Back at Nixon’s condo, we ordered in lunch and spent most of the afternoon trying to talk about anything other than the fate of an openly gay man in professional football. Zach talked a bit about his brother’s boyfriend, who happened to be one of the many gay baseball players who’d come out in recent years. At least he’d be able to turn to them for advice when this story finally broke.
Late in the afternoon, Zach walked across the room to stare blankly over the balcony. When he opened the door to step outside, I began to follow. “You want company?”
“If it’s all the same to you, I need a minute alone,” he told me with a thin smile and a shrug.
Now that we’d gotten him to talk a little bit about how he felt about coming out, it seemed his tank was running on empty. There was no doubt in my mind that if Nixon offered him the spare bedroom, he’d be sound asleep within minutes.
Without the buffer of knowing Zach was watching us, a bit too carefully at times, I could feel Nixon’s gaze searing into the back of my head. My hands twitched with the need to reach out to him when he stepped up next to me. “You think he’ll be okay?”
“It’s going to get worse before it gets better,” Nixon said bluntly.
Sadly, he was probably right. It was one thing to worry about the prospect of having news like this break, but no one could know how the public would react or what that’d do to Zach’s psyche.
The hair on my arm stood when Nixon brushed against me. I shivered, trying to remind myself Nixon couldn’t be the man I wished he could be. I was trying to step out and live my life, and he’d been clear he’d never let his private life creep into the public eye.
“I have no clue what’ll happen. Or when.” It spoke to Nixon’s character that he was so upset about one of his players.
He liked to pretend he wasn’t interested in their personal lives, but I always figured he knew more than anyone would suspect, simply because he was a master of sitting back and paying attention. He’d vehemently deny anything of the sort if I ever mentioned that trait to him, so I kept my mouth shut.
“I’m sure he’ll be fine. You’re probably right that it’ll get ugly for a while, but he strikes me as the type of guy who’s not going to go down without a fight.” I didn’t know Zach well, but I was impressed by his strength. Yes, I’d seen the cracks, but I’d also seen his resilience.
Zach had been on the phone for a while, and the longer they talked, the more upset he became.
I excused myself, saying it was just to check on him. The truth was, I needed a break, because being alone with Nixon was crushing my resolve to enjoy this time with my friend, go back home, and find someone to help me forget about him.
Even if there wasn’t so much water under the bridge between us, I had to admit Nixon and I would never want the same things in life. I’d known when he suggested seeing if the chemistry between us was real that he viewed me as a safe outlet for his bottled-up sexual frustration because I wasn’t ready to be out.
But unlike him, Iwantedto be out. I was tired of lying about who I was. That was something we’d never share.
“Wait, they didn’t fire you, did they?” Zach bolted upright in the chair he’d been sitting in and started twisting an empty water bottle in his hands. “I swear, if they did, we’ll call PJ in the morning and get the name of the best damn lawyer we can find. He had someone all lined up in case he needed their help when he and Nate got together. They’re not getting away with this. You busted your ass for them. You didn’t walk away when you had a feeling they were up to something. They’re not going to shit all over you!”
I stepped up behind Zach and placed a hand on his shoulder. Nixon’s place might give the illusion of privacy, but voices carried and I doubted Zach wanted anyone overhearing his side of this conversation. “Everything okay?”
He held up a finger, then waved me back inside. I nodded and backed away. Whatever was going on, he’d tell us if and when he was ready.
“That seemed like it went well,” Nixon quipped when I closed the door behind me.
I sighed, feeling utterly helpless. I was a fixer, the person my teammates used to come to when they had problems. When I retired, speaking to younger players seemed a natural next step. But now, I was clueless about how to help Zach.
Nixon motioned for me to follow him to the living area. I took a seat on the couch while he poured each of us a drink. I’d need to switch to water soon, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to drive back to the hotel, and staying here wasn’t an option.
Rather than sitting in the chair he’d occupied most of the day, Nixon sat on the cushion next to me. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this mess.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I told him, tentatively reaching out to rest my hand on his knee. I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t help myself. Every ounce of logic escaped me; every argument for why I shouldn’t even think about exploring the attraction I’d always felt for Nixon dissolved with the hitch of Nix’s breath. We both stared at that point of contact. I tried to ignore the twinge I felt when Nixon pulled away. It was a reminder that Nixon would never be comfortable with anything that could be perceived as intimacy unless he knew we were alone. “I’d have been more upset if you hadn’t asked me to talk to him.”
“Why’s that?” Nixon leaned forward, took a sip from his glass. It was impossible to turn my gaze away from the dip of his Adam’s apple. I wanted to lean in and press my lips to his neck.Shit.
“I’ve been quiet too long,” I admitted, feeling heat creep up my neck. Shame. Guilt. Frustration. My body was a tornado of emotions I couldn’t fight. “He deserved to know he’s not alone. It’s not enough, but being able to give that to him helps. I’m going to make sure he knows he can call me anytime. There may be issues that come up that he doesn’t want to bring to you and Teddy, but he needs to know there’s someone willing to listen. If I can be that for him, everyone wins.”
“No one expects that of you,” Nixon insisted. “And I didn’t call you so you could beat yourself up. No one blames you for keeping quiet.”
I held up my hand to silence him before he could start rattling off all the reasons I’d given him over the years for why I couldn’t—wouldn’t—come out.
Hunter.
Isabella.
My parents.
