*
“Mmm, I likedays off after a week off,” Lucas says as I lifthim up and set him on my kitchen counter. His arms and legs immediately wrap around me, and when I lower my hand, I feel the bulge growing beneath his LA Pulse shorts.
“Me too.” I kiss down his throat, wishing he wasn’t leaving for work, or hell, wishing I could go with him. I’d love to see Lucas in his element. He’s seen me in mine, and though he hasn’t been to a game since we got together, he watches them all.
“I don’t want to go,” he says. “Maybe I can fake sick and spend the day inside you instead.”
I chuckle. “As good as that sounds, you have a job to do. I don’t want to interfere with that.”
“Come with me.” Lucas kisses my jawbone. “You can be there as a friend, and no one would say anything anyway. I’ve shot with these people a hundred times.”
Part of me wants to say yes so badly. Hell, just yesterday I was wondering what it would be like to spend time with Lucas and Oakley together. But all I can think about is what Coach said to me. Yeah, he talked about being happy, but also about how proud of me he is, how people are counting on me. Things are going so well right now, I’m afraid of doing anything to fuck it up. I feel like myself on the field, maybe more than I ever have. If shit goes wrong, if things get out about Lucas and me, we’ll put the carefully constructed world we’ve built together at risk.
Lucas doesn’t wait for me to answer, sliding off the counter. “It’s okay.”
“I’m sorry. Maybe we could… Oak…we can trust him…” But still, as much as I want that, I don’t know if I’m ready for it.
“It’s cool, Hunt. I’m good. It was just a dumb idea. Come shower with me.”
I do as he says, selfishly thankful he’s letting it go. I blowhim in the shower, hoping that dulls the sting of my earlier rejection.
“I’ll make dinner tonight,” I say, as if that changes anything.
“Okay.”
Lucas gets dressed in a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt, before putting on his jewelry. I tug on underwear and a pair of joggers, and once his filming equipment is all packed, I help him carry it downstairs.
He opens the door as I hand him the rest of his things, and I hold on to his shirt so he can’t walk away. “It’s not you, Lucas. It’s just that things are going so fucking well right now. I’m not ready for it to blow up in our faces.” Because it will. It’ll be the last straw between Lucas and his father. It’ll be a media circus for me, and also, as much as I hate to admit it, I’m still conflicted about losing what I had with Coach Blake.
“I know. And I’ll always want you, Hunt, but I can’t stay a secret forever. I’m not saying it has to be right now, but I didn’t fight my whole life to stay true to who I am to go back on that now.”
My chest tightens at his words, but at the same time, I’m so fucking proud of him. The truth is, I used to be the same. It’s why I never wanted to hide my bisexuality, why I wanted to make it as an out bi man. I’m not sure when I lost that. When Ellis died? While I kept making every sacrifice Coach Blake said I should?
“That’s always been my favorite thing about you.” I step closer, hold his face in my hands, and press my lips to his. Lucas opens for me, parting his lips so my tongue can slip inside. He tastes so familiar now, like my body knows everything about his, like it was always meant to, and we’re both just now getting to where we always belonged.
I hear the sound before I see anything, hear the deepclearing of a throat, one I’ve heard countless times. The timbre of a man who’s told me he’s proud of me so many times, a man I’ve tried not to disappoint since the day I met him, a man who’s been a father figure to me after losing my own.
I jerk away from Lucas. He closes his eyes in defeat as I whip my head around and see Coach Blake standing there. Confusion sweeps me up, tosses me around, but then I remember it’s their bye week, the week after ours this year.
“You’ve been ignoring me, and now I see why.” Disdain drips from every syllable.
“I’m not… I haven’t…” I trail off. Because I am, and I have.
“Dad…” Lucas starts, but Coach Blake cuts him off.
“Don’t talk to me. How dare you betray your brother’s memory this way? Or has this always been going on? How long have you let your brother’s boyfriend fuck you? The whole time? Was it a game for you?” He turns on me. “Jesus, Hunter. How can you let him take advantage of you this way? He wants you because you’re Ellis’s and because he’s bound and determined to spend his life showing me how much he hates me.”
My hands fist, my breathing heavy. Every concern I had about my relationship with Coach Blake has been eviscerated by what he said, by how he’s treating Lucas. “Don’t fucking do that. Don’t talk about him that way. You have no right, and you’re wrong about him. He’s a better man than you’ve ever given him credit for, and I won’t stand here and allow you to put him down.”
“It’s fine, Hunt. I am who I am, right?” There’s not a drop of emotion in Lucas’s voice.
“Don’t do that. Don’t let him get into your head. He doesn’t know you.”
“But he’s right, isn’t he? I’ve always wanted you, even though you were never meant to be mine. And if you had wanted me back then, I would have been with you then too.”
He wouldn’t have. I know him better than that. Lucas would have never hurt Ellis. He would have turned me down, would have been a good brother, but he doesn’t believe that about himself. Either that, or a part of him wants to prove his father right about him, wants to be all the things his father thinks he is, because then it’s easier for him to understand why his father chose football over a good relationship with his son.
Jesus, that’s what it is, isn’t it? If he’s all the things his father says about him, then his dad is right not to have a relationship with him, and it’s not just that he cares about the game more than he cares about Lucas.
