by S. E. Harmon
We looked at one another for a moment. I didn’t know what to say, but I drank him in like a glass of cold lemonade on a dry, hot day.
He spoke first. “You’re still up.”
“Yeah.”
He took in the pulled-out sofa bed and all of our bedding. I’d made quite a cozy nest, if I did say so myself. “Your parents upstairs?”
“Yeah. I thought they’d be more comfortable in our bed.”
“Well, who’s in the guest room, then? Kennedy?”
“Not my sibling.” I shook my head. “Yours.”
“What?” Blue opened and then closed his mouth. He tried again, but he could only manage the same word. “What?”
“Ian,” I said patiently. “Ian Montgomery?”
“I know who my brother is, Kelly. What’s he doing here?”
“Well, I know what he was doing here a couple hours ago—waiting to talk to you. Now he’s sleeping.”
“What does he want?”
“From the way he sat uncomfortably in that chair over there for hours? Refusing all offers of food and drink? Probably to talk you out of staying with me.” I sent him a lopsided smile. “Does he have a shot?”
He sighed. “Not a chance in hell. I’m sorry you had to deal with that.”
“We’re together, Blue. Your family is my family, whether they like it or not.”
“God, then I really owe you an apology.”
I chuckled. “Where’d you go?”
“I just drove… no place in particular. It helps me think. I tried to call and let you know I’d be late, but your phone was off.”
“I had to turn it off, either that or chuck it in a glass of water. It was ringing off the hook.” Everyone and their mama had decided to either confront me or congratulate me or just be plain nosy.
My aunt left three messages. Would blue be a little too on the nose as a color for the wedding? Blue and silver for Outlaw team colors? Or maybe just blue bow ties for your tuxes?
Then Connor. Yo! Glad Blue finally got his head out of his ass. What do you think about a threesome? ’Cuz that would be really fucking hot.
And then a screaming one from Robert, my ex-fiancé. I fucking knew it. All these years you said you were just friends. You’re so full of bullshit, Kelly. You two deserve each other!
After that I turned off the whole shebang.
Lit only by the glare of the TV, he crossed the room and sat on the edge of the couch next to me. I scooched over to make more room, and he pulled me back so we were touching again. He brushed his thumb across my wrist.
“So what do you think?”
I answered him promptly. Honestly. “I think you’re maybe the bravest person I know.”
A fleeting smile, and then he sighed. “I’m glad you approve.”
“Social media is still voting on nicknames for us,” I ventured.
“Yeah? What’s the frontrunner?”
“Klue.”
He huffed a soft laugh. “As long as they don’t call us Belly, I’m good.”
He made room for himself between my legs and urged them apart. He crawled between them carefully and leaned back against me, his back to my front. Then he sank down just enough so his head was under my chin, and despite him being so much bigger than me, it was awfully comfortable.
We sat in the quiet, enjoying one another’s presence. It was a comfortable silence born of years of knowing what the other was thinking. I trailed my fingers in his hair and alternately played with the strands and massaged his warm scalp. It was one of the few places I was sure he didn’t have an actual bruise. I tried not to look at the darkening skin along his jaw because it made me want to strangle his father. Every time I thought that man had reached the ultimate level of assholedom, he reached down deep and surpassed himself.
“Was there much of a fallout?” I finally asked.
“You mean after I came out to the entire team before one of the most important games of the season?” He gave a short laugh. “You could say that.”
I winced. And so it begins. “How’d they take it?”
“Some of them were really supportive. Thinking back on it, I’m not even sure why I’m surprised. Diesel, Dane, Warner, Ivanovich? McAdams was certainly grinning ear to ear. They’ve always had my back. I didn’t give them enough credit.”
“That’s a lot of people you didn’t mention.”
“Yup. Sure is.” He didn’t elaborate, and I got the picture pretty quickly.
“I’m sorry, Blue.”
“Eh. What’re you gonna do? Rakevik tried to take a swing at me, and let’s just say the word fag was used quite liberally.” He sighed. “I felt guilty, almost like I’d split the team in half. It’s not like we had a lot of time to get our shit together before we got out on the field. It helped when Coach and the GM made it clear that I had their full support and that anyone who didn’t like it could walk.”
I was almost afraid to ask. “Did anyone take them up on it?”
“No. Turns out there’s something they care more about than me being in a relationship with a man.”
“Yeah, what’s that?”
“Winning.” He said it quietly, and it sounded like a direct quote.
“What about Rakevik?”
“Suspended. Two games.”
I sneered. “What, preseason games next year?”
“Nope. And fined.”
I blinked. “That’s odd. Why the change of heart?”
“Until I see the EKG with my own eyes, it hasn’t been proven that Coach Maxwell has a heart,” he said dryly. “If it wasn’t for my contract, they’d probably let Bjorn beat me like a dirty rug.”
“Kind of harsh.”
“Kind of true. They see me and my body as an investment, Kel. A forty-five-million-dollar investment that they’ve got to get their money out of.” He stretched a little and winced. I moved my massage to his shoulders, and he grunted as I dug in. “Apparently if you mess with that, you get the horns.”
That reminded me of my fear as I watched him get hurt. Don’t say anything. Don’t say a word. Everything is settled. You love him, he loves you, and you’re committed to one another. Hell, you don’t even have to sneak around anymore. What else could you possibly want?
I dropped my hands from his shoulders as I burst out, “I can’t do it anymore.”
He glanced up at me and raised an eyebrow. He stared at me for a few seconds and then spoke in a measured tone. “You wanna be a little more specific?”
“This. Us.”
“Us?” he asked mildly. “Because I know you’re not dumping me after I came out for you on national fucking TV.”
Okay, his tone was a little less mild there at the end.
“You’re not supposed to come out for someone else. It’s supposed to be for yourself,” I informed him.
“Kelly.”
Right. That was so not the issue. “I could deal with all the antigay shit and your teammates giving us shit, even all the shit that goes along with being the poster couple for the gay NFL.”
“That’s a lot of shit,” he deadpanned.
“Don’t fucking joke about this, Blue. I’m serious. Watching you get hit like that? I think I lost years off my life. Years. And I’m pretty sure I’m already shortchanging myself anyway because of my love of trans fats.” I thought about that a second, until he sighed and snapped his fingers.
“Kelly. Could you focus?”
“You didn’t see my last set of labs, Blue. My bad cholesterol is off the charts. I think my doctor wants me committed. Some sort of fat camp sponsored by I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter.”
“We’ll work on your intake of trans-fatty foods,” he said around a sigh. “What else?”
“I saw that guy hit you, and I almost lost my dinner. I can’t watch that again. I can’t keep waiting on the sidelines, waiting for you to get a hit that breaks you in some irreversible way.”
“I’ve been doing this for years, Kel. Nothing is going to—”<
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“You can’t say nothing is going to happen to you. You’ve had two concussions, for crying out loud. Do you even know what would happen to you if you had a third?”
He sighed. “So what, you want me to quit my job?”
“Yes.” Oh my God, what are you saying? Someone was running around and burning shit down in my head, because I exclaimed, “Hell yes.”
“So what am I going to do? Just quit and do what?” he demanded. “You want me to give up the dream I’ve been working for my whole life?”
“Yes.”
“Become a coach or something?”
“If that’s what you want to do.”
“So I should talk to the Outlaws’ management team and my agent and tell them I want to go in a new direction? Maybe even tell them that the rookie I’ve been grooming is a fucking natural, and pretty soon he’ll be more than capable of taking over my position?”
I squinted at him as something tried to gel. “That’s awfully specific.”
“Maybe I could even volunteer at the camp a little more.” He smiled sanguinely. “Expand our program for the spring and not just the summer and fall.”
I blinked. “That would be nice.”
“Hell, I guess I could even explore some options in broadcasting. Maybe even take a few courses in communications at the local university to brush up my skills.” He widened those big, pretty blue eyes, head still in my lap. “Is that what you want me to do?”
I sighed. He was already fifteen steps ahead of me, and I was late to the party. In fact the party was already over, and I was just ringing the doorbell with a bag of ice. “I hate you, you know.”
“You love me.” He caught my wrist and brought it to his mouth for a gentle kiss. “I’m just fucking with you.”
“I know that now.”
“I talked to the GM and my management team. And my agent. My coach.” He rubbed my pulse point, and we could both feel it jump under his thumb. “There’s been a lot of fucking talking going on since that interview. I told them about my decision. They’re renegotiating my contract for one last year. Then I’m retiring, Kel.”
It was like music to my ears. I couldn’t hide the relief on my face, and I was glad he wasn’t looking at me.
“I know you’ve been worried about me getting injured. You haven’t exactly been quiet about that. And to be perfectly honest, I want to do some other things with my life while I still can.” His expression softened even further. “I knew you felt strongly about it, but you’re actually shaking.”
“I tried to make suggestions. Not freak out on you.”
“I need to know what you’re thinking, Kel. Always. If you’re freaking out, I need to know it.”
I sighed. “Nothing good ever comes of trying to get between someone and his one true love.”
“You’re right about that.” He dropped my wrist and reached up for my face. I leaned into his hand, and he ghosted his fingers across my jaw. “But football isn’t my one true love, Kel.”
I looked at him blankly for a minute before it sank in. And once again I responded like an idiot savant. “Oh.”
I struggled for the words, struggled to say something that would make him feel one iota of what he made me feel for him. “You know… you know how I….” I blew out a frustrated breath. “You and I have always been—”
“Thank God you’re not an English professor.”
I glared at the top of his dark blond head and sniffed regally. “I just need a moment to gather my thoughts.”
“You go right ahead,” he said, clearly amused.
I thought about it for a minute as I nuzzled his hair. Finally I thought I might have it. “You’re the only person I’ve ever loved.” I paused as the words took a short circuit back through my ears. I didn’t know whether it was the scientist in me or what, but I had to amend it for accuracy’s sake. “Except my mother, my dad, my sister, my aunt Beth, Connor…. There was also this one best friend I had in first grade, but that was before you moved in next door—”
“Kelly,” he said with a sigh.
“You’re the only person I’ve ever loved like this,” I finished hurriedly.
He leaned his head back so he could look me fully in the eyes. Knowing Blue, he did it so I’d know he meant every word. “You’re annoying. Hilarious. Sweet. You make me yell. You drive me absolutely batty. You put way too much Imagine Dragons on my workout playlist.”
“Welcome to the new age,” I murmured, their latest song already playing in my mind.
“You squeeze the toothpaste from the middle, and you keep too much change in your cupholder. I can’t decide whether your love of butter or sugar is going to kill you first, and I’m pretty sure you’re out of your mind.”
“And?” I knew all of that.
He pulled me down for a kiss. As our lips met, he whispered, “And you’re everything I want.”
The man might be a football legend, but his real genius was clearly with words.
EPILOGUE
Kelly
One year later
“UNITS OF momentum. Front row, third seat from the left.” Because my latest batch of physics students couldn’t manage basic counting, there was a moment of chaos. I sighed and checked my seating chart, which, more often than not, was wrong. “Ms. Ericson,” I finally said.
Some girl across the room in a different seat answered. “Yeah?”
Whatever. “Units of momentum?” I repeated.
She bit her lip. “Kilograms times meters per second?”
“You asking me or telling me?”
She thought about it. “Telling.”
“Good job. Back row. Second seat. Gravity.”
The kid spinning a ring on his finger sat straight up from a slouch. “Um… nine point eight meters per second squared.”
“Force.” When there was no response forthcoming, I clicked my tongue in annoyance. “Force.”
He blew out a nervous breath but finally came up with an answer. “What causes an object to change velocity or accelerate?”
I nodded. “Not bad. That’s how fast I want you guys to know these formulas for the test on Friday. Don’t just count on the formula sheet. You need to know them back and forth and be able to transpose them at will.”
They looked properly unmotivated, so I dusted off my hands. My job there was done. “Any last questions before I let you get out of here?”
Hands went up across nearly the whole room. I looked at the sea of hands with dismay and narrowed my eyes. “Any questions related to something other than the upcoming Super Bowl?”
I was proud of Blue’s team making it to the playoffs again and him going for a possible fourth—and last, let’s not forget last—Super Bowl ring. But that had no place in my lecture hall.
Sure enough, half the hands went down, albeit a tad reluctantly, but that was still a lot of crowd participation from a group that had been just about snoozing. “Any questions related to anything other than Britton Montgomery?”
Another quarter went down.
I thought hard. “Or his retirement this year.”
The rest of the students put their hands down with a huff.
Perfect. I bit my lip and tried not to laugh. “All right. I’ll see you on Friday.”
I snapped my fingers as I remembered one more thing I wanted to write down. “Thursday at eight,” I projected over the din, “there’ll be an extracredit lecture.”
I searched for markers but quickly gave up. O’Rourke had gone through my pack of markers and his. I was going to have to start chaining them to the board like the bank did their pens.
Although I usually drove like a bat out of hell, I took my time getting home because Blue was no fun when he had a championship game coming up. I couldn’t wait until he played his last game and he could stay home all day, and I could test recipes on him and get him fat. We could have lazy weekends in bed and not have to worry about whether sex would sap his energy in strength training. I scowled. Especially
that last part.
None of that would happen. Blue would be the same restless person he was—working out, eating healthy, trying to get me to run, and buying me Fitbits that I kept “losing.” And I loved every minute of being with him.
Things hadn’t been easy. The media had a sick fascination with us, and the first six months, it was hard to get peace of mind with all the hounding. Not all of his teammates were okay with it either. He’d had his share of bloody noses and black eyes that he didn’t want to talk about. But we were still together and stronger than ever.
His brother, Ian, had been an unexpected ally. He wasn’t exactly waving the rainbow flag for us, but he made it clear that no one messed with Blue but him. And even though he made a big production of having plans on the holidays, he invariably wound up at our house, covered dish in hand and a sheepish expression on his face. He also gave me a signed jersey for my birthday, which Blue assured me was as good as a bear hug in Ian’s world. Then he told me the only Montgomery jersey I’d ever be wearing was his.
Even though we felt more at home in my condo, the media and the fans made it impossible to stay there. We moved to Blue’s place, which had more security and more space. Blue also had enough stuff for three people, so it just made sense. As I pulled into the garage, I saw his SUV and felt a frisson of happiness that he was home.
“Blue.” I came in the house and dropped my messenger bag on the floor—he hated that. I went through the house and checked for him, but I had an inkling where he might be. There was a reason he picked a house surrounded by water. Sure enough, I glanced out the bay window and saw him standing on the beach, arms crossed. His khaki pants were folded up to his calves, and frothy water swirled around his ankles.
I slipped through the sliding glass doors and headed down the steps. I kicked off my shoes at the base of the stairs and walked barefoot across the sand to join him.
He turned to me and smiled. “You’re late.”
You’re beautiful. He gave the smile he always reserved just for me, and I swallowed hard. “I love you.”