The Quarterback by Tal Bauer
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Red wineon an empty stomach on top of a days-long hangover had almost whited out Nick’s world. He wasn’t sure how long it took for the pounding to register through the haze that had settled over him. He breathed in. Closed his eyes. Waited for the knocking to go away.
It didn’t. It beat against Nick’s front door like his own personal migraine.
Two days ago, he’d worked up the courage to turn on the Texas game. He’d thought he could eviscerate himself by watching four quarters of Colton showing off why he was destined to play in the NFL. He’d expected to be watching perfect passes and then the camera’s gaze following Colton along the sidelines. He’d thought he could, maybe, glimpse Colton’s smile again.
He’d thought he’d see Colton playing.
He downed almost three bottles of wine as he watched the game, scouring every second in hopes the camera would linger on Colton. Why wasn’t he on the field? Why wasn’t he starting? Why wasn’t he leading the team?
Snippets of the announcers’ commentary sank into him in fractured pieces. Removed from the starting line. Not strong enough to lead the team.
Jesus, it was all his fault. He had been a distraction. Their dalliance had led Colton into ruin.
They were talking about Colton never starting a game again.
What had he done? Was it not enough that he’d lost both Colton and Justin? He had to rip his son’s heart out and shred his lover’s dreams, too?
He passed out after screaming into his pillow for hours, crying so much he thought he’d wept out the blood that pumped through his heart until there was nothing left.
Unfortunately, in the morning, he felt everything.
He’d stared at the unfinished third bottle for two days before he put his lips around the neck and chugged. Summer red tasted like Colton’s lips and regret, and he’d collapsed again with the pain.
The long days of silence and stillness and listening to his heart bleed until he fell into restless unconsciousness were catching up to him. He’d thought, at first, the ache consuming him like a virus would ease, but it hadn’t. It had metastasized, turning him over from the inside out until there wasn’t any corner left he could hide in.
The pain of losing Justin made him wrenchingly, violently sick, but the agony of losing Colton… There was an open wound in his chest, pulsing out waves of anguish and regret and shame. He felt like part of him was festering. Collapsing. Dying.
He dragged himself to the front door when the pounding wouldn’t stop.
Justin stood in the hallway, fist raised, ready to hammer away again. His eyes narrowed, and his gaze swept over Nick from head to toe. “Is that Colton’s T-shirt?”
Nick closed his eyes. Two weeks of silence, and those were Justin’s first words. Justin’s horror and rage that morning still haunted Nick, the same way the memory of Colton’s smile or the scent of his skin on the sheets were ghosts he shared the condo with.
“And is that his football you’re holding?”
It was. He wasn’t proud of himself, but he slept with the damn thing now, curled around it like it was a teddy bear. At first he hadn’t been able to touch the ball or even look at it, but as the days wore on and the weight of everything he’d lost hung in the silence, he’d grabbed on to anything he had left of Colton. There wasn’t much. Some dirty laundry in the bottom of his hamper. The pillow on Colton’s side of the bed. The football.
Justin shoved past him into the condo. His nose wrinkled, and he spun in a circle as he took in the fetid staleness. “I called your office. Lizbeth said you took vacation two weeks ago and no one has heard from you since. Have you left here at all, Dad?”
He shook his head.
“Jesus.” Justin picked his way through the empty wine bottles on the living room floor and pulled open the curtains over the balcony. Nick had shut them when the memories became too much. He couldn’t look at the patio couch without seeing Colton sitting there, waiting for Nick to join him. They used to make out while the sun set, his hands in Colton’s hair as the evening sky painted watercolors across the windows.
Without the sun and the moon, time had become a blur, a series of empty moments where everything hurt, all the time, and the only thing he felt was the sharp cut of failure.
Failure as a father. Again. Failure as a lover. Again.
Shame, too. He’d hurt the son he adored and lost the man he loved, and the common denominator in that equation was him. What was wrong with him?
Why had he done what he’d done? How had all his choices, the overlap of actions and consequences, built up to such a disaster? When was the moment when it had all gone wrong? When he kissed Colton back? Or when he decided to keep their relationship from Justin?
Would anything have changed how things had turned out? Or was he meant to be alone, a failed father and a failed lover, forever?
“Wes and I got engaged.” Justin stared out the windows into the trailing edge of the sunset. Persimmon and navy wrinkled the horizon. “That’s why we came home early. I wanted to tell you in person. I wanted us to celebrate together.”
“Congratulations.” He swallowed back a bitter wave of regret. “I’m sorry I ruined your plans.”
Justin sighed and shook his head. “Dad, we need to talk.”
He’d begged for this moment, had cried to his walls for Justin and Colton to come back. He didn’t want to push, so he’d let them take the lead, and after a silent week he got the message, loud and clear. Neither of them wanted him. He was in their past. The right thing to do would be to exit their lives gracefully. Make it easier on them by not being an albatross around their neck, a constant reminder of someone—something—horrible they wanted to forget. He’d set Colton free from the internship so Colton could leave fully, the way he’d left Nick’s home and tried to walk out of Nick’s heart.
Nick sank to the sofa, his body unwilling to hold him up anymore.
Memories hovered around him like a fog. Once, Colton had laid his head in Nick’s lap as he’d played Red Dead. They were sitting right there, Colton’s long legs stretched out and his ankles hanging over the end of the sofa. The game was fun, but what was better was watching the light in Colton’s eyes and the small, flickering smile that danced over his face. He could almost feel Colton’s hair sliding through his fingers.
Justin took his time perching on the couch. He waited, watching Nick with intense, flint-hard eyes. Nick couldn’t read his son, couldn’t tell what Justin was feeling. Was that distance, or dismissal? Was this goodbye?
“Dad, you said I’m your whole world. Is that true?”
Justin’s question hit him like a punch. He swallowed. Clutched Colton’s football in both hands. “Of course. You’re my son. I love you with everything I am, and I always will.”
“Does that mean you don’t have room to love anyone else, then?”
He blinked.
“Should I be your whole world?” Justin’s face twisted into a glare, and he ran one hand through his hair as he looked away. “You need something besides a son in your life, right? Don’t you want more than that?”
Nick’s jaw dropped.
“You weren’t happy with Mom, I know, especially at the end. Maybe I haven’t ever seen you really happy, not like you could be. Have you ever felt like I feel with Wes? Were you…” Justin’s chin wobbled, and the granite look he’d worn since he’d stormed in dropped away for one moment, revealing flashes of pain, confusion, regret. Then the wall was back, Justin’s eyes dark and cold as he pinned Nick with a glare. “Were you happy with Colton?”
“I…” A gouge opened deep in his chest, and he struggled to breathe. Justin’s gaze froze on him, tension building spiderwebs between them.
He’d been so Goddamn happy with Colton he needed to invent a new word for it. Happy wasn’t big enough. Being with Colton wasn’t just a moment of joy or a feeling of contentment. It was a white-hot, ignite-the-stars, watch-Colton-sleep-to-hold-on-to-every-moment feeling. Happiness, and so much more. The way Wes looked at Justin and Justin looked at Wes, and more.
Something, maybe the thing he’d been clinging to for two weeks, shattered inside him. He clenched his teeth and tried to breathe. Kept his eyes locked on his son. “It doesn’t matter how happy I was,” he forced out. “It couldn’t last. He’s going to the NFL—” He was, damn it, he was. Nick wanted to claw his heart out when he let himself consider that Colton’s football career might have been irreparably damaged because of their summer. Because of him. “I mean nothing compared to his future. Colton wants—”
“I don’t think you actually know what the fuck Colton wants.”
He felt his heart stop. Felt the last pump, the last squeeze, and then nothing.
“Colton cared about what you guys had a lot more than you said that morning.”
“That’s not true,” Nick whispered. “Colton left. He hasn’t texted. He hasn’t called. He left me, exactly like I knew he would.”
“Maybe you saying that what you guys had was just a summer fling had something to do with that.”
“How could we be anything else? His career. His dreams. His future. Those are what matter to him. He never made a secret of that. He was always talking about getting back out on the field.” He’d been with Colton at every doctor’s appointment, had listened as Colton said, over and over, that he was going to play again, lead the team again. And now… God, what had he done? Moaning, Nick buried his face in his hands. “I derailed his life. Do you think he’ll ever play again?”
Colton. Colton, my God, I’m so sorry. For everything. I shouldn’t have kissed you back, even though that moment has now tied with another as the best thing that ever happened to me.That kiss. The birth of his son. Two monumental, life-changing events.
“I don’t know,” Justin said carefully. “But when I saw him earlier he wasn’t crying because he was replaced on the team. You’re what he’s thinking about. Whatever you guys had, it meant something to him.” Justin hesitated. “Was he really just a fling, Dad?”
He dug his fingers into his closed eyes. Remembered parking by a lake. A Ferris wheel ride and a stuffed longhorn with a little red rose. Dusty oil fields and secretly held hands on helicopters and airplanes. Colton saying “I know you” and proving it, time and again. Wine tasting and a picture of the two of them, their smiles as huge as the Texas sunrise. A long drive on a ribbon of highway, the taste of Colton’s kiss on his lips.
Panic, both then and now. Soul-deep fear that he was fucking everything up. Desperate hope that he wasn’t.
“He was so much more,” he whispered. “At least to me. To me, he was… everything.”
Justin stayed quiet for a long, long time. Nick heard the ticking of his watch, left behind in his bedroom. The hum of cars crossing the streets below. “It hurt worse,” Justin said, “thinking you were with someone who didn’t matter that much to you. That you did all those things with Colton that you could have done with me, and he wasn’t even someone special—just a fling, you said. Like you didn’t want to go wine tasting or hang out with me, but you’d do it with your boy toy.”
“He wasn’t a boy toy. There are so many damn reasons why I shouldn’t, but, damn it, I fell for him. Justin—” Nick groaned. “What kind of a father am I, that I fell for your friend?”
“What kind of a son am I, that I’m gay?”
Nick reared back. “What the hell? What kind of question is that?”
“I can’t help who I am or who I fall in love with, Dad, and neither can you. The only thing we can do is fight it or accept it.”
“I don’t think that’s the same thing at all. I hurt you by what I did.”
“You hurt me by lying to me about it, and because of how I found out.” He gnawed on his lip. “Are you happy with Colton? Does being with him make you happy?”
He stared at Justin over the tips of his fingers. White-hot, ignite the stars, watch Colton sleep to hold on to every single moment. Dreams he wouldn’t let himself color in, as if refusing to imagine them would stop his heart from falling that much farther. “Happier than I’ve ever been. I didn’t know I could feel this way for anyone. Especially not a man.”
Justin tried to smile. It was weak, strained. “Maybe you’re gay on your son’s side.” The joke fell a little flat. “Maybe you’re bi. Or maybe you just found the right person for you. Maybe he’s the one.”
“He might be. I can’t imagine feeling like this for anyone else, ever. I thought your mom was my one, but this… it’s so much more.”
“Then go to him, Dad. Talk to him. You guys royally fucked things up, and now you’re both miserable. But you don’t have to be. I think you both want the same thing.”
Was it possible? He’d never dared imagine that Colton would want to stay with him the way Nick wanted him to. That he would want as long as Nick was daring to dream. There was too much stacked against them: Colton’s career, his position on the brink of superstardom. Nick’s age. Why would Colton want someone like Nick when he could have anyone he wanted?
Colton wasn’t the only man he had to consider, though. “What about you?”
“What about me?” Justin gave him another weak smile. “I went off on you, and him, and I said things that were unkind. I’m sorry, Dad.”
“You had every right to be angry.”
“Maybe in some ways, but not others. I wish you would have told me what was going on. I wish I hadn’t found out like I did. But when I think about having you tell me in a text message, or even in a phone call, that you and Colton got together, I don’t know if I would have been any less angry to learn about it that way.”
“I wasn’t going to tell you,” Nick admitted in a whisper. He forced out a breath as Justin’s glare hardened. “Since I was certain Colton and I were going to end when the school year started, I figured I’d stay his secret. I’d never tell anyone, and he wouldn’t have to stress about people knowing we’d been together. I wanted to protect his future.”
“As a gay man, I respect your discretion. As your son and Colton’s friend, I had a right to know. God, I was so pissed off at you I couldn’t even think. But nothing has added up about that morning. Not what you said about the two of you when you also did what you did with the candles and the wine.”
“I wanted that night to be special. The best night Colton ever had, so he’d remember me, hopefully, with a smile, one day.”
“Jesus, Dad…” Justin looked away. Sighed. “I know a little bit about you. Not as much as Colton knows, clearly. But I know enough to recognize that this—“ he waved his hand toward the wreckage of Nick’s condo “—isn’t because of a fling. That’s not how you feel.”
Nick hung his head. “I only wanted the best for him and for you.” He shuddered. “I tried to do the right thing for you both, and I ended up doing the absolute worst.”
“No, the worst thing you did was ignore how you felt. You put yourself last, and between you trying to be selfless and Colton not knowing how to handle what he was feeling, you both screwed everything up.”
Nick stared at the floor, silent for a long moment. “It’s like before, when I was trying to do the right thing between you and your mom, and that only made everything worse. It extended the tension and the heartbreak for years. Until I left her for you.”
“Dad, you left Mom for you. Not for me. I was here, and I could easily have never gone back to that woman or that house. You left her because you needed to.”
It was strange, talking about his divorce with his son. “I stayed too long. I made the wrong choice then. I did that again now, didn’t I? But I was too scared I’d lose you, and Colton would leave anyway, and I’d be alone. Look how well that turned out.”
“You should have talked to Colton. And you could have talked to me. But that’s the past. No more trying to put others first. Forget being scared about me. I’m here, asking you: what do you need now?”
The answers came like shooting stars. “You,” he whispered. “And him. I can’t choose, Justin. I can’t love one of you more than the other.”
“Why do you think you have to choose? Colton has a love with you that I won’t know, and the same goes for us. Loving him won’t take away from how you love me, right?”
“You thought it did. You thought I’d replaced you.” His stomach heaved. He clenched his jaw. Dug his fingernails into his palms. “Justin, God—”
“And you said I was wrong. I didn’t hear you that day. But… Dad, you do love me the way I always wanted—or maybe even more than I used to dream about. We’re not flying to New York for a weekend. We’re spending every day together. You’re here, with me. We didn’t go to a winery, but you come to my dance practice and watch me for hours. You love Wes like he’s your son. If Colton is the one for you, then… I’m okay with that. You and Colton together doesn’t hurt me anymore.” Justin held out his hand. “You love me unconditionally, and what I’m trying to say is, Dad, I love you unconditionally, too. I know I need to work on some things. Even if I act like I’m perfect, I know I’m not. But I want us to be okay. I want you in my life, Dad.”
A handclasp wasn’t going to cut it. Nick grabbed Justin and dragged him across the couch, pulling him into his arms as he buried his face in his son’s neck. His chest quaked as sobs tore out of him, and he buckled into Justin’s hold. “I love you so much, Justin. I was so scared I’d lost you, too.”
Justin pressed his face to Nick’s chest for a moment, fingers digging into Nick’s back. “You haven’t. And I don’t think you’ve lost Colton. Go to him. Talk to him.” He sniffed. “After a shower.”
