“Sure you don’t want to be a coach, Trick?” Jack O’Malley, our defensive head coach, joked.
“See me in six or seven years,” I teased.
Coach Jackson clapped his hands. “All right, fellas. That’s it. Dinner together, and you’re on your own for the evening. I know it’s Friday night, but stay out of the clubs. Be in your rooms by eleven—I’ll be knockin’. See you tomorrow at breakfast, eight sharp, and we’ll go for practice.”
On the way to the hotel, Harte asked, “Wanna go out after dinner? Have a beer?”
I’d been getting vibes all day from Harte—interested ones, I believed—and I needed to stay friendly but distant. As well as we were getting along, I wasn’t ready to reveal any part of my personal life.
“I can’t. I’m meeting a friend. Sorry.”
He shrugged. “No worries.” We pulled into the hotel driveway and exited the bus. “I’m hungry. I hope the food is good.”
They’d set up a buffet for us in one of the larger conference rooms, and I filled my plate and joined Rio, Troy, and Lincoln. They were talking about going out, and I mentioned Harte wanted to hang out.
“I’m going to visit a friend.” I wiped my mouth and tossed the napkin. “See you in the morning.”
“A friend. Is that what you’re calling it now? Remember, Coach said bedtime was eleven, so get in and out quickly, my brother.” Rio laughed and elbowed Troy.
“Very funny.” But I smirked and flipped them off. I was anxious to get to Fallon. I’d had enough of being with my teammates all day. I needed some alone time with my guy.
In the car, I texted him I was on my way over, and he sent me his room number. At my first knock he opened the door. His hair was loose, and he stood barefoot. I stepped inside and reached for him, but he ducked me.
“Don’t give those sexy eyes. I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint you.”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“I have the stomach virus from hell. Something I ate for dinner must’ve done a number on me.” Now that he mentioned it, he did look a little pale. A strange gurgling noise emanated from his midsection, and alarm rose in his eyes. “Oh, God. Here it goes again.” He took off running, and I was about to follow him when I heard the door to the bathroom slam shut and his moans and groans.
“Think I’ll stay right out here.” I called room service. “Could you send up some tea with honey and toast?”
“Yes, sir.”
Ten minutes later, I answered the door, and a young man walked in with a tray. “Here you go…oh.” His eyes bugged out. “You’re Patrick Sloane.”
“Yeah. Thanks.” I handed him two twenties.
“Yeah, wow, sure.” He chewed his lip. “Would you mind…”
“Not at all.” I stood, he took some selfies, and I signed the napkin for him. He left, and I shut the door and locked it.
White and shaky on his feet, Fallon emerged from the bedroom.
“What’s that?”
“Tea and toast. I figured it might be good to settle your stomach.” To my surprise, his eyes grew shiny, and I crossed the room in two long strides. “Fal, what’s wrong? Are you really sick? Do you need me to call a doctor?”
He shook his head, his hair hiding his face. “No,” he whispered. “Thank you for doing this for me.”
“Come on and sit, and I’ll pour the hot water. Maybe it’s time someone looked after you, the way you’re always solving everyone else’s problems.” I steered him toward the sofa and helped settle him with a pillow, then made his tea with a little honey. “Here. This is what my mother always gave me if I had a stomachache.”
Fallon blew on it and took a sip before setting it on the coffee table. “My mother would send me to the doctor. As a child, I used to get sick every winter—that’s one of the many reasons my father thought of me as weaker than Rory. He was stronger, better in school, played sports—that’s how he met Dev—and all around the better son.”
I’d read and heard the stories about families that showed favoritism for one child—lucky me for being an only—yet I couldn’t conceive of loving one child more than another. As a child, I used to wish for a brother I could play with, but when I grew older, I appreciated the undivided attention from my parents. I’d only known unconditional love.
“You’re a terrific person, and I’m sure you were a wonderful son. You don’t need their approval anymore.”
“I don’t know why I feel like I still do.”
