“YOU LOOK LIKE Mary Fucking Sunshine,” Brandon greeted me with that absurdly stupid grin on his tan face.
“Shut the fuck up,” I grouched, slamming the door behind me. As I dropped my bag onto my desk, Brandon didn’t miss a beat in moving right next to me. Draping his arm around my shoulder, he pulled me close as if he was consoling me. “Aw, did someone have a rough night? She leave before you could get her number?” He spoke in a mock sad voice, sticking out his lower lip for an even more exaggerated effect.
On any other day, I’d smile and laugh at his antics, before dismissing him entirely to review the plans for the day. But today was not my day. With a swift elbow to the ribs, he sucked in a painful breath, choking out, “What the hell was that for?” He coughed and coughed before sinking into his chair, looking over at me as if I was someone he didn’t even know.
And wasn’t that the fucking truth.
Immediately regretful for what I’d done, mostly because I’d have to explain more than I was willing to, “Sorry. Had to take care of my dad this weekend. Just a rough few days.” It wasn’t entirely a lie, just like everything else I’d ever told him.
Brandon adjusted in his seat, looking a little pale in the face. I must’ve gotten him pretty good. That thought made me want to smile, but common decency made me keep it to myself. “That sucks. I didn’t know he was sick.” After taking a few deep breaths, he said, “Come to think of it, I guess I don’t know much about you.”
And that’s exactly how it’s going to stay.
“So I was thinking, today for drills we could split up offense and defense. Let the counselors do some sprints and do some agility with the kids. Have some friendly competitions.” Classic diversion tactic and he knew it. At least the way he was rolling his eyes let me know he probably had a good idea of what I was up to. “What do you think?”
“Sounds good. I’ll get them on it,” he answered. Right before leaving the office, he turned back around and shot me a look I could only call offended. “I’m not as much of an asshole as I seem to be. I’m here if there’s ever anything you need to talk about.” He closed the door, his voice calling out to the counselors to get the gear ready for the day.
It was the sincerest thing he’d ever said to me.
And it was the millionth time I’d lied to him.
As the day carried on, I thought about my habit of lying. Sure, I could make as many “it’s my personal life, and I don’t have to tell anyone I’m gay if I don’t want to” excuses as I wanted. But the honest reality of it all was that I didn’t want to get close to anyone. If I never trusted anyone with who I was, with the real life I led, then I didn’t have to worry about them turning their back on me.
It was the rationale I’d used for all my life in dealing with my father. And it worked.
Until it didn’t.
Sometime after lunch, but before agility drills, I had a revelation that would have been much better placed far earlier in my life.
I’d let my fear of other people knowing me get in the way of actually living my life. Sickness roiled in my gut at thinking about all the years I wasted with my father for fear that he’d turn me away once he knew I was gay.
And then as soon as he knew, what was his reaction? That he’d known all along and that he never loved me any less. I wasn’t foolish enough to believe everyone would have the same reaction, but if they didn’t have a similar one, accepting me for the decent human being I was—gay or straight—then did they really have a place in my life?
The answer, so clear and simple, fell on me like a ton of bricks.
“You okay?” Brandon asked as he moved next to me. “Looks like you saw a ghost.”
Vomit rose in my throat. “I just need to get some water,” I answered quickly before running back into the building. But running probably wasn’t the best choice. Thankfully the angles of the gym hid me from the players and counselors, and they didn’t see me blow chunks like I’d had too much to drink.
Slowly, I walked back into my office, wondering why I was so fucked up, such a hypocrite. Damn, I called Micah a coward.
There was nothing further from the truth.
It took a lot of fucking courage for him to fight a war, to come here, to stay here when it was clear he was dealing with a world of issues I couldn’t even begin to fathom. And there I was, yelling at him because he didn’t wash the fucking dishes.
Swiping a cool rag over my face, I became enraged, not only for hiding who I was, but for bashing Micah for who he was. I vowed to make it all up to him when I got home.
I wasn’t entirely sure how, but there was no way I could deal with my life without him in it. With him here, everything made more sense, the pieces fit together in a way they never did before, and though I knew it wouldn’t be an easy path to travel, I knew there was no one else I’d rather travel it with.
The loud banging on the office door made me jump. “Hold on,” I yelled from the bathroom area. “Be right there.” It wasn’t out of the ordinary for a kid to bang on the door, needing to make a phone call because they left their phone at home, or a bag for the ice machine so they could ice an injury after practice. Of course, when they needed something, it was the only thing that mattered, so they banged on the door as if their life depended on it.
But this was different. Loud and insistent, it didn’t stop when I said, “I’m coming. I said I’d—”
The ground fell out from beneath my feet when I saw Micah standing on the other side of the door, Sarge sitting at his side, distress laced all over his serious face as he nudged his nose under Micah’s hand, whining softly.
Something was seriously wrong.
Over his shoulder, I saw the players begin to file in. The camp day was over and within minutes everyone would be right here.
