“Cool.” That seemed to be enough explanation for deShawn. It hit me then that I was the one overthinking this. I’d gone from unwilling to even consider having an open relationship to pissed off that Linc was respecting my wishes. The balance lay somewhere in the middle and I needed to find it. Fast. “I’d better get back to the house. Some of the guys are coming over for dinner and my wife will be pissed if I’m not there to help her get ready. If you’re not busy, you’re more than welcome to stop by.”
“Thanks, but we’ve got reservations at Waverunner.” Linc did a double take, his mouth hanging open, his own reply to deShawn interrupted. Forgetting that we weren’t alone, I turned to Linc. “Sorry, it was going to be a surprise. Every time you’re up here, you’ve talked about wanting to try it, so I greased a few palms to make it happen.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” Linc replied quietly.
My heart beat faster, because yeah, I really did have to take this leap. The look on Linc’s face was worth it. I raised my hand to his face, stopping at the sound of deShawn clearing his throat. Shit. I’d been caught about a second and a half from kissing Linc right there on the beach for everyone to see.
“Uh, I’m gonna head out,” deShawn said, already turning away. He glanced back, throwing one final shot over his shoulder. “You two have a good time tonight. And don’t worry, I’m not the type to air out anyone’s laundry.”
My steps faltered more than once as Linc and I wandered back up the beach to my car. A dull throb grew at the base of my skull as I tried to mentally assess the damage that my lapse in judgment might’ve caused.
Sure, deShawn promised he wouldn’t say anything, but if he figured out what was going on, how long would it be before everyone knew? And now that I was faced with that reality, was I ready to admit I was in love with Lincoln, or was that all just bluster in my own head?
“You okay?” he asked, bumping his shoulder against mine. “It’s not the end of the world, you know. There are much worse things than people realizing that you’re not some heartless prick who thinks of nothing but his job.”
“I know that,” I responded curtly, still unable to look at Linc. He was much better than I was at this whole meeting in the middle thing, and I couldn’t help but continue to wonder when he’d get sick of waiting on my brain to catch up with my heart.
16
Lincoln
“So,what are you going to do?” Nixon asked during a lull in the conversation.
Waverunner was everything I’d hoped it’d be based on the reviews I’d heard about the newest steak and surf restaurant along the beach. It was refined without being pretentious. And I’d had plenty of time to take in the decor, since that was far safer than talking to Nixon about my outburst earlier.
Unfortunately, it seemed Nix was determined to get me to open up to him when all I wanted to do was keep burying my head in the sand. Okay, so that wasn’t true either; I wanted to find a way to help Patrick and force the league to take steps to make sure no one else wound up in his position, but I was clueless as to where to begin. Nixon, knowing me as well as he did, had somehow figured out why I was so upset.
“I don’t know,” I admitted to him. I sipped my wine, staring out at the surf rolling along the shore.
“And that’s why you’ve been so quiet lately,” Nixon added.
I was coming to realize it’d be impossible to hide anything from Nixon. As much as he liked to claim he wasn’t good at reading people, it was one of his greatest skills. He could sit back, assess the situation, and plan his attack before saying a single word.
“I know it’s eating you up, but you have to believe the league is trying to help guys like Patrick. So much has changed since you were playing.”
“It’s not enough,” I insisted.
The server brought our food to the table, setting a plate in front of each of us before asking if we needed anything else. Nixon gave her a curt shake of his head, eyes narrowed to let her know she was interrupting.
“I’ve looked into everything they’ve done so far, but beyond some policy changes and a fund to help pay for the cost of treatment, they’re not doing anything.”
“Not that they’ve shared with the public,” Nixon argued. He waved the steak knife in his hand as he continued, the slab of meat in front of him momentarily forgotten. “Did you know they’re working with a research team to find out exactly what’s going on with these guys? They’re bringing in players, running scans, and taking that information to the helmet manufacturers. Some of the guys on the field every Sunday have gotten in on it, too. They have special helmets that record data that is also sent in so maybe, someday, they’ll have even safer helmets. But none of that’s been made public, probably because people will still bitch that nothing’s being done.”
“Like I did,” I responded, my shoulders slumping forward because Nixon made a valid point. I’d used the information I could find online and formed an opinion of the league I had always known to do the right thing by its players. “But there has to be more. How do we get through to the current players that they have to watch how they tackle? A lot of these kids were still raised in a youth system that taught everyone to hit hard and fast, leading with their helmets. Now, that’s going to get them killed.”
“And that, my dear, is the million-dollar question.” Nix got quiet for a while and I could tell something was bothering him. “One of my biggest annoyances with this job is there’s no way to break their egos. Granted, there are times we need the guys to be cocky, but when it comes to safety, it’d be nice to find a way to remind them they aren’t invincible. Until that happens, we’re never going to get through to them.”
That was it. These guys didn’t realize the damage they were doing to their bodies because all they had were news reports about players who’d gone from strong, healthy athletes to invalids whose brains were rotting away. They needed to understand what was happening. They needed toseewhat life was like for men like Patrick.
Now, I just had to hope I could find a way to turn the thoughts flooding my brain into a cohesive plan and convince Patrick to go along with it. He was firmly convinced his life ended the day he was diagnosed, but there was still time for him to build a legacy that’d help future players avoid his fate.
We both tucked into our meals, sharing bites with one another like any couple might do. A few times, I opened my mouth to ask Nixon if he was okay being seen with me, but I stopped myself. He seemed relaxed, happy, and I wasn’t about to ruin the night by pointing out his insecurities. If we were turning some sort of page, I was going to roll with it.
The server stopped by toward the end of the meal, offering dessert. I was stuffed, but Nixon insisted we needed to try the cheesecake.
After dinner, Nixon led me away from the parking lot. “I thought we could walk around a little bit,” he told me. “It’s pretty sad that I’ve lived in Wilmington for years and haven’t ever tried to get out and really appreciate the beauty.”
I pressed the backs of my fingers to his forehead, checking for a fever. This new Nixon was a nice change from the closed-off version I was used to, but the shift in his personality seemed too drastic, too fast. He’d gone from insisting that we not be seen doing anything that could be perceived as us being a couple to spending the evening in as visible a way as possible. Nixon batted my hand away, rolling his eyes. “Hey, can’t blame me for trying to figure out what’s wrong with you.”
