Page 49 of The Quarterback
He’d loved that. Loved every minute of it.
Because that’s what you did when you were married. You rebuilt your married life with Colton, you jackass.
Is that what he’d done? He tried to contrast, then and now, remembering the rhythm of his days when he was in Dallas and the rhythm of his days now. He’d liked being married—ultimately, not to Cynthia, but he’d liked the completeness of being with another person. How his world was given to them, and their world was given over to him, and they made something new together. Sharing space, sharing time. Doubling love.
God, hehadtreated Colton like he was his spouse, in every way except the lovemaking. Which meant, on some level, he could see Colton as his partner. Hell, he was already living with Colton like he was his spouse. He’d already built a life that included Colton, a life that could spin on and on and on, one endless summer, the two of them in their own little world.
Is that what he wanted? Did he want what they had to last? An indefinable forever, the two of them continuing their… what? Friendship—even before last night—was too small a word. Relationship had too many connotations. Partnership was too dry.
Hislifewith Colton. Or at least, the potential of a shared life. Because that’s what it was. That’s what they’d done—whathe’ddone. He’d drawn Colton into his world, built a life and asked Colton to join him. And Colton had, with his PlayStation and his football and his ties that he left all over the place. Colton had become a presence in his condo, turning the sterile loft into their home. Their home together, Colton as much part of the place as he was.
I’ve dreamed so fucking much about you. And I thought, last night, that this was starting to go where my dreams were. I thought we were on the same page, and we wanted the same things. I thought you wanted me, too.
Whatdidhe want? What did he want withColton?
The thought made his mind stutter and jerk, skid to a halt as another man’s face slammed into his heart.
Justin.
He was already keeping too much from his son. What would Justin think about him asking Colton to move in with him, sleep in Justin’s bedroom? Or travel with him. Or give Colton responsibilities like he was a ten-year professional, his right-hand account executive. What would Justin say to any of that?
If Nick were another person, Justin might call him a dirty old man. A creeper. A cradle robber or an opportunist, swooping in on Colton, plucking his ripe peach before it hit the wide world.
But Nick hadn’t known he was doing that. He hadn’t known he was building a new life with Colton. And he’d never seduced Colton, never tried to tempt him. Last night, Colton kissed him first.
You kissed me back.
He had. He had kissed Colton back. And… he’d liked it.
A lot.
But Justin—
Damn it, had Justin thought of Nick when he and Wes got together? Had Nick been on his mind at all as he charted his future, fell in love with the man he chose? Why was Justin on Nick’s mind as he imagined his own future, as he thought about what could possibly be with Colton?
Wait, what? Was he really—
God, what would Justin say if he and Colton really did this? They werefriends—
Nick groaned and grasped the wheel, jerking it forward and backward like he could shake the whole car. His foot pressed down, and the car jumped, roaring down the open highway. Next to him, Colton’s eyes slipped closed. Squeezed shut.
For miles, Colton had been staring out the passenger window and into the side mirror, watching the highway’s reflection spin on and on like he’d carved out his heart and left it behind at the side of the road and was now watching the miles build as they roared away from it. He had his left hand bunched up in the fabric of his shorts and closed in a fist, but that didn’t hide the way it was shaking.
Was his arm okay? Was his shoulder all right? How much pain was he in? How out of his mind had he been that he didn’t notice when Colton took his sling off? He wanted to rewind time, go back to that moment, tell Colton, “No, keep your sling on,” then kiss him, hold him, make love to him so nothing hurt in the morning—
He held his breath. Squeezed the wheel until his nails bit into the leather.
They’d slept together. He’d slept with a man. He’d slept with Colton.
Those thoughts felt different now, with time and some distance from waking up and wondering why he was naked. Seeing Colton’s kiss-bruised lips and naked body tangled with his own.
Would this have happened one day anyway? How long could they have lived together, before the affection they had for each other turned physical? Humans were physical creatures. They sought love in multiple ways, from the social to the mental to the emotional to the physical. He and Colton had worked their way through three before stumbling into the fourth. Was that just circumstance? Could he blame this all on proximity and the divorce? Or was there something about Colton?
Words Colton spoke earlier echoed through him like a pebble dropped into a deep lake, the ripples had finally reached the shores of his conscious mind. He, like Colton, wasn’t attracted to men. But he’d certainly had no problems building a shared life with Colton, setting up the runway of forever for the two of them. And when the moment came, he hadn’t turned away from the physical expression of that togetherness. He’d embraced it. He’d kissed Coltonback.
There was definitely something about Colton.
He wasn’t gay, but he wasattractedto Colton. As a person, as a human being, as a man. As a partner. As a potential lover, even.
