Page 40 of The Quarterback
Nick did stay for a few minutes, until he saw Colton rolling his shoulder, clenching and releasing his muscles, and slowly unfurling each finger on his right hand one by one. Colton tried to make his stretching as boring as fucking possible so Nick would leave, and, finally, he did.
Colton sagged off the edge of the couch and onto the carpet once Nick walked away. His dick was only half-hard, at last. He stared at the ceiling and remembered the feel of Nick’s hands on him, those long fingers brushing over his skin, up and down his spine.
He groaned as his dick perked up again, more than happy to relive the memories of Nick’s touch.
Maybe he should sleep out here on the couch. How was he going to share a bedroom with Nick when he dreamed about the guy every night? What if he said Nick’s name in his sleep? Did he do that? He didn’t know. What if he came in his sleep? He did do that. What if he humped a pillow or the mattress until the bed squeaked and Nick woke up, and Colton came all over himself as Nick tried to shake him awake, andthenhe gasped Nick’s name?
Maybe it was a horrible idea to come up here with Nick.
He put his Terminator sling back on and trudged into the bedroom. Nick was already asleep, snoring hard, flat on his back. Maybe the whisky would keep him out no matter what Colton said or did. Colton set a bottle of water beside Nick’s phone on the nightstand before he slipped into his own bed and rolled onto his side. Facing Nick.
If you loved me, I’d never make you regret it. I’d never give you a reason to wish we hadn’t met. If you loved me, I’d never let you drink to try to forget us.
But Nick wouldn’t fall in love with him. And because of that, he wouldn’t ever have the chance to regret him, either.
Colton would be the one living with the regrets.
Chapter Twelve
Nick woke up slightly hungover,and he was bleary and quiet through breakfast, then tight-lipped and wound up as they drove to meet his attorney. She was a beautiful woman, slender and elfin, her dark hair perfectly spun into an elegant French bun. Her name was Francesca de los Santos, and her voice was perfectly calm and soothing. Colton watched Nick relax, micron by micron, as she walked them through what to expect at the final hearing. If she was surprised by Colton being there, she didn’t show it.
The divorce hearing went faster than Colton thought it would. Both lawyers spoke. Nick and his ex both stated they wanted the divorce and that they agreed to the terms. The judge listened and then issued the divorce, declaring their marriage, as of that day, legally over. Nick didn’t look at his ex once, and when the hearing was finished, he, Francesca, and Colton strode out of the courtroom and out of the courthouse as fast as they could. Nick shook Francesca’s hand on the steps and then turned his face up to the sun. He closed his eyes. Exhaled.
He gave his keys to Colton. “Why don’t you drive us home?”
When Nick fell asleep half an hour into the drive, Colton turned down the radio. He’d put on the Spotify mix he’d made for Nick, but he hadn’t said anything, hadn’t told Nick the playlist was for him. He let it play, let the music try to say all the things he couldn’t as the miles blurred.
There was something else Colton had put together for Nick that he hadn’t told Nick about, either.
He’d woken early. He wasn’t going to wake up in come-stained boxers in front of Nick, damn it. He set his alarm and woke two hours early in case he needed to shower or change or hide his sheets. He didn’t, thank fuck. His dreams stayed tame, and though he and Nick spent the night driving up and down the roads of Texas, holding hands like the lovesick fools he dreamed they were, and Nick kept saying,It’s so much better with youandI’m never alone with you,Colton, he didn’t end up creaming himself. Small miracles. He’d used the time that morning to finish Nick’s playlist.
And then he thought back, remembering his and Nick’s conversations from the days they’d spent together.I don’t want to be in the past. I only want to think about the future.
He could give Nick a day to start that future, hopefully, with a smile. He’d pulled up Google Maps, checked the drive times. The only thing he couldn’t figure out was how to get Nick there and keep the whole thing a surprise, but when Nick handed him the keys, that solved that problem.
Nick slept through the rest of the drive, only stirring after Colton had made the westward turn at Georgetown onto Highway 29. Nick blinked as he stared at the road. “Where are we?”
Colton checked his map. “An hour away.”
“From where?”
“Where I’m taking you.”
“That sounds ominous. Am I being kidnapped?”
Colton looked at Nick and almost drove off the road. Nick’s hand flew to the dash. “Sorry,” Colton grunted. He’d gotten lost in Nick’s gaze. “Do you trust me?”
“After that?” Nick chuckled. “Well, maybe I shouldn’t, but I do. But please, this isn’t some midlife-crisis thing, is it? Making me bungee jump or get an ear piercing? Or a tattoo?”
“I can’t see you doing any of those things. I know you, and none of that is you.”
Nick smiled. “You know me, huh?”
His heart skipped three beats. “I hope I do. I guess we’ll find out in an hour.”
“I guess we will.”
Fifty-nine minutes later, he pulled into the parking lot of one of the best wineries and tasting rooms in all of Texas. The Porsche rumbled over the caliche parking lot, and he parked beneath a shade tree, facing the winery’s dramatic, castle-like entrance. Vineyards spilled over the surrounding hillsides, extending for miles in all directions. The sun was shining, turning the bunches of grapes on the vines into clusters of fat rubies and black diamonds.
