Page 28 of The Quarterback
How to be a man who took time to care for one of his son’s friends, someone who hadn’t known how much of a jigsaw puzzle full of holes he was until Nick arrived to trace all his missing pieces.
“Are you sure?” His voice was quiet, and he twirled his Popsicle as he tried to catch the melting syrup. “You’ve got a Fortress of Solitude thing going on up there. Don’t you like the peace and quiet?”
“It’s nice to have quiet now and then, but I was also married for a long time. I know how empty a home can feel after a few days, especially when you’re used to something else.”
Colton turned and stared at the rippling water, the white-tipped reflections of the sun dancing over the surface. Inside him, a little boy was jumping up and down, screaming, running wild.I want, I want, I want so badly.
But he wasn’t a kid, and Nick wasn’t his dad, and this had anend. It always had an end.
Was Nick using him as a surrogate son? With Justin gone, did he need an outlet for his boundless affection? No, that wasn’t fair. Nick had been there for Colton before Justin and Wes left town, before he even knew Justin was going to be gone. He couldn’t have been setting up some kind of long game, son and pretend son arranged in a row, Colton up at bat until Justin was back.
But… How far did this go before he hit the wall? Did he want to be left with the wreckage when whatever-this-was was over?
For fifteen years, at every game, he’d scoured the stands for his dad. And disappointment hardened inside him every time, until the hole he’d scooped out of himself to bury the shards of his hope had turned into a canyon that bored right through him.
Was Nick a bridge across that canyon? He was filling up all the cracks and crevices where Colton’s hope had withered and died. Or was he an earthquake that would undo him from the inside out?
Could he stand it if Nick vanished? If he wasn’t in the stands or in Colton’s life?
What if Nick was just another missing face he searched for game after game after game? If he ever played again.
He kicked a rock into the lake.Say no. Go home and stare at the walls. Toughen the fuck up. Like Wes. He’s tougher than you’ll ever be.
True, but Wes was a different man now that Justin was in his life. He could be an animal on the field and then cradle Justin’s face in his hands and leave the gentlest kiss on each of Justin’s eyelids, whispering twangy French to him as Justin smiled.I don’t want to be apart from you.Isn’tthat what he’d said?
What was better? Suffering in silence and hardening your heart against the world? Or owning what you wanted, what you needed? What would Wes be like if he’d turned away from Justin and said to himself,No, not him, not the guy who is my soul mate. What kind of man would he have become?
Say yes. Don’t let go. Don’t walk away.
He took a tentative step on the tightrope strung between his hope and fear. “Are you sure you’re cool with that?” he asked again. “’Cause I don’t want to say no, and if this is one of those life tests where I’m supposed to say no because that’s the polite thing to do, I think I’m gonna fail.”
The sun caught on Nick’s hair, winked off his sunglasses. He was in running shorts and a T-shirt, and even though he wasn’t built and brawny like Colton and Wes were, he was solid in his own way. A lean strength, like Justin had.He’d make a good kicker.“You spend enough time at my place that it makes sense for you to stay. Besides, your PlayStation is already there. Let’s swing by your house and grab some clothes and your toothbrush and anything else you want.”
His guts spun in never-ending spirals. “’Kay,” Colton said. He smiled and couldn’t stop. “Thanks. That’s— It’s—” He had no idea what to say to try to explain the big ball of feelings tumbling through him.
“It will be great,” Nick finished for him. “I’m glad you said yes. I get lonely, too.”
At the jock house, Nick carted down Colton’s work clothes and laid them in the back seat as Colton grabbed his toiletries. Toothbrush, toothpaste, razor, shaving cream, deodorant. Oh, yeah, comb. Pomade. Mouthwash, too. He tossed his loofah and bodywash into his duffel, in case Justin had some kind of weird scent in his and Wes’s bathroom. He took his painkillers and antibiotics and grabbed a book he’d been trying to read for months, a few extra charging cables, and his ball cap. And his football. He hadn’t picked it up since he’d come home from the hospital. Maybe he and Nick could head back to Lady Bird Lake and Zilker Park and throw it around some day.
He gave one last glance around his bedroom—it looked like a hurricane had gone through it—and then thundered down the stairs to where Nick was hanging out in the foyer. Nick nodded at the wall. “Hard to believe that’s where we met, huh?”
“God, you were a dick that morning. But it was for a good cause, so.” He shrugged. Smiled.
Nick held out his hand for Colton’s duffel and the football under his arm. “Got everything?”
“Yep. All the essentials. Porn mags, beef jerky, Tic Tacs—”
Nick froze.
Colton laughed as he brushed by Nick and held open the front door. “Dude, you should see your face! Oh my God, I should have been filming. Jesus, no, I didn’t bring any of that.” He slid his key in the lock as Nick trotted down the front steps. “How gross would porn and beef jerky together be?” He held on to the doorknob. When he’d imagined one more year, he never would have thought that would mean spending a summer living with Nick.
He turned the key. Tested the lock.
Nick was in the driver’s seat of his Porsche already, Colton’s duffel tucked into the trunk. He had the football in his hands, and when Colton slid into the passenger seat, Nick passed it to him. “I’m glad you brought this.”
He tried to toss the ball to himself with his left hand. He bobbled, and the ball bounced off his knee, smacked his chin, and hit the dashboard. “That’s Division I football right there.”
Nick laughed, put his car into gear, and peeled away from the curb.
