me and lift me to my feet, and then I’m there, staring into the eyes of the most idiotic quarterback I’ve ever encountered.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I yell. Any other game, it would’ve just been another play. You don’t do that in the dang Super Bowl. “Why did you do that?”
“Worked, didn’t it?” He throws his arms around me, and then the rest of the team is there. Yelling, shouting, the deafening screams of the crowd …
We did it? We actually freaking did it.
The field is a blur of activity. I’m attacked from all angles from each of my teammates, and even Carter takes me in a crushing hug.
“Good catch.” He grins.
By the time we’re ushered into the locker rooms to shower and change, the smiles can’t be wiped from our faces, and our spirits couldn’t be higher.
Miller hobbles into the locker room in his civilian clothes and Warriors jacket when we’re almost ready to get out of here, and Talon freezes.
“You’re here,” Talon says, his voice croaky.
The very second game of the season, Miller fell hard and didn’t get back up. Torn hamstring. Six months recovery. It took him out for the entire season, so he’s been at home with his family in New York instead of in Chicago with us.
Miller’s lips quirk. “What, you think I was gonna miss this?”
Talon’s mouth remains agape.
“That’s how you catch flies,” I say and reach over to shut his mouth.
They share a weird bro hug that I can’t be bothered to decipher. All I know is Talon’s been lost without Miller, but right now, I have bigger things to worry about.
I grab the ring box out of my gear bag and take a deep breath.
It’s over. The season is officially done, and Noah and I made a pact. We announce it to the world tonight that we’re married. Have been since week nine of the season. Damon, Maddox, and JJ were the only witnesses to the nuptials, so they know, but no one else. Until now.
“Whoa, is that what I think it is?” Talon says over my shoulder, staring at the platinum band.
I laugh. “Probably not. It’s not an engagement ring.” I take the ring out and slip it on. “You might want to hurry up and finish putting your suit on. You don’t want to miss my statement to the press.”
I leave their stunned faces and head to the locker room door where I know press will be waiting outside to talk to us. Talon and Miller chase after me, although Miller struggles to keep up with his leg.
There’ll be an official press conference later about the game, and they’ll want me for that, but that won’t be the place to do this.
As expected, the hallway is filled with cameras and reporters, and behind them, up the corridor a bit farther, is the man himself. The one I get to come home to every day for the rest of my life.
Microphones are shoved in my face and questions are shouted at me. The one that sticks out is “How does it feel having made the winning touchdown?”
I simply smile and stare at Noah while I say, “It was the second most fulfilling moment of my life.” Knowing the follow-up question will be what the first was, I answer before they ask it. “Nothing will be
at the day I married my husband, but this is pretty close.”
Nothing else needs to be said, so I push my way through the throng of media where I greet my husband with a kiss that will go viral on the internet within minutes.
As I stand at the bar at the Rainbow Beds fundraiser in New York and go to take a sip of my scotch, my eye catches on my hand, and it pauses halfway to my mouth. I’m still not used to it—the championship ring or the wedding band—but I can’t get enough of either of them.
Maddox swats my hand away before I get to take a drink. “Yeah, yeah, we get it. You won the Super Bowl. Put the ring away already.”
I raise my hand to run through my hair, purposefully showing it off more. “Don’t know why you’re complaining. You’re getting ten percent of my new contract because of the ring.”
Maddox smirks. “Thanks for buying us a house, by the way.”
“You’re welcome.” The words sound sarcastic, but I actually mean it. I stare at my drink, trying to find the courage to say what I want to say—what I’ve wanted to say to Maddox for a long time. “I never thanked you for turning up on my doorstep and introducing me to Damon. You saved more than my career that night.” I never told anyone about how dark I went after I was outed. I don’t know how far I would’ve gone if Maddox hadn’t given me hope.
He elbows me. “I never thanked you for making me realize I might not be entirely straight. Even if it did take another four years to acknowledge it.”
“Call it even?”
Maddox throws his arms around me and holds me tight.
“Hands off my husband,” Noah growls beside us, appearing out of nowhere. I wonder how much he heard.
“He was mine first,” Maddox says, and I playfully push him off me. “Geez, I’m kidding. I have my own man around here somewhere.”
My mother-in-law approaches us with her hands on her trim waist and a perfectly shaped eyebrow raised. “Noah, you should be working the room, not spending time with your husband. You can do that at home.” She steps forward to drag him away but touches my forearm as they pass. “Even if you do look amazing in that suit.” She leans in and kisses my cheek, and I thank God at least one of my in-laws likes me. What she likes more, though, is the fact Noah’s passionate about something for once. He speaks of Rainbow Beds like it’s his baby.
