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“Then you get naked, too.”
I clicked over to FaceTime and set the phone down to shuck my clothes, probably breaking speed records as I did. Fuck my hip. This would probably cure it, anyway.
18
TUCKER
I’d never felt this kind of excitement ping-ponging through my body before. I was always stoked to play football, of course. I lived and breathed that shit and had since I was a kid. Another well-known fact about me was that I thrived off competing; it made my heart beat faster and my blood flow quicker. The thought of playing against my man? Yeah, that was some next-level shit.
This was different from our games with the Royals last season. At first, Patrick and I were just fucking. We hadn’t admitted there was something real there until the night they took us out of the playoffs, so this added a whole new layer. It was the best kind of high, all of my favorite things wrapped into one except…well, except that I couldn’t show I was even more eager than usual to play them. I couldn’t share the why of it with anyone. I couldn’t publicly celebrate with him afterward, no matter who won, because no matter how much I wanted to beat them—and I really did—there wasn’t a universe where I couldn’t be happy for Patrick either. That I didn’t think he deserved it. That I didn’t know he had fought for football his whole life on his own and didn’t have a family to celebrate his successes.
I tried to wipe those thoughts from my head as I finished the drive to the stadium. There was a football game to focus on, but instead, I was remembering the last time I was with Patrick a couple of months ago in Tahoe and how different our phone calls and FaceTimes were now. It was getting harder for him—the secret and the distance—and the truth was, it was getting harder for me too. I tried more to play it off like it didn’t matter, to joke with him and try to make him smile, but every time I saw Ramsey and G together, I wished that could be us.
It was ridiculous, and if I weren’t so damned crazy about him, I would walk away.
I killed the engine in my SUV when I arrived. I got out just in time to see Ramsey and Garrett pull up together, because that was a thing they got to do—drive to work in the same vehicle. Play together. Live together. The whole damn world got to know who they were to each other, and I couldn’t pretend I wasn’t jealous about that.
“Hey, man, what’s up?” Ramsey said as they approached.
I must have shown my emotions on my face, or maybe it was the way I grumbled out a “’Sup” that told him I was feeling some kinda something.
“You good?” Ramsey frowned. He didn’t see it, but both he and Houston were the daddies of the group—Houston because he was the most responsible motherfucker on Earth—maybe except when he lost his head around Cullen and Rams because he was a caretaker.
“Yeah, sorry. Just have shit on my mind.”
“Is everything okay with the family?”
I waved off his concern. “Yep. Ignore me. Just ready to play some football.”
“Ready to beat Whitt’s ass is more like it. I hate that prick,” Garrett said as we made our way toward the building.
“Everyone hates that prick,” Ramsey added.
I mean, I couldn’t say they were wrong, only that the people who hated him didn’t really know him. Not the way I did. Not the real Patrick.
“Was he not hugged as a child? I don’t get why he’s such an asshole,” G teased.
I got it, got why they said the shit they did, and yeah, last time they talked to Whitt, he was shitty to them, but I couldn’t stop my protective instinct from rearing up. “You obsessed with Patrick or what? We’re here to kick their ass in football just like any other team.”
Garrett and Ramsey stopped walking, tossing each other confused looks before they both started cracking up laughing at the same time.
Um…what the fuck? Had I missed something?
“Shut the fuck up. You hate him just as much as the rest of us,” Ramsey said.
“You really had me going for a minute. You first-named his cocky ass and everything.”
I tried to force myself to laugh with them, but I wasn’t feeling it because I didn’t hate Patrick Whitt at all.
* * *
We wentover Royals film first, then got ready for the game.
Me:See you tonight, baby. Winner gets to choose how we fuck.
I didn’t know if he would get the message before the game, but he would see it at some point.
We played each other twice this season before the playoffs, once now in September and then again in November. I wasn’t sure how often we would be able to get together outside of those days and maybe our bye week. All I knew was I planned to do everything in my power to get him to Mom’s house for Christmas this year. I wanted him to have that, to decorate with us, and for my family to get to know him.
