So very wrong.
Entering through the player’s entrance, I strolled into the lobby toward the management suite. The walls were a Hall of Fame of sorts, with photos that dated back to 1995 when we were an expansion team in the league.
My personal favorites were photos of us on the raised platform accepting the Super Bowl trophy and Lennox’s MVP award. He’d kicked ass and took names last season, and we were going to repeat it if I had anything to do with it.
Along with the team’s on-field victories, pictures of all the charity events to benefit organizations around San Diego. The ultimate honor of the Governor’s Gala in May was the newest additions framed. There was speculation that Hudson Gatlin would run for President of the United States, and being celebrated by the future leader of the free world was a big deal.
The event had gone so well that after meeting the governor’s son, Jack, Evan invited them to come to San Diego for some time with the team. After a tour of the stadium, we’d run some drills with the kid to help him with tryouts for his high school. It brought back memories to see the kid all starry-eyed. But the real eye-opener was the relationship Evan and Hudson had formed.
According to Lennox, Ev had returned to Sacramento to spend the last few weeks of the offseason with them. Looking atthe photos of us with Governor Gatlin, it was easy to see the way they regarded one another. And now they were a couple.
That’s what I wanted.
Someone I couldn’t take my eyes off of.
Someone who excited me and made me feel alive.
Someone I could love and take care of.
Someone I could ultimately build a life with.
Everyone assumed Evan was the only bisexual person on our team, but that wasn’t true. Statistically speaking, four in every one hundred people identified that way. I simply preferred to think of myself as fluid.
But at twenty-eight, with no prospects in sight, I had to hope that when the time was right, I’d meet someone who made me want more out of life than my football career.
When I entered the coach’s suite, Miss Marilyn smiled up at me with her pleasant demeanor. Her sophistication and elegance reminded me of my mother.
“Hello, Carson. It’s nice to see you.”
“Thank you, ma’am. You’re looking lovely today, as usual.”
“You’re such a charmer,” she chuckled. “But I appreciate it. You can go on back. He’s waiting for you.”
With a single nod, I went down the hall to the second door on the right. Craig Henderson, our head coach, sat behind his desk, clicking away on his keyboard.
“Hey, Coach. How are you?”
He smiled when he looked over the rim of his reading glasses. Standing, he held out his hand to shake.
“Carson. Thanks for coming in. Have a seat.”
He pointed to one of the two leather chairs across from his desk.
“I’m sorry to interrupt what’s left of your off-season, but I wanted to talk to you about some changes regarding Training Camp. You weren’t in Colorado, were you?”
“No, sir. I went home earlier in the summer.”
“How long will your parents be here?”
“Until October. My mother will be filling in at the Embassy in London until Christmas.”
“I bet your father will be happy to go home.”
I smiled, thinking about my dad. “He is. My uncle has season tickets for Rugby Union.”
His smile brightened. “My younger brother coaches rugby in Italy. So I understand the fascination. Did your father play?”
I stifled a laugh, thinking about my father’s lack of athletic ability. He was more of an academic. “Only recreationally. And not well.”
