Page 92 of The Jock
Nick arched an eyebrow at him. “That’s not a comprehensive assessment of the situation.”
He had that caved-in feeling again, like his ribs were crunching around his heart. “He can’t afford to make the trip. And I am going to be okay. I don’t want to worry him.”
“Your dad is going to worry about you no matter what. That’s the job.” Nick sat on the end of Wes’s bed. “You are going to be okay. You’re right about that. But I think your dad will want to know what’s happened.”
He fiddled with the edge of the blanket. He cleared his throat. “I um. I wanted to tell you about me and Justin, Mr. Swanscott—”
“But I wanted to see your face when you saw who he was, Dad,” Justin said, interrupting. “Wes wanted you to know.”
“It’s all right.” He clasped Wes’s ankle through the bedclothes. “I understand. You boys had a lot going on this semester. You didn’t need the stress of meeting a parent on top of that.”
“I want you to know, Mr. Swanscott, that I love your son. I’m in love with him, and I’ll love him for the rest of my life. Hopefully he lets me love him for the rest of his life, too.”
Justin grinned. “That’s the plan.”
“Wes, I’ve watched you play football for three years. I thought you were pretty damn incredible before my son fell in love with you. Now Justin has told me stories about the two of you together, and if I thought you were a good guy before, that doesn’t compare at all to how I think of you now. You treat my son right. Hopefully he’s treating you right, too.” Nick winked. Wes chuckled, and Justin squawked. “I don’t think I could imagine a better man for my son than you.” He covered Wes’s hand in his own. “It pains me to say it, but even if you were an Aggie, I’d be proud to know you.”
High praise indeed. The Aggies were Texas’s most reviled rival. “I can count to ten, Mr. Swanscott. I promise, I’m not an Aggie.”
Justin’s dad laughed. “I hope you both are happy with each other for a long, long time.” Nick let go of Wes’s hand and smiled at them both. There was an echo, though, around him, something Wes caught hold of. It reminded him of his dad after his mom died, the way he’d bounced around in a life made for two, suddenly become one.
Later, after he’d lain back and closed his eyes, and he was hovering in the twilight of sleep, Justin’s fingers threading through his hair, he heard Nick ask if he could talk to Justin, alone.
* * *
Justin’s dadshut the hospital room door behind him and smiled at Justin. It was stilted, though. Pained. “Can I buy you a coffee?”
“Sure.” He followed his dad down to the cafeteria, then sat across the table from him and wrapped his hands around a mocha. This wasn’t what he’d expected their relationship to look like. If he’d had a pair of binoculars to peer into the future with when he was sixteen, he would have laughed and laughed and laughed.
But now that the future was here, and he and his dad were friendly—even friends—it was… nice. More than nice. It was great. Knowing his dad as an adult was so different from knowing him as a child. His dad was smart and funny and kind. He’d probably been that way Justin’s whole life, but Justin had been too wrapped up in himself to notice.
He was beyond thankful his dad had picked up the phone when he called. Beyond thankful his dad had gotten in his car and set a new land speed record coming down from Dallas. He’d dropped everything to come to a hospital in the middle of the night and hold Justin as he bawled.
His dad had taken Wes in immediately. And what he’d said to Wes—that whoever Justin loved, he loved, too? Justin had nearly started crying again.
He wanted to know what had happened when his dad disappeared and then showed back up with all of Wes’s teammates in tow. There was a story there. But for now, this was good. This was more than good.
His dad spread his hands on the laminate tabletop. His fingers were splayed, as if he could reach all four corners with just a little more effort. “Look, there’s no good way to say this, so I’m just going to come out with it. Justin, your mom and I are getting a divorce.”
Justin froze, his paper coffee cup jerking in his hands. “What?”
“I’m sorry to drop this on you now, with Wes in the hospital and finals coming up. It’s terrible timing, but there’s never good timing with something like this. I especially hate that it’s happened when you and Wes are starting your lives together. I want you guys to focus on how happy you both are. Keep that love alive, and you’ll be together forever.”
“What happened? I thought you guys were happy together. Over the summer, you both looked…”
His dad sighed. “Life happens. Sometimes you can love someone for years, and then something happens, and you realize you love someone else more.”
The coffee he’d swallowed soured. Had his dad met someone else? On a business trip, or in Dallas? He flicked the plastic lid of his coffee cup. Tried to push back the sudden anger.
“I thought we were happy over the summer, too. But…” His dad squeezed his eyes closed. “Justin, I don’t know how much of this you want to hear.”
“Tell me, Dad,” he snapped. “Just spit it out. Please.”
“It’s her church. I can’t put up with it anymore. At first, it was just a social group for her. She’d go out to lunches and to Bible studies. I never agreed with their teachings, but I thought she was just making friends. But…” He breathed in. Held it. “After you came back from Paris, and it was obvious you’d met someone you were over the moon for, she… I don’t know, she couldn’t handle that.” He sighed. “I loved seeing you happy. I loved seeing you in love. I wanted to know everything about what was going on with you. Cynthia… didn’t. And then, after—after you and Wes broke up, it was like she thought that confirmed all of her worst thoughts. That you could never be happy being who you are.” His face fell. He stared at the table.
“You were never really open around us before. You always kept that part of yourself closed off, and I’m not sure now if that’s because you knew, maybe subconsciously, how she’d react, or… I don’t know. I don’t know why you were distant when you were younger, or why you decided to be more open after you came back from Paris. I loved seeing you open up.”
He had no idea what to say. No idea what to think. He couldn’t even begin to form a thought.
