Page 30 of The Quarterback
Did Justin need to know? Wasn’t it assumed he and Nick would be hanging out, from all the jokes Wes and Justin had made before they left? They’d said it a half dozen times: Wes and Justin, off at the ranch. Nick and Colton, working in the office. Together.
Thistogether, though?
He hadn’t expected to be spending so much time with Nick back when they were joking about it all, but he wasn’t complaining. If anything, volunteering to go with Nick on a business trip was ratcheting up their one-on-one time.
Justin was his friend, but Justin was Nick’s son, and Colton was following Nick’s lead in what was said. If Nick hadn’t told Justin about Colton moving in, well, maybe it wasn’t that important to share. Nick knew Justin better than Colton did. He had to have his reasons. Whatever those reasons were, Colton didn’t push.
Their phones buzzed at the same time, and they sat back and swiped on their screens. Nick got his open first. Colton heard him gasp, heard him breathe, “Oh my God,” before he got his screen turned on.
Justin and Wes had sent three photos, each one a picture of them kissing. The first on horseback, leaning into each other. Taken by someone else. Graham, maybe. Them sitting on a split rail fence, heads turned just so, kissing chastely with their horses behind them. And the third, them close up, the camera centered on their faces as their lips locked and their hats tipped back, the sun shining on them. They were beaming so wide their eyes were crinkling and Wes’s dimples were out in full force, even as they kissed.
The caption was simple.The first year of our lives together.There was a simple check mark after.
“It’s their anniversary,” he blurted out. Foolishly, he realized. Of course that’s what the first year together meant. “They must have hooked up today last year. In Paris.”
“I knew it happened over there. I never knew when,” Nick said softly. He was saving each photo, hearting them on the text thread. He swallowed, tapping his thumb against the side of his phone. Finally, he textedHappy Anniversaryalong with three hearts.I’m so proud of you both.He looked like he was seconds away from tearing up.
Congrats,Colton texted.You guys make it look easy.His breath hitched after he sent the text.
Damn, they did. Even with all the bullshit they’d faced, even with what felt like the whole world against them sometimes, Wes and Justin made falling in love look effortless. He’d watched them build a new life together this past year, watched them take Wes and Justin as individuals and put them together to make Wes-and-Justin. They did it with smiles, with laughter, with held hands and a shit ton of French, kisses and quiet moments in the backyard or on the couch or during water breaks at practice. They were so obviously, so completely, so totally in love with each other. And happy. Radiantly, overwhelmingly happy.
“Have you ever been that happy?” he whispered to Nick.
There was something in the air, a weight that hung between them. Nick’s clenched throat, the way his leg was bouncing a mile a minute. Colton’s hammering heart, his lungs that wouldn’t work right. Justin and Wes and their love had stunned them both, not just into silence, but into smallness.
Who were they next to the sun and moon of Justin and Wes’s love?
“I don’t think so,” Nick choked out. He was staring at the close-up of Justin and Wes. Kept tapping to make his screen stay on. His thumb stroked over Justin’s smiling face.
They didn’t hear back from the cowboys, but that was hardly surprising. Colton lived with them. He’d heard Wes’s bed frame scraping on the floor almost every night. Wes had gotten better about muffling his sex noises, but until he figured out something to do about that bed frame, everyone in the house knew when those two were going at it. Their anniversary? He bet the horses and cattle would be spooked all night long deep in the heart of West Texas.
Nick was quiet after dinner. He poured himself another glass of wine, even though he usually stopped after one and a half. He watched the stars as Colton carried their plates and silverware back into the kitchen, rinsed them off, and loaded the dishwasher. He didn’t want to interrupt Nick’s solitude after that, but he needed his help. He puttered in the kitchen until Nick wandered inside.
“Ready?” Nick asked.
He didn’t forget.Colton smiled. “Whenever you are.”
He was four weeks into his recovery, and that meant a new phase of physical therapy. It wasn’t much, and he was still restricted to wearing a sling during the day and his Terminator sling for sleeping, but now, twice a day, he was supposed to raise his injured arm and lower it back down. But not on his own. He needed to either lift his arm with his other hand or, preferably, have another person help him.
It was belly-button-puckering to face Nick and lay his palm on top of Nick’s, let his shoulder go slack, and then let Nick lift and lower his right arm. It was intimate in a way he’d never known, not even while helping Wes regain his strength in the hospital. He and Nick faced each other, looked into each other’s eyes, and counted out loud. Hands together. Skin touching. He had to raise for five seconds, then lower for five. Repeat ten times. One hundred seconds of being face-to-face.
After ten lifts and lowers, his shoulder burned. The first time they’d done this, he’d been morose, convinced he’d never throw a football again. Nick had stayed by his side all evening, refusing to let him sulk alone. And, each day, the lifts hurt fractionally less. He was, marginally, improving.
Usually he held Nick’s gaze through his lifts, but that night his eyes kept bouncing to their joined hands, the countertop, his own fluttering bicep. To Nick’s pulse, steady at the side of his neck, or Nick’s phone.
The first year of our lives together. Check.
How much had Wes changed in one year? So much that, in some ways, Colton barely recognized him. He’d outgrown Colton, outpaced him in life. He was a man in every way. He loved someone, heart and soul, and someone loved him, and they were devoted to each other.
Could Colton possibly change that much in a year?
Would he ever find a girl to love the way Wes loved Justin? Would he ever find a girl who loved him that much? Would he ever smile that hugely, so broad it looked like his heart was going supernova?
“Thanks,” he mumbled when they were done. He must have clenched up, because his arm was shaking as he tried to fit his Terminator sling on. He winced, cursed, and then Nick was there, helping him strap everything down.
“Better?” Nick asked softly.
He nodded. “I think I’m gonna go to bed early. What time do you want to be on the road tomorrow?”
