Cooper was old enough, and wise enough, to knowwhere this was heading. Not wanting to talk about it now would turn into not talking about it ever. It’s the kind of thing someone said when they’d already made up their mind about something. And maybe he was going fucking crazy, but he swore he could hear the first crack.
And then another.
The glass was breaking.
And his heart raced. Ached.
His throat dried, and he jumped to his feet. He grabbed the unopened water bottle off the bar, twisted the cap off, and took a long gulp.
He watched as Nico stood up from the couch, hand fumbling over his belt buckle.
“Just fuck me, please,” Nico begged, closing the distance between them as he tore his belt through the loops of his trousers. The leather belt landed with a clank against the floor. “I don’t want to fight on a night like this.”
“I’m not really in the mood to fuck right now.”
Nico pouted, knowing he would get his way. “Twelve minutes are going to go fast.”
But it wasn’t going to work. Not when Cooper’s head was spinning. “Stop acting like a fucking brat and talk to me.”
Was it a demand? A request? The fuck if even Cooper knew.
“You told me, remember?” Nico let out a flustered sigh and shook his head violently. “The fans would grab their pitchforks and turn into a mob if they ever found out I was gay. If they ever found out I liked sucking dick and absolutely fucking loved taking dick.” He pointed squarely atCooper with both a finger and his eyes. “Those were your words and as much as I’ve tried to forget them, they are seared into my mind.”
“Don’t put that on me,” Cooper said quietly.
But Nico was right.
“Where else should I put it?” Nico threw his arms to the side. “Because I don’t know if you know this, but your little speech that night is the primary reason I decided to hide who I am.”
Cooper finally understood, but he was too afraid to admit he knew. He needed to hear Nico say he was reneging on the deal. “What are you doing right now?”
“Look, I’m not saying anything you don’t already know, but you’re older than me. You’ve been doing this for years.” Nico bowed his head, defeated. “What you’re asking me to do isn’t fair to me.”
“We had a deal,” Cooper scowled. “And besides, you won a Super Bowl! It’s not like they’re going to replace you with some rookie or god-forbid second-stringer. You’re the best fucking quarterback in the league. I think you’ve earned the right to be open about who you are.”
Nico huffed. “Then why didn’t you come out after you won yours?”
“Because I was waiting for you.”
Nico said nothing. Stood there like a man who wasn’t breaking another man’s heart. Maybe he didn’t know what to say. Maybe he knew whatever he said would only make things worse. But Cooper needed his baby boy to say something. Anything. Whisper it. Shout it. Scream it.
Just fucking say something.
Cooper’s hand rolled into a fist, tight enough he could feel his trimmed fingernails scraping against skin.
And then finally, he lied through his teeth. “I let you win in the playoffs. Threw an interception in that final drive so you’d get the ball back.”
“Don’t,” Nico seethed. “Don’t do that. Don’t try and make me believe you gave me what I won.”
Cooper nodded. He recognized it wasn’t the mature thing to do but when he was this irritated, he had a tendency to provoke. “Two interceptions all year, and one was conveniently thrown just in time for you to score. You’re welcome, by the way.”
“Fuck off.” Nico turned and grabbed his shirt. He pulled it over his shoulders and buttoned it in a hurry. “I’m out of here.”
The sound of the breaking glass echoed in Cooper’s mind. A small splinter in the cage, growing like a cobweb. He unclenched his fist. “Nico, don’t leave.”
“Give me one reason to stay,” Nico said, pulling his belt back through the loops of his trousers.
“Please…”
