“For what?” I asked.
I’d nearly fucked this up before we’d even started, so I didn’t see anything for him to thank me for. If I’d have given in sooner, we could’ve had another month together. But no, I had to be the same miserable bastard everyone was used to and deny my feelings for Lincoln because that was easier than exposing myself, opening myself up to the heartache I’d been certain would follow.
“For coming home with me.” Kiss. “For saying yes.” Nip. “For not letting your fears take over. You’re an incredible man, but I don’t think you see it. You’re so worried about what people will think that you don’t stop to consider what will make you happy.”
“I do,” I insisted, my erection flagging a bit. I wanted to get back to the sex, not have a serious conversation about my hang-ups. But I knew Linc; he needed to get this out before we did anything more.
“You don’t. Not really,” he argued. His fingers traced around my navel, bringing my dick back to life. “You might think about it briefly, but you usually give in to what you’ve always been told about relationships. And I get it, I really do, because when you don’t expose yourself, no one can hurt you. But I’d like to think that, someday, you’ll realize it’s so much better to be happy than to be cautious.”
I tensed for a moment, wondering if this was going to be the end. If he was going to pressure me into jumping out of the closet I’d kept myself in. Sure, it wasn’t the closet gay men normally stuck to since I didn’t make a secret about my sexuality to those I was closest to, but it was a hiding spot nonetheless.
“Easy, I’m not giving you an ultimatum.” He soothed me, running his fingers through my hair. Kissing me again. “I’ll wait as long as you need, I just wanted to make sure you know where my head’s at. I’m so close to falling in love with you it scares the hell out of me. What I feel for you…have felt for you for years…it’s so much more than I’ve felt about anyone before.”
It felt too soon to talk about loving one another, but only because saying the words made everything real. But there was no close for me when it came to loving him. I felt the same way and I’d spent most of the time I’d known Lincoln trying to tamp down those feelings.
My body came to life as I truly considered what he said rather than offer knee-jerk arguments. I wanted everything he promised. Lincoln was the man who made me truly happy. I wanted to give him the same in return.
There’d be time for more talk later. For now, I wanted to get our evening back on track. I crooked my leg around Lincoln’s, flipping him onto his back. As I straddled his legs, I leaned down, offering every promise with my body that I wasn’t yet willing or able to put into words.
It wound up being a long night, one I’d surely pay for the next morning, but every second was worth it.
13
Lincoln
It quickly becameapparent that Nixon and I didn’t do anything by halves. We easily fell into a routine where I’d wake up with him in the morning and make him breakfast while he showered and dressed for the day. While he was at the training facility, I settled into his office with my laptop, working with my agent to set up the next round of speaking engagements.
Now that I wasn’t sitting home alone trying to figure out where my life had gone wrong, I wasn’t as eager as I’d once been to travel the country. I felt anchored for the first time in years and I didn’t want to give that up.
My first trip back to Alabama coincided with another road game for the Breakers, so it wasn’t too painful for me to get in the backseat of a cab and pull away from the front of Nix’s condo. He’d follow shortly after, headed to meet the buses and hit the road.
By the time he got home Sunday night, I’d already be back. It would be the first time he’d come home to someone waiting for him and I hoped that would help tip the scales in my favor.
I sat in my usual seats in the parents’ section of the stadium, cheering for my son. He’d thawed slightly in the past few weeks, enough that I’d emailed him some exercises Nix suggested to help with the oblique strain I’d somehow not seen and Hunter hadn’t told me about. There’d been a moment of tension when I brought up the subject, but eventually, he broke down and admitted that yes, he’d been having some pain, but insisted it wasn’t anything to worry about.
The problem with having a former football player for a father was that he couldn’t bullshit me like that. I knew that the pains you ignored were the same ones that’d eventually turn into something that would have you riding the bench on Saturday afternoon. He looked good today, so much better than he had the first two weeks of the season.
I jumped out of my seat when Hunter made a beautiful reception, stretching as he leaped into the air, pulling the ball to his numbers and hitting the ground running. It wasn’t until I sat down that I noticed the other parents gaping at me. I shrugged, unapologetic for my renewed enthusiasm for the game.
Nixon had done that.
He may not realize it, but I was happier overall than I’d been in a long time, and that allowed me to enjoy everything more. On the next play, I screamed like a lunatic as my son ran the ball in for his first touchdown of the season. His teammates rushed to congratulate him and the fans went wild.
Eastern Georgia was a tough team to beat and a bitter rival. I knew from experience that getting on the scoreboard first would be a much-needed morale boost after the crushing loss they’d suffered the week before.
After the game, I waited with the rest of the parents outside the doors our sons would come out of once the coach dismissed them for the day. Spirits were high following their win.
Hunter and I had made plans to go out for dinner, and I selfishly hoped he wasn’t about to ditch me in favor of partying with his friends. If he did, I’d enjoy a quiet night at home and not let him see my disappointment. He deserved to cut loose.
The team began filing outside, each player seeking out his parents. It was a strange moment where men became boys again for a minute, desperately seeking the approval of their families. When Hunter stepped out, the crowd roared and his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He was a school hero, at least for the day.
By the time it was said and done, he’d helped put up twenty-one of the thirty-four points, and helped get the team in position for one of their field goals. My chest puffed with pride as he graciously accepted the accolades from everyone, his eyes seeking me out as he worked his way closer.
Before he could reach me, my phone rang. I couldn’t stop my smile at the picture on the display. “Hey stranger, miss me already?”
“Of course,” Nixon responded. “Congrats on that game today. Hunter looked great out there.”
“Yeah, he did.” I couldn’t put my finger on why, but it meant a great deal to me that Nixon had watched the game. It was like the different sides of my life were shifting closer together. I wished he’d been here with me, but that wouldn’t happen until the Breakers’ bye week. We’d already talked about flying to Louisiana for the game. If I’d have been standing, I’d have fallen over when Nixon suggested the weekend trip. “You should see him right now. He’s not comfortable with being the focus of everyone’s attention. Kind of like someone else I know.”
