Page 14 of The Quarterback
“You know what they say about old dogs and new tricks?”
“Come on, it will be fun.” Colton smiled up at him, and, despite the dizzying array of buttons and the seemingly superfluous extra joystick on the overwhelming controller, Nick caved.
“All right. What game am I going to suck at for your entertainment?”
He was deep into the first two hours ofHalo, Colton backseat gaming him every other moment, when Wes appeared in Colton’s doorway, breathless from his sprint back from the stadium. He looked from the TV to the two of them and back again, his eyes boggling.
“Bro, Nick’s killing it,” Colton said. “He’s never played before, and he’s already got to level four. No, dude, go left. No,left. Your other left!”
“Will you—” Something exploded in front of him, and the kill screen flashed.
“Aw, man!” Colton cried. “I told you to go left!”
“You could have said go left earlier, before I was already going right.” Nick sagged into the couch cushions.
“I thought you were going to go the right way!”
“I was!”
“No! To the left!”
Wes shook his head. “I’m going to shower. You guys need anything?”
“Nah,” Colton said, slumping sideways on the couch and almost leaning against Nick.
“No, thanks.” Nick smiled at Wes and caught Wes’s bemused but thankful grin in return. “When you get back, why don’t you take over for me?”
Wes nodded, then disappeared. Colton was quiet for a moment, the first long stretch of silence since they’d started playing together. “Want to play again when you come over tomorrow?”
“Sure.” Nick selected to restart the level. “And I’m not done for today yet. So I go left at that turn?”
“Right. You go left.”
“You meancorrect. I go left.”
“Right.”
The game loaded as Nick glared at Colton. Colton grinned back at him, so big and broad and wide it made Nick’s cheeks ache in sympathy.
He hadn’t seen those sad, lost eyes in hours. Whatever else, he counted that a win.
Chapter Six
Nick stayeduntil Justin got home later that evening. He scooted over for Wes and let him playHalowhile he checked email. Wes hunched forward and grunted through most of the game, while Colton kept up his backseat—side seat—gaming, a running stream of commentary, invective, exuberant instructions, and exclamations. Colton met Nick’s gaze behind Wes’s back, rolling his eyes when Wes walked into a trap, grinning when he made the same mistake Nick had made that Colton warned them both about a half dozen times.
When Justin’s voice floated upstairs, through the rattle and clang of the rest of the team settling in, Nick popped to his feet and hovered at Colton’s bedroom door to wait for his son. Justin appeared in scrubs, fresh from his hospital shift, carrying two Starbucks Frappuccinos and a bag of Chinese takeout.
Nick reached for the bag and a Starbucks as Justin’s eyes went wide. “Hey, Dad. Didn’t know you were here.”
“I came to see Colton after lunch. I stayed so I could see you.”
Justin beamed. “Well, that frap is for Colton—”
Nick turned to Colton in time to see him smooth out his expression and unscrew a tension that hadn’t been there before he and Justin said hello. Colton thanked Justin for the Frappuccino as soon as Nick passed it over, but he wouldn’t meet Nick’s gaze. Which, after an entire afternoon of looking at each other every minute, stood out. Nick frowned.
“—and the Chinese is for everyone, but I didn’t know you were coming, so there might not be enough,” Justin finished.
Nick pulled open the paper bag. For three boys, Justin had brought nine containers of food. For anyone else, that would be overkill, but Wes and Colton could probably polish off four cartons each on their own. And he hadn’t seen Wes eat anything since he’d run home after practice. Maybe that was why he’d been reduced to grunting.
