Page 109 of The Play

Deacon couldn’t really believe Grant was suggesting it. But then, he supposed he could. They both had a lot to risk—Grant more than Deacon. There was a reason they’d stayed away from each other.

“You think the NFL’s gonna punish you somehow?” Deacon asked. His fingers tightened around Grant’s shoulders, digging into his skin. Don’t tell me I’m gonna lose this. I can’t lose this.

“No, no. I mean, I don’t know, not for sure, but they rarely hold owners accountable for their fuckups. I’ll probably be fine. I’m sure I’ll just be under the oversight of Cheryl the bitch for quite a bit longer. I can handle that. It’s annoying, but not the end of the world. I meant, you’re not going to get cold feet and freak out at all this attention?”

Deacon couldn’t believe it. But he could, all the same.

Of course it was a lot. Of course he didn’t enjoy turning on ESPN and seeing a whole panel of old guys speculating about his sex life. Of course he could leave the pushy, drunk people who hadn’t wanted to leave him alone with his teammates tonight. Of course he hated it when Grant got that worried crease between his dark brows, when his green eyes looked haunted and concerned. When he got hounded by the media. When people made nasty assumptions about him. That just because he liked cock meant he was somehow less of a man. Less of a genius.

That made Deacon want to fight the world.

But it didn’t make him want to leave Grant.

It made him want to take his hand and never let it go.

“No,” Deacon said. Because he could have said all that. But he didn’t know if it was too soon—or too much. There was a reason he didn’t do relationships. Everyone always thought he was tough all the way through.

Grant never had, though.

Maybe that was why Deacon had never forgotten him.

Not because his statistics tutor and hopeless college crush had become rich and powerful, but because Grant had always been special.

“No,” Deacon continued, haltingly. “No, not even close. I . . .yeah, it makes me angry and frustrated, sometimes. Mostly because of the shit people say that couldn’t be further from the truth. Judgments about you and me, and about you. I don’t give a shit what people think about me, but I do care about what they think and they fucking say about you. But none of that crap makes me want to leave you. I . . .” Deacon hesitated. “If you want me to leave, at any point in the future, you’re gonna have to say so. Because I won’t. I don’t ever want to.”

“Even if—”

“No,” Deacon said.

“Just no?” Grant turned in his arms and pinned him with a look.

“I love you,” Deacon said. Because surely that explained everything better than he could. Words, after all, had never been his strong suit.

Grant, who clearly between board meetings and inventing so many brilliant technologies he’d become a billionaire had found time to spend time in the gym, pressed Deacon’s body down with unexpected force and pushed himself up, on top of him, dropping his head down low.

“I love you, too,” he murmured, eyes intent on Deacon’s. “And I’m not going anywhere. And I sure as hell don’t want you going anywhere.”

“Good.” Deacon’s hands slid up Grant’s sides. Marveling in the way just touching him—Grant touching him in return—quieted everything inside.

Made him happy.

Happier than he could ever remember being.

No matter what, then, they were going to have each other. And each other’s backs.

Chapter 16

Deacon knew something had happened from the ripple of noise that went through the practice field.

He lifted his head up from where he and Nate were facing off against each other, working on the linebacker’s spin move.

“What is it?” Nate asked.

“I don’t know, but something,” Deacon said.

Practice didn’t start for another half an hour, but he’d agreed to help Nate, even texting Jem to send him some advice for the guy. Jem had done more than that. He’d watched film of Nate’s last few games and had sent extensive pointers, even going as far as to record a video—or have Murphy record a video—of him showing exactly how to do his famous spin move, broken down into a dozen slower parts.

Deacon knew it was exactly what he feared when Riley broke off from the main group gathered on the sideline and began to head towards him.

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