Page 153 of The Play

He didn’t know if next season, when he was scouting for Grant, he’d walk the sideline again. The ache of it might be a little too sharp to bear.

“Nope,” Jem said. “But we’ll be up in Grant’s suite, rooting for y’all.”

“Grant, huh?” Deacon teased.

Jem just shrugged. “He’s your boyfriend now, not the owner of my team any longer. Should get used to it. Thinking of him as a man, not just my super rich untouchable boss.”

“I never thought of him that way,” Deacon said.

“And that, Deac, has always been your problem.” Jem grinned.

“Maybe his solution too,” Murphy added quietly.

All it would ever have taken for Deacon to like Jem’s boyfriend was that his best friend was happy. His standards were fairly easy that way. But now he liked Murphy even more than that, because just from hearing about his relationship with Grant secondhand, he’d come to the right conclusion.

“Yeah, I think so, too,” Deacon said, nodding.

“We’ll let you get your pre-game routine in,” Jem said. “I just wanted to come down. Say hi. Introduce you to Murphy.”

“I’m sure Carter’s putting together some kind of party when we get back to Charleston. You two should come back. Stay for that.”

“Win or lose?” Murphy asked, eyebrows shooting up.

“Yeah,” Deacon said firmly. “Win or lose.”

“Then we should,” Murphy said. “This is still your team, Jem. Still your brothers.”

And Deacon knew then that Murphy was the absolute right guy for Jem.

No question about it.

Jem seemed to know it too, but he wasn’t surprised by it, either. He’d already known it, apparently. “Yep,” he agreed, smiling.

After Jem and Murphy left to find their suite, Deacon had twenty minutes of quiet, just him and the turf. Slowly the other players began to trickle onto the field for warmups.

Deacon could see the Piranhas on the other side of the field. Could see Sebastian Howard and Wade Lewis laughing together. Paxton Kelly warming up along with his quarterbacks coach and boyfriend, Davis Abernathy.

Davis, whom Deacon had missed when he’d been replaced at the Condors and had turned up as a coach for the Piranhas instead. Deacon had fought so hard against that particular injustice, but in the end, it hadn’t made any difference. They’d still treated Davis like shit and brought in Tom Taylor, that human garbage can, to replace him, anyway.

Scott Callaway, the defensive coordinator for the Piranhas, was on the sideline, shading his eyes as he took in the Condors side of the field. Asa Dawson, his husband and the head coach for the Piranhas, was nowhere to be seen.

From everything they’d heard, the Piranhas would be playing most of their starters, hoping to lock up the number one seed in the AFC. The Condors, on the other hand, needed this win to secure their own playoff spot.

It would’ve been easier, Deacon knew, if the Piranhas had been secure in their own playoff berth and not trying for a better seed, and they’d sat half the starters.

But they hadn’t.

Deacon decided he was glad about that.

If they won this game, it would be because they fought hard and came out on top.

“How’re you doing?” Beck asked as he approached, Micah trailing a dozen feet back.

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” Deacon rolled into another stretch.

Beck gave him a knowing look. “You know why.”

“Yeah, ’cause this could be my last game. I know. I get it.”

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