“When some guy you’re barely related to called in a favor, and now you’re taking in your nephew on no warning as a favor to your mom?How often does she call you otherwise?”
Ben swallowed.“Usually once a year, around my birthday.”
“Not even on it?”
Ben shook his head.
“And how often do you call her?”
“I stopped a couple years ago.”
“Why?”
“She never answered.”
Phil nodded sharply.“So you left your family and the church on your terms, wrote a whole bunch of articles about it even, but almost two decades on, you still jump when they say jump.”
Ben sucked in a breath.Phil had looked him up.Ben wasn’t ashamed of his old articles, not even the ones he’d written at twenty-five, bitter and angry and hurting, but he’d never had a partner read them either.Not that Phil counted as a partner.“Leaving isn’t easy.”
“Yeah, well, neither is rehabbing an ACL tear I might never have gotten if you’d just gone to the police with Pulvermacher’s insane theory like a normal person!”
The bright light in the kitchen made Ben’s eyes gritty, as if he’d woken up in the wrong part of his sleep cycle.He could hear the video game from the living room and the muffled laughter of eight other men he’d let down without their knowledge.
“I didn’t give you your Christmas present,” Ben said eventually.
He pulled the sticky note out of his pocket and stuck it to Phil’s chest.“There you go.”
Phil blinked down at it.“What’s this?”
“‘S Pulvermacher’s private phone number and email address.”
“And what am I supposed to do with it?”
“Apply for head coach.”
Phil reared back, eyes wide.“What?”
“You’re retiring, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, you’ve gotta do something after.You’re a great coach.Way better than me, which is a low bar.But also way better than Trout and, honestly, Edwards.You’re the only person who knows my job will be up for grabs.You’ve got the in—use it.I’d put in a good word for you, but Pulvermacher doesn’t like me.”
“Oh.”Phil stared down at the sticky note.
“You should do it,” Ben insisted.“You’re the best man for the job.”
Taking a deep breath, Phil reached into his own pocket.“If we’re doing gifts now, here’s yours.”
He handed Ben a jewelry box.With a sinking feeling, Ben popped it open.
“You can’t be with me because you need a real marriage?”Phil asked.“What’s stopping us from having that?”
“You’re straight,” Ben said, dumbfounded and unable to look away from the two gold rings nestled together in the soft bed of the box.
Phil snorted, a sad facsimile of his real laugh.“Of course I’m not fucking straight, Ben.I may not have every answer you’re looking for right at this moment, but I wouldn’t want this with you if I didn’t wantyou.”
Phil stalked past Ben toward the door, then paused.He turned on his heel to press a single, devastating, rum-scented kiss to Ben’s cheek.“Someday, I hope you find the guts to stop hiding behind people who never deserved to call you family.I’m right here, and I can show you what that word really means, you and Charlie.But you’ve got to let me.”
