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The question throws me off guard and I blush for a second. Come out? No, I’m not coming out. No one needs to know who I’m having sex with. Why would he ask that?

“What?” I don’t turn toward him, just stay frozen facing my bag.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come get food and a beer?” he says again, enunciating every word.

I want to sigh in relief but I don’t.

“Uh, no, I’ll order something here and crash.” I sit on the bed again and grab the remote. “Don’t stay out late or tomorrow will suck.”

He pats me on the shoulder on his way out the door, double-checks that he has his room key, then leaves.

I flop back on the bed and stare at the ceiling.

I’m a fucking mess.

23

Nick

Iwant to call him. The game ended over an hour ago, so he should be at the hotel by now. But he hasn’t opened my messages yet.

Did something happen with his family that he’s trying to deal with? Did he crash as soon as he got back and is asleep? Did he finally put his phone on silent or turn it off so he can get some peace?

Do I have the right to demand he talk to me? Of course not, but I fucking want to.

I sigh and toss my phone onto my bed. This is what he was talking about when he said he didn’t have time for a relationship. Does he realize that by leaning on me, making me a priority, he wouldn’t be dealing with everything else alone? I can carry some of the burden so it’s not so damn heavy for him. He has zero boundaries with anyone and I can help him with that too.

Fuck it.

Picking up my phone, I find his contact and push call. It rings a few times before a rough voice says, “Hello?”

“Hey, baby, you okay?”

I can hear him sniffling and what sounds like him wiping his face.

“Yeah, I’m fine. What’s up?”

What’s up? Is he serious?

“Are you at the hotel?” Is he around someone he can’t be candid with? Maybe? Hopefully?

“Yeah.” He sniffles again.

“What’s wrong?” I lean against my dresser and wait. Having someone care about him is so foreign to him that he doesn’t know how to handle it when it’s presented to him. Fuck, I wish I were there with him right now. “You sound upset.”

He clears his throat before he answers. “Nothing, just a long weekend. You know how it is after a game and the adrenaline crash.”

I do, but this isn’t that.

“Joey.” There’s no anger or frustration in my tone, even though I am frustrated.

“What do you want me to say?” I hate hearing him sound so small, so broken.

“The truth, sweet boy.” I close my eyes and try to picture him alone in his hotel room, upset and needing comfort. This is all I can do for him right now and it’s killing me. “Talk to me.”

A little sob escapes him and it breaks my damn heart. "There’s voicemails and messages on my phone from my family and I don’t want to open them.” His voice cracks and he lets out another sob that I feel in my chest. “But I feel like a shitty person for thinking it. They need help and I should want to help them. They’re my family, my responsibility, and I’m failing them.”

He’s sobbing now, no longer able to speak through it. I hate that I can’t help him, can’t hug him in this moment. He can’t see how strong he’s been for so long and I don’t know how to show it to him.

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