Page 103 of The Quarterback
He spun Nick and then was spun in turn, and they came together as the song rose to the end, the singer holding on to the last note as the drummer went to town on the cymbals and bass drum. Everyone cheered as Nick’s arm wound around his waist.
“Nick!”
They turned together and saw Kimbrough guiding a statuesque woman in a silver gown across the dance floor toward them. Kimbrough was in a navy suit and had put on his best fog-gray Stetson, to match his bride, he’d said. His wife was classic Texas, demure and commanding in equal measures, and she had Kimbrough wrapped around her diamond-studded fingers. She smiled at both Nick and Colton as she and Kimbrough approached.
“Hell of a party, Nick.” Kimbrough pumped Nick’s hand. “Gorgeous wedding. Marrying your son off is always a great day.” He winked at his wife. “Your daughter’s wedding day, on the other hand…”
“Hush.” His wife swatted his arm. She grinned, though, at some memory from the decades of life they’d shared.
I can’t wait to have those kinds of memories with Nick.
“So, you two gonna have a child of your own?” Kimbrough smiled. “You gonna saddle up and start a family together?”
Colton’s jaw dropped. Nick’s eyes bulged. “Uh…” Nick sounded like he’d been hit in the stomach.
“You’re young, Nick!” Kimbrough slapped Nick on the shoulder. “You’ve got plenty of time to have a kid or two with Colton.”
“Or two!”
“I’m sure Justin would love siblings.” Kimbrough winked. “Colton, you ready to come work for me?”
He’d kept in close touch with Kimbrough over the past eight months, since they’d met in Waco. Kimbrough had reached out first, asking how he was holding up and congratulating him on Texas’s win that week. He’d talked about how much stronger Clarence Hobbs looked, saying that he could see Colton’s influence at work already.
Colton told him Clarence had turned a corner and was eager to learn everything he could, as if he was a sponge that could soak up Colton’s years of experience. He showed up early to practice, even before Colton, and spent hours perfecting his form. His five-step, his seven-step. His timing. His release. His accuracy, too, until he could laser a ball from one end of the field to the other and hit the bull’s-eye of a target. And after their next win, he’d marched out onto the field and had nothing but praise to heap on his teammates, singling out members of the offense and defense for their exceptional plays.
Nothing happened overnight, and Clarence didn’t magically become Colton by week three. He still wobbled in games and still needed more time reacting to defensive setups so he wouldn’t succumb to panic when the game became a struggle. But Texas won most of their games, and though they didn’t defend the national title, they won their bowl game and were ranked in the top five in the league. Each of the seniors who wanted to have standout seasons before the NFL draft did.
Colton played his last game the final week of the season. He’d finally recuperated, through the combination of a slow and steady physical therapy regimen and his daily coaching of Clarence, to the point where both he and Coach felt he could hold his own for a whole game. When he was announced as the starter, the whole team cheered, whooping and hollering and shouting in the team meeting room for a solid five minutes, until Coach told them to shut up or they were all running ten miles. Even Clarence was happy for him. He’d thrown his arm around Colton’s neck and gave him a messy kiss on the cheek. “You deserve this. You deserve a hell of a lot more, too, but you especially deserve this.”
He’d led his team onto Texas’s field in front of a hundred thousand fans screaming his name. He and Wes stopped on the fifty-yard line, and he’d waved and waved and waved to the crowd until tears rolled down his cheeks.
It was like magic, taking the field again. The fresh-cut grass, the sun-warmed leather football. The squeak of pads and the crunch of cleats. His teammates surrounding him, every one supporting each other for every play, every time. His blood was pumping, his muscles thrumming. This was what he’d loved for so many years.
Late in the second quarter, he connected with Wes on a slant pass that led to a breakaway, and Wes sprinted thirty-six yards to the end zone. The fans went wild, and he ran down the field after Wes to leap into his arms. It was their moment, and he soaked up every molecule he could: The feel of Wes and him together in the end zone. The rest of his team cheering for him, slapping him on his back and his helmet, all the big guys hoisting him into the air. The roar of the crowd and the smile on Coach’s face. The feeling in his chest.
And when he and Wes jogged to the sideline, he saw Nick and Justin together in the stands, beaming down at them. In his moment, his perfect moment, he’d turned to the stands and found the man he loved.
Their love and their future unfurled between them, forever and happiness and all his dreams with Nick.
It was his and Wes’s final game together, and that ended up being their final touchdown, too. Four years together, teammates and best friends and brothers, from meeting as freshmen at that introductory team meeting to putting in hours on the field, before and after practice, over holidays and summer break and in the blinding rain or the roaring wind. Through heartache and desperation and injury, loneliness and anguish and finding each other again. Through everything, together.
He and Orlando connected in the third, and then Dante caught a pass and ran the ball in backward for the third Texas touchdown. They won the game, and when the confetti fell, Colton stood in the center of the field and let it rain over him.
Until Nick came across the field and took Colton’s hand, and the confetti poured down on them both. The whole team was there, with all their loved ones, and he and Nick were just two people in a sea of humanity. “I love you,” Colton had whispered, in the middle of the stadium, in the middle of the field.
“I love you, too,” Nick had whispered back.
After the bowl game, life slowed down. He and Kimbrough talked more. Kimbrough invited him and Nick to his New Year’s party at his estate outside Houston. Nothing with Kimbrough was ever small or modest, and the party ended up being the most glamorous night he’d ever experienced, something close to what he imagined the Oscars in Hollywood to be like. He and Nick went together, and it was their second public outing as a couple, after Nick’s company party.
As spring rolled around, Coach called him to his office and made him an offer: a graduate assistantship, a full-time position on the coaching staff as the assistant quarterback coach, and a slot in one of the coveted human dimensions graduate programs that began in the fall.
Nick had been thrilled for him, almost as thrilled as Kimbrough was when he told him over the phone. He’d thought maybe Kimbrough would be irritated, since he asked Colton every time they talked when he was coming to work for him, but he’d realized that was all part of Kimbrough’s affection: a deluge from a fire hose of bombastic care and gentle teasing, always at full volume.
He shook his head as he held Kimbrough’s gaze. “I haven’t decided on the coaching position yet,” he said. “I’m still thinking about it.”
He had choices, options, futures in front of him. He’d never thought he’d have different paths to choose from, but here he was, planning his future in conjunction with Nick. Planning a life forwe, notme.
“Well, what the hell do you have to think about? You only turned that Hobbs guy around from a sore loser and pissant to one of the best quarterbacks in the league. Give him two years, and he might be as good as you. Especially if you get to continue coaching him.”
