He spun his fingers, in a circle. “Turn over. I need to get the oils into your arms and chest.”
I did as he asked and closed my eyes. Training camp and the season would make our social lives pretty much nonexistent, so we had plenty of time to spend with each other. And I was fine with that. There was no one else I’d rather be with. It had been so damn lonely all these years without him, and going to sleep and waking up with him every night and day was exactly how I’d pictured it. Our sex life had only gotten better, which I hadn’t thought possible, and I knew it was because we were finally together where we belonged.
“You must be thinking about some really beautiful lady,” Enzo murmured, and my eyes flew open. The tent in the sheet covering my hips was impossible to miss. My fault for thinking about Brody. My cheeks burned, but all I could do was shrug and laugh it off.
“You know how it is.” Damn, did that sound as lame as I thought?
Enzo took it in stride. “Better make sure it’s packed away before you go outside. That’s a deadly weapon. You might get arrested.”
I rolled my eyes. “Knock it off.”
“I’m serious. Or maybe go find a pretty lady to help you with that.” One last rub, and he was finished. He wiped off the excess oil and handed me my shirt.
“Enough,” I snapped, having reached my limit with people talking about my sex life, but then was instantly contrite. “Sorry. I apologize. I’m just tired.”
“It’s okay. Everything all right? Like I said, you’re very tense.”
I managed a smile. “I’m okay. Preseason nerves, I guess.”
“You’re the best. I think this is the year.”
This time my laughter was genuine. “You say that at the start of every season.”
“But now I see you happy for the first time. You have your best friend with you. That makes all the difference, I think.”
I hopped off the table to put my briefs and shorts on. “Yeah, it does.”
As we walked to the door, he slung an arm around my shoulders. “It’s good to have someone you know will always have your back. Maybe you might think about talking to your parents?”
Startled by the out-of-the-blue remark, I stopped. “What brought this on? Why would I want to talk to them?”
Lines of sorrow etched deep in his face. “Over the summer my mother died. I hadn’t seen nor heard from her in almost twenty years. I tried, but she refused. I didn’t even get a chance to go to her funeral—I found out when someone who didn’t know the extent of our estrangement offered me condolences.” Wetness glimmered in his eyes. “Don’t wait until it’s too late. Death doesn’t give second chances.” He patted me on the shoulder and left.
On my ride home, I thought about that, but I didn’t make plans to change things anytime soon. The main difference was that Enzo’s mother had shown him love before he came out. Mine never did.
And that certainly wouldn’t change if I ever came out to them. I had enough in my life trying to make sure Brody was comfortable up here and keeping the team together. People needed me, and I wasn’t about to jeopardize that for the two people who should love me no matter what but didn’t.
I took out my phone and sent a text.
Coming home. Be ready for me.
I received an immediate answer.
I’m always ready.
That right there was all I needed.
Chapter Eleven
Brody
A week later—first preseason game
“Blue 82, Blue 82, hut, hut.”
I sped to the edge of the line of scrimmage and danced on my feet, waiting. As practiced, I took off for center field, surprising the defensive ends double-teaming me. Or trying to.
“Dev,” I screamed, knowing he couldn’t hear me but hoping he might have that sixth sense we had with each other. And like that Orange Bowl game, he slipped like a runny egg in a nonstick pan, sidestepped, and faded back to throw. The ball soared like an arc in the blue, blue sky and fell in my arms. “Come to Papa.”
