Page 2 of The Quarterback
Nick felt his smile fall short of his eyes. “No date for me, either.”
Colton raised his beer bottle for another toast. “Bachelor life. Right on.”
He clinked, and then they fell silent, watching Wes and Justin on the dance floor.
So deeply in love. Would he find that again someday? He wasn’t ready to look yet, not so soon after separating from Cynthia. The hurt was still too fresh, like a deep bruise or an ache he couldn’t stretch out. The long, slow death of his marriage was worse than a quick gut punch. If Cynthia had gone out and had an affair, he could have ended things cleanly, used his anger to package up his past and then move on. But the gasping way they’d hung on even as they grew further and further apart, until Cynthia was a stranger to him, made it feel like he’d been torn in half from top to bottom.
It was the betrayal that hit him hardest: the betrayal of who he’d thought Cynthia was as a person. He’d thought there was no way she could ever choose anything or anyone over her son. That she could never look at Justin and think he wasn’t wonderful, the best parts of the two of them combined. He was a handful, to be sure, but a good person, the kind of man Nick had lain awake at night and prayed his son would turn out to be.
There was nothing in his entire life that matched the stab to his heart when Cynthia told him she thought their son was broken and needed to be fixed.
There wasn’t any coming back from that moment. He loved Justin exactly as he was. Cynthia didn’t. And he wasn’t willing to share his life with someone who didn’t accept Justin. Cynthia wasn’t willing to change her beliefs, so there was nowhere for them to go but apart.
He wasn’t ready to let anyone else in yet. Wasn’t ready to open himself up. The only thing that mattered to him now was the happiness he saw in Justin’s eyes every day.
“You know,” Colton said, rocking back on his heels, “I tore up the gym in fifth-grade PE class when they made us learn swing dancing.”
The music shifted to a faster beat, and couples began flying around the dance floor. Wes spun Justin in and out of his arms, pulled him close, laid him out in a back-bending dip.
“Did you? My ex and I used to dance when we were dating. Swing, blues, ballroom. We were pretty good, way back in the day.” Then Justin was born, and there wasn’t time for dance nights or even dates anymore. But, huh. Was it any wonder Justin was a dancer now?
“I won the Sugar Land Elementary All-Fifth-Grade Swing Championship,” Colton bragged. “You can’t top that.”
Nick set his beer down behind him and held out his hand. “Put your money where your mouth is, and show me those skills.”
Colton blinked.
Colton, like Wes, had one of the most recognizable faces in college football. His picture was plastered on ESPN weekly. Almost daily. Everything he’d said, everything he’d done since Wes had been outed had been turned over, examined, dissected. After the national championship game, Wes and Colton had sat down for one joint interview with ESPN. More than what they said, how they’d interacted, the obvious connection between them, had solidified their public identities as inseparable brothers. And while support for Wes had been significant, and seemed to grow larger with each passing month, there were still those who despised Wes for who he was, who accused him of trying to change the culture of football. Who hated Colton, too, for his unwavering, unflinching public support of Wes and his place on the team.
There had also been whispers and hateful rumors passed along internet forums and message boards: that Colton was Wes’s bitch, that he was as gay as Wes was, that the whole team was a bunch of pansies. That Colton was on his knees for Wes and he’d do anything Wes told him to do as long as they kept winning.
None of it was true, but that didn’t matter. Hate didn’t need truth to spread like wildfire.
But Nick still should know better. Stakes were higher for Colton than for him. And there was a difference between supporting your best friend on the field and on ESPN and by standing beside him at banquets, and taking the hand of another man and dancing with him in public. Nick was established, successful, and as secure in his identity as a recently divorced middle-aged man rebuilding his relationship with his formerly estranged son could be. He didn’t have newspapers and columnists following him, dissecting his grades and the beers he drank and the words he said, trying to pick out his personality through bits and pieces of his life.
What was a simple, lighthearted, and friendly joke to Nick could be gasoline on the flames that consumed Colton’s reputation. Weeks of online fury. Eyebrows raised on ESPN. Maybe NFL teams looking past him in the draft. “Sorry,” he said, pulling his hand back. He shook his head, smiling an apology. “I was playing around, and I didn’t think that through. Maybe I’ve had one too many beers.”
Colton downed the rest of his beer, holding Nick’s gaze. He dropped the bottle on the table, cleared his throat, and held out his hand. “Let’s do it,” he said. “Fuck ’em.”
“Colton, I don’t want—”
Colton waggled his hand in front of Nick. “Fuck the haters. It’s just for fun. And I’ve got my fifth-grade reputation to uphold.”
Nick laughed again and took Colton’s hand, letting the younger man lead him to the dance floor. If it had been any other event, maybe people would have turned and stared, watching Colton walk hand in hand with another man. But they were among hundreds of same-sex couples, and no one batted an eye. Later, surely, the ripples would hit the internet.
“Let’s go show Wes and Justin what real dancing is,” Colton said.
They made their way over to Justin and Wes. Justin’s head whipped from left to right as he tried to keep his gaze on them while Wes spun him in a tight circle. He tap-tap-tapped Wes’s chest, jerking his chin at Nick and Colton as Colton held out his arms, assuming the lead dancer position.
“I might step on your feet,” Nick said. “I’ve never danced the lady’s part before.”
“Well, you know what they say.” Colton set his hand at the small of Nick’s back and pulled him close. They were almost eye to eye, but not quite. Colton was slightly taller and a lot broader than Nick. His tuxedo fit him like a second skin, flowing over the taut, thick lines of his muscled shoulders and arms. His narrow hips slotted against Nick’s, their thighs brushing as Colton took the first step. His body gently guided Nick, leading him to step back with his left foot as Colton moved forward with his right. “Nobody puts Baby in the corner.” Colton winked and they spun around Wes and Justin, mimicking their twirls and dips and flares, laughing so hard they sometimes missed a step.
“Switch!” Colton called out to Wes, and he and Wes spun Nick and Justin outward, then let go, letting each man spin into the other partner’s arms. Nick ended up in Wes’s hold, one hand on Wes’s hip and the other in Wes’s hand. Wes kept his body a respectable distance from Nick’s.
“Having fun?” Nick asked, breathless.
Wes’s beaming smile said it all. His gaze drifted over Nick’s shoulder to where Colton was twirling Justin around and around and around, and Justin was laughing so hard he was almost hiccuping. “It feels like a dream,” Wes said.
