Page 80 of Provoking the Punter

Preston sat across the desk from him, settling in as if for the long haul. Having done this a time or two before, Chester knew it would be hard to get him to leave without leaving with him. “You’re usually the one with a worst-case scenario plan.”

“The worst-case is that it’s over, and I don’t have a plan for that.” He didn’t want to make a plan for that.

“Did he say that?”

“No, but I’m not ready to talk to him, either, because I’m still blaming him.”

“You know that’s not fair. You knew what he did, and that he wasn’t out before you started.”

“Could you not defend him right now? If he was out or if he wasn’t a player… if we’d been more careful…” The ifs were pointless roadblocks that were stopping him from moving past the frustration, but he wasn’t ready yet to let them go.

“And what? You’d have been seen out at some point, and people would have been speculating about that coach. It was always coming.”

“But we’d have been together for longer. Now he’s hurt because I’ve been ignoring him, and I’m annoyed at everyone.”

“You’re angry or afraid?”

“Both.” He fiddled with a pen before forcing himself to put it down. “What if we can’t take the pressure and it’s over?”

Preston leaned forward. “Oh my God, you really like him. You were not this worried when Michael was applying for out-of-state jobs.”

That was painfully true in hindsight.

“I do.” Garrett was a spark and a smile who made his heartbeat faster, who made him want to forget about work and have some fun. “But we haven’t even been dating for twenty-four hours.”

“It’s official now? That explains why you look like your dog just died. Come and have dinner.”

“I have to see him tomorrow and do media stuff, and I don’t want to be silently fuming.” He was past the point of saying the wrong thing. Garrett’s wounded text message had taken away some of the heat.

“Sitting here is not going to help.”

That was true. He didn’t want to go home yet because he’d see Garrett everywhere. He’d given him the grand tour, and they’d talked about how things might work. Garrett had written out his schedule—which was worse than his own—his own being self-inflicted because he hadn’t hired a manager.

It wasn’t about the money anymore; it was about control of his businesses.

Like he’d been keeping control of their relationship, including how much they saw each other because it was safe for him. If he kept people at a distance, then it didn’t hurt if it was over. But he was already hurting.

The media had stripped away his illusion of control.

Inside, he seethed. He was angry with himself for falling in love. He couldn’t pretend it was anything else. In the past, he’d thought he was in love, but he’d never been as open with them. Never trusted them the way he did Garrett, not even Michael. And that was Garrett’s fault for trusting him first, for being open about his fears and desires. For getting up every time life tackled him.

Why should this be any different?

Garrett worked until he got what he wanted. What if he no longer wanted him?

There were other men who’d kill to be in Garrett’s bed. Men who would rearrange their life for him. “What if he’s done with my bullshit?”

Preston leaned forward, placing his hands on Chester’s desk. “This is a wild idea, but have you considered telling him how you feel?”

He thought he had when he’d told him everything and agreed that they were dating. Had it not been clear? “What if he doesn’t feel the same?”

Preston rolled his eyes. “Are you looking for problems so you can end it?”

Another truth, one Chester didn’t want to face. “I don’t want it to be over.” He turned off his computer, admitting to himself that dinner with his friends was better than going home alone, even though it was prolonging the inevitable.

When things got difficult, no one ever chose him, and he had the stats to prove it. Why should this time be any different?

Chester stood and looked down at his friend. “You win. I’ll follow you home.”

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