Every day I told myself that was the day I was going to tell West we couldn’t talk anymore, but I never did. Sometimes I decided that instead of telling him, I just wouldn’t message first, and I’d ignore him when he did, but I didn’t do that either.
I’d had to make up some ridiculous story for Mom, Elias, and Darren about where I’d been during my bye week. Mom asked if I’d met a woman, and I didn’t discourage that line of thinking, even though it made me feel like the biggest piece of shit on the planet. I’d told her it wasn’t a big deal and let it go at that. Technically, the no-big-deal part wasn’t a lie. What West and I were doing…or had done, wasn’t serious. And yet…sometimes when I thought back on it, when we talked or he made me laugh at night when I was in bed, thinking about my days at his house, I acknowledged that was a lie, at least on my part. It was a huge deal. The biggest. Outside of football and how much I loved my family, what I’d shared with West was the most real thing in my life. And then I tucked that truth away with so many other parts of myself.
We had only been texting or sharing short phone calls since I got back to Georgia. I wasn’t sure if I could handle video chatting. Seeing him was a different story, and I knew I needed to tell him there was no reason to keep talking, that it would be too hard to just be friends with him.
We had a home game on Thanksgiving, which we won. Mom and Elias were there and had watched from the family box, and I knew they would wait for me until I was done with the interviews after the game.
Darren and I left the locker room together and found them chatting with Mia, all three wearing their security passes.
Fuck. I knew this wouldn’t be good. “Hey, Mama.” I kissed her cheek. “Hey, Buttface,” I teased my brother.
“Sometimes it’s hard to believe you’re older than I am,” he replied.
“Anson Hawkins, do I get a hello or what?” Mia asked with sass in her voice. Darren pretended to vomit. “I don’t understand why you’re friends with him,” she told me as she stepped closer, and I gave her a hug. Mia was great. As close as I was to Darren, I considered her a good friend as well.
“Eh, sometimes I wonder myself.”
“Because I’m awesome,” Darren replied. “Hey, El. Hey, Ms. Hawkins.” Mom gave Darren a hug. Given how much my mom loved Darren, it was easy to think I’d been friends with him my whole life rather than just since I’d started in the NFL.
“How are you feeling?” Mom asked. “You took a nasty hit in the second.”
I waved her off. It had been a bad hit, but I was fine—sore and bruised, but that was how it was supposed to be. “I’m fine, Ma. I’m used to it by now.”
“Well, I’m not. No matter how many times I see it, I wanna go down there and tell them to leave my boy alone.” Everyone laughed, including me, and then Mom turned toward Mia and Darren. “Did the two of you already have Thanksgiving dinner?”
“We ate with our family yesterday,” Darren said.
“We’re having a meal at the house tomorrow. You’re both welcome to come. Elias is bringing his new girlfriend. She’s lovely. Hopefully we’ll learn more about the mystery woman Anson was with last week, and he’ll start bringing someone around too. I told him she has to have my stamp of approval. Too many people out there just want to take advantage of someone famous.”
Fuck, fuckity fuck fuck. “I told you, Ma, it’s not a big deal. We’re not serious,” I said just as Mia asked, “You met someone?” and Darren said, “Well, this is new. You didn’t tell me you were with someone last week.”
My head nearly exploded, the three of them all in my business, prying into my life. When my gaze snagged on Elias, he frowned. I looked away. I knew that stare. He was worried. He could tell something was up. “It’s nothing. We’re just friends.”
“You two boys have been single too long.” Mom pointed back and forth between me and Darren.
“Hey, how’d I get caught up in this?” There was another round of laughter, but I didn’t join in.
“Tell me you’ll come,” Mom said to them. She loved having a full house. She used to tell us how she and Dad wanted to have more kids, and she’d taken Mia and Darren on as her own.
“I can always eat,” Darren replied.
“Yeah, we’d love to. Thank you, Ms. Hawkins,” Mia added. We chatted a while longer before everyone went their own way.
It wasn’t until I was back home by myself that I checked my phone. I knew that unless West was in session or taking care of other constituent work where he couldn’t pick up his cell, there would be a message from him.
Stalker: I want to kill the motherfucker who just tackled you.
Stalker: What the fuck??? He has it out for you!
Stalker: How are you not dead?
Stalker: Damn! That block was badass.
Stalker: Fuck yeah! That’s my boy! Touchdown, baby!
His boy. Shivers skated down my spine, warmth following in their wake. I sure as shit wasn’t supposed to like being called his boy. I was a man.
Stalker: Good game. :) That’s what fuckface gets for hitting you so hard.
I laughed. God, West was great. I couldn’t talk to him or see a message from him and stay in a bad mood. Each word I read released some of the tension inside me.
I grabbed some water from the fridge, went to my bedroom, and did something really fucking stupid, something I wasn’t supposed to be doing.
At. All.
I video called him.
“This is a surprise,” he said. His hair was a mess, his eyes a little puffy.
“You’re not home?”
“No, I’m in LA. I had some business down here to deal with.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, it’s fine. Just a day where no matter how hard I tried, everything went wrong. I just… Fuck, it’s so hard to want to help people and then to always feel like my hands are tied. Schools are struggling, parents are struggling, too many people on the streets go without medical care or are unable to get help for mental illness. It’s a lot sometimes.” He rubbed a hand over his face and yawned. “I’m sorry. I’m sure you didn’t call to talk about this. You were fucking hot out there. Why didn’t you bring your football gear when you came here?”
I rolled my eyes. “Next time.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I realized what I’d said. “I didn’t mean that. There won’t be a next time. That wasn’t the agreement, and we both know that—”
“There could be,” West interrupted. “There are many things I still want to do to you. It’s just sex, Bashful. No one would know.”
But it wasn’t just sex. I cared about him, and I couldn’t come out. Being with him would make me want more, and there was too much at risk. “You know I can’t.”
“You actually could if you wanted.” There was a sharp edge of bitterness to his voice. “Shit. I don’t know why I said that. Maybe we’re both a little off our game tonight. The us game, not the football one, because you fucking killed that. Let’s start over.”
“Yeah, okay.” I didn’t want to contemplate what any of my feelings meant, so starting over sounded like a good fucking plan to me. “You aren’t having Thanksgiving?”
He shrugged. “Nah, I ordered some food. My mom called. She got off the phone in less than five minutes. My dad wouldn’t talk to me. Just another day in our dysfunctional family.”
I thought about my family, about our meal the next day and having Darren and Mia over to join us. Regret blanketed me, weighed me down. Made me want things I couldn’t want—inviting him home with me, sharing a holiday with him. “What about Jeremy?”
“He’s busy with his husband. It’s fine, Bashful. It’s not a big deal. This holiday isn’t really important to me anyway.” But it was. It was a big deal to me. “You guys are having dinner tomorrow, right?”
“Yeah, Mom invited Darren and Mia.”
“That’s his sister?”
“Yeah.”
“The one who wants you? Not that I blame her. Doesn’t your mom have the two of you basically married off already?” There was something stiff in his voice, something unlike West.
“I wish I could be with you,” I admitted.
“You’re getting us back on track for a conversation you don’t want to have.”
“And you do?”
“Yes and no. I want you. I’m not asking you to marry me, to get down on one knee for me after you come out. I just… I want you. There’s no other way to say it. And I’m being strangely emotional right now. I blame my cock. It misses your mouth.”
I knew what he was doing—trying to lighten the mood. So I chuckled.
We talked a while longer before West said, “I should go. I still have work to do.”
“Okay.”
“See you later, Bashful.”
He moved to hang up when I called out, “West?”
“Yeah?”
“I want you too.” I hung up before he could respond.
* * *
Our family Thanksgiving was exactly what I expected it to be. Carly was great. She was sweet and beautiful and completely crazy about my brother. It was clear in the way she looked at him. Mom was enamored with her. She loved having another woman around, doting on her and telling her stories about Elias and me when we were young.
Would she do that if I’d brought West home? Tell him how I went through a phase where I’d rip off my diaper and run around the house naked, or how I used to stockpile cookies in my bedroom? Would she invite him to have lunch with her sometime and make plans to get to know each other? Would she tell him how good a couple we made? If we were really a couple…
They asked about my “mystery girl,” and I tried to change the subject. Mom nudged me toward Mia more than once, the two of them getting along just as well as she and Carly did.
I talked football with Elias, Darren, and Mia, and thought about how much easier my life would be if I could love Mia, if I could want her the way I wanted West.
But I couldn’t. I didn’t.
Instead, I spent the whole time wishing West was there.