He certainly didn’t belong in a high school gym, but what was he going to do about it? Turn Trevorandhis mom down? When they were looking at him with the same hopeful expression in their eyes?
“Sure, yeah, that sounds great,” Lane said, attempting to dredge up an enthusiasm it was difficult to really feel.
“Awesome,” Trevor said, beaming, like this was the greatest thing he’d ever promised. “Can’t wait to introduce you to everyone. Well, the new guys anyway. Sure you know a lot of the team, still. We all just . . . your freshman season, tearing it up like that? It was so fucking cool.”
“Mom said you guys watched the games every week.” She and Tom had come out for two games, too, but Lane wasn’t disappointed—had been relieved, actually—that Trevor had stayed at home, since he was playing in games of his own.
“We wouldn’t have missed them,” Trevor said.
There was that note of hero worship in his voice again, and if Lane could actually look at him, he was sure he’d see it in Trevor’s eyes, too. It fed the best and worst parts of him. Thepart that wondered, deep down, if Tom had been wrong about his son after all, when he’d called him an ally, and that hoped the next time he looked over at Trevor, he’d see something more than just that general brotherly affection.
Brotherly affection that Lane had certainly never did anything to earn. That he didn’t even feel himself.
“Great,” Lane said flatly.
Delia came over with a pan full of eggs and started dividing them between their two plates. “Toast’ll be up in a minute. You know, Lane watchedyourgames too, Trev.”
Lane choked on his first bite.
“What,really? God, that’s so freaking cool.” Trevor’s smile could have lit a small city block. Lane looked away. “I didn’t realize.”
She had sent the links to the YouTube streams. Lane had tried to resist their siren call. He’d not needed any more reasons to think about Trevor, not when he was trying so hard tonotthink about him. But he hadn’t been able to resist, and of course, he’d accidentally mentioned something in one of them on a phone call with his mom two months into the season, giving away once and for all that she wasn’t sending him those links in vain.
“I gotta have something to teach you in the offseason,” Lane said, eggs tasting like ash in his mouth.
If he was one of his friends, he’d tell them they were being overdramaticandan asshole, and hewas, but somehow even the painfully hard truth didn’t change anything about how he felt.
He could think it sucked, and yetstillfeel the same way.
“I’m sure you’ve got so much, dude,” Trevor said eagerly. “I can’t wait.”
He was like a golden retriever puppy. Adorable and impatient to jump all over the furniture.
Except Trevor wasn’t into the furniture, he was inadvertently traipsing all over Lane’s good intentions. The promises he’d made to himself when he’d realized that his living situation this summer had fallen through and he had no choice but to come home and spend the two months living in the bedroom next to Trevor’s.
“That’s so thoughtful of you, Lane,” Delia said, her smile warm as she came up with the toast, and after setting it on his plate, tucked him against her, arm around his head as she pulled him in.
For a second, Lane closed his eyes and nothing had changed. She felt the same, smelled the same. Whichever kitchen she cooked in, she was still his mom. He still loved her.
Then Trevor spoke up, “He’s just like that,” and the dream punctured.
Lane’s eyes opened. “Eat up,” he barked. “We got work to do.”
“Ah, don’t work him too hard,” his mom said, chuckling under her breath. “But who am I kidding? You’re going to do it to each other.”
“Probably,” Lane admitted. At least if he was exhausted, maybe he wouldn’t lie awake like he had the last two nights and try to picture what every single noise from Trevor’s room meant.
“Well, don’t kill each other, okay?” Delia shot him a smile, clearly delighted they were going to go work out together. She probably thought they were going to be friends. That these two months would mean they’d get close and be like real brothers.
He’d always hated disappointing her, but it was inevitable that he would in this, and that fucking sucked.
“Sure,” Trevor said easily, grinning back at her. “Like I could evendothat to this big guy.” He tapped Lane on the bicep, an easy friendly touch.
It wasn’t Trevor’s fault that even the barest graze of skin on skin made something in the base of his stomach heat and then curdle.
He forced out a smile. “You could try.”
Trevor laughed, like pure sunshine in a bottle. “I sure will, buddy.”
