“Same,” Evan said.
CJ shifted his weigh and huffed out a breath as he dragged a hand through his hair. “Fuck,” he muttered. “This is awkward. Why is this awkward?”
Evan’s mouth twitched, but it wasn’t quite a smile. “I don’t know.”
“All of a sudden we don’t know how to say goodnight?”
Evan glanced at him then, and something flashed across his face that CJ couldn’t quite read. “I guess we’re out of practice.”
“We’re still good, right?” The question slipped out before he could stop it.
Evan locked eyes with him. “Yeah. We’re good.”
“Okay,” he said. “Good. See you tomorrow at practice?”
“Yeah.” Evan turned to leave. “Get some sleep.”
CJ waited until Evan was in his apartment before he let himself into his own.
He’d showeredand was leaning against his kitchen island with a couple of takeout menus in front of him when his phone buzzed. CJ picked up his phone and saw a group text from Rizzo to him and Evan.
Rizzo
Were you guys in Juniper Creek this week?
CJ stared at the message. How the hell—his phone buzzed again, then again. Two more messages in rapid succession, both from the team group chat. Then another from his agent. His group chat with his brothers. Then his mother, who rarely texted first, if she did at all.
“What the fuck?” he whispered. His stomach dropped and a chill ran across his body.
Rizzo
Just a heads up. I’m sorry, guys. Let me know what I can do.
www.sportsdrama.com
CJ clicked the link. The page took a second to load, just long enough to make his pulse spike in anticipation of something he already knew was going to be bad.
A headline snapped into place:Secret Lovers?
Followed by a photo that made CJ’s breath hitch. The caption read,
CJ Hartman and Evan Delgado share a cozy lunch date in Juniper Creek, CA, on Wednesday, July 15th.
“What the fuck?”
He recognized the restaurant immediately, could easily identify the square table in the corner and the window behind them with the main street of Juniper Creek visible through the glass. In the photo, Evan was looking out the window, his hand on CJ’s thigh and CJ’s hand curled loosely around it in a way that couldn’t be explained as anything other than exactly what it was.
A moment later, the angle of the shot registered, and CJ’s stomach rolled. It wasn’t from outside or from a booth across the room. It came from the left side of the frame, from inside the restaurant, at a slightly elevated angle. From the direction of the counter, and the man in overalls who’d been hunched over a newspaper when they walked in and hadn’t seemed to pay them any attention at all. Both of them had looked at the man once and thought he was harmless. He would never make that mistake again.
CJ sat down on the edge of the couch.
His phone buzzed again.
Evan
Fuck.
A pause.
