The Quarterback

by Mackenzie Blair

  Summer and Hope looked at each other, and then faced their father. “You don’t need to pay. We’re National Merit Finalists, so we’ve been offered full scholarships in those programs.”

  “Seriously?” Matt said before his father could react. “That’s amazing.” And it was. Truly amazing. He felt a huge weight lift off his shoulders. Once they left for college, they’d no longer be financially reliant on their dad. Sure, they might need spending money, but they could get jobs, and he’d help out.

  Matt could see it in their eyes too. Freedom.

  But when he turned to his father, Matt saw pure fury. Matt braced himself for the eruption, but prayed their guests’ presence might delay the outburst. Instead, they were saved by a booming knock on the door. Loud, insistent pounding.

  “Excuse me,” their father said, forcing a polite smile to their guests. “Girls, why don’t you go get dessert?”

  Their father strode out of the room and a moment later, Matt could hear shouting in the foyer. “Goddamn it, Lancaster, you said this was a sure thing!”

  “Relax, Jim, I’m sure we can work this out,” their father replied, not so calmly. Matt heard his father shuffle the man into his study and slam the door closed.

  The Reynoldses exchanged concerned glances.

  Summer dared to speak into the silence. “We have pecan pie.”

  “I’m watching my weight, dear,” Mrs. Reynolds responded.

  The next fifteen minutes were incredibly awkward as their father didn’t return to the table, but muted shouting could be heard from the study. Summer offered the Reynoldses coffee, which they accepted while she packed up some of the leftovers for them. It was a not-so-subtle hint to leave, and they gratefully took the out.

  Matt bid them good-bye at the door. His dad was going to be pissed. His happy little family hadn’t played along with their script. And they certainly hadn’t made any excuses for the drama going down in the study. Matt couldn’t care less.

  He was far too excited about his sisters’ news. He headed back into the kitchen to tell them as much.

  “I’m so proud of you guys getting those scholarships,” he said as he helped load the dishwasher.

  “Thanks,” Hope replied. “Now we just have to pick which one. And deal with dad.” She glanced down the hallway. “Jim Nettles seems really upset.”

  “Yeah,” Matt said, trying not to look worried. Jim had been one of his father’s friends and clients for years. In the past, Matt knew his father had made some bad decisions with Jim’s money, but he usually managed to hide it before the man found out. Apparently, not this time.

  They all turned as they heard Jim storm out the front door, and then a loud slam and crash echoed through the house.

  “Shit.” Matt hurried to his father’s study.

  He pushed inside to see his dad’s desk overturned, papers everywhere. An antique globe was cracked in half on the hardwood floor. His father yanked open the liquor cabinet and poured himself a Scotch into an expensive crystal tumbler.

  “Where are the Reynoldses?” his dad snapped.

  “They left,” Matt replied.

  His dad cursed loudly, then turned on Matt. “You,” he pointed an accusing finger at Matt, “have ruined everything. How dare you talk like that in front of our guests? I was this close—this close—to making a deal with them.”

  “That’s my fault?” Matt said. “I’m not the one who just had one of his clients barge in on Thanksgiving because you lost all his money in some get-rich-quick scheme. Pretty sure that lost you your business with the Reynoldses.”

  “Jim overreacted. He doesn’t understand all the nuances of his portfolio. He asked for riskier investments. I’ll explain that to the Reynoldses.”

  “Really? ‘Overreacted’? How much did you lose him, dad? Fifty thousand? A hundred?” Matt countered.

  “You don’t know shit. I’ll make it back for him. Just need to move some things around.”

  “Did you even invest it?” Matt asked. “Or did you just use it to pay off your debts?”

  “Shut up.” His dad moved toward him. “You’ve never complained about how nice your life was growing up. You had a pretty cushy childhood.”

  “I never cared about any of that. I’m not obsessed with money,” Matt replied. “Not like you.”

  “Only because you’ve always had it! Besides, you love being the golden boy quarterback. You love all that comes with it,” his dad drawled. “It opens a lot of doors for you. How about Ryan’s parents taking you to that nice beach house of theirs last year? Or your girlfriend? I looked into her. She’s loaded. Real catch, that one. It has to be for her money, because you sure don’t seem to like her much.”

  “We’re not together anymore,” Matt said.

  “You stupid idiot,” his dad snarled. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You should’ve worked that better, used her for a while. You disgust me. Get some fucking balls. Man up! Find a rich bitch and marry her.”

  “It’s never gonna fucking happen!” Matt clenched his fists in fury.

  “Why the hell not? You some pansy-assed, limp-dicked fuckup?” his dad shouted.

  “That’s right dad—I’m gay!” Matt heard himself shout back.

  There was an awful, horrible pause as soon as the words left his mouth. And then his father’s face twisted in rage. “You little shit!” His father hurled the crystal tumbler at Matt’s head with all his might.

  Matt dodged the glass, but it shattered against the wall behind him, shards flying at his face. He threw up an arm to protect his eyes, and felt a piece sink into the flesh of his palm, another slash across his forehead. Before he could recover, his dad was on top of him, landing punch after punch. Matt felt his blood dripping down his cheek. He tried to protect his body as best as he could, but he’d inherited his size from his dad and the man was an enraged monster. Adrenaline fueling his violence. Whereas Matt was almost frozen in shock.

  But then Matt’s sisters shrieked, and it spurred him into action. His dad might be huge, but he was still younger and trained every fucking day. He reared up and slammed his fist into his dad’s face.

  He felt his father’s nose break with a sickening snap. And then blood was gushing everywhere.

  The rambunctious sounds of Drew’s four siblings resounded through the tiny Rodriquez house that Trevor loved—cozy, a bit cluttered, and filled with lots of chaos. It was so very different from the one he’d grown up in. Trevor was grateful for the noise to drown out his own thoughts as he helped wash the dishes from their Thanksgiving feast.

  “Dear, you really don’t have to help,” Drew’s mom said again. “My son, who’s spoiled rotten, ought to be helping,” she called out.

  Drew waltzed into the kitchen, his little sister on his back. “You want me distracting the hellions or cleaning?”

  Mrs. Rodriquez smiled and patted him on the cheek. “Both, dear, both. Clone yourself.”

  Trevor smiled. Between Drew’s loud Puerto Rican dad and his mom’s Miami sass, Drew’s family had a weird sense of humor. He loved spending the holidays with them, and since Drew’s dad worked for DuPont, they were only a few hours away from campus. Mrs. Rodriquez always met them with big hugs, fresh-baked cookies, and her boisterous opinions. She went all out on the holidays, leaning into the traditions. Nothing like Trevor’s mother, who’d refused to make a big deal out of the holidays.

  Except Thanksgiving. She’d loved Thanksgiving.

  “What’s got you smiling?” Drew’s mom asked him. He hadn’t exactly been smiling much since his arrival.

  “My mom,” he let slip before he could censor himself.

  “Oh?” she said in a tone that urged him to say more.

  Trevor tried to shrug nonchalantly. “She liked this holiday. My dad always insisted on traditional Korean food, but on this holiday she’d ignore him and go with the American classics.” And she’d always made his favorites. Back when he was her one and only son, her pride and joy.

  �
�Maybe you should call your mom,” she said gently.

  “Don’t listen to her,” Drew shouted from the living room where he was now playing with his brothers and their new Lego set. “She’s a meddler!”

  “I’m a mother,” Mrs. Rodriquez countered, placing her hand on Trevor’s shoulder. “And your mom misses you. I know she does.”

  “Then why hasn’t she called in four years?” Trevor asked bluntly.

  “Fear.” She shrugged. “Maybe she doesn’t know how, maybe she thinks you don’t want to talk to her. Have you ever called them?”

  Trevor shook his head. “No.” And he was proud of that fact. He didn’t owe them anything, not after the way they’d acted. Hell, he hated that he got sentimental on the holidays, that he occasionally missed them. Because he needed to be stronger than that.

  “Okay, toots,” Mrs. Rodriquez said, handing Trevor another dish to dry. “I’m going to give you my advice anyway. Take it or leave it. You look like someone killed your puppy. Drew said you broke up with someone. And I’m sorry. The guy’s an idiot. And, quite frankly, so are your parents. But if you have any doubt, give them a call.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t want you wondering. And that’s what you’re doing. Wondering about them. It’s the holidays. It’s normal. So if you need closure, honey, get it. What’s the worst that could happen?”

  Trevor crossed his arms and arched a brow at her. “They tell me I’m a sinner who’s going to burn in hell and that I’m no son to them.”

  Drew’s mom cringed. “Yikes. Well, at least you wouldn’t be wondering anymore.”

  Trevor gave her a small smile and grabbed the next dish to dry.

  He managed to ignore her advice until it was bedtime. The house was now way too quiet and Drew was taking a shower, which left Trevor alone with his thoughts. And that was a dangerous thing. Maybe Drew’s mom was right. Maybe he did need closure.

  It had taken him a long time to try being with someone, because he hadn’t wanted to open himself up like that again. To trust someone. And then he had, and it had all gone to shit. Trevor had once again not been good enough.

  Trevor flopped back on the bed. Obviously, the breakup with Matt wasn’t the same thing as his falling out with his parents. But he’d felt exposed all over again. He’d felt . . . abandoned. Right when he was starting to rely on the sexy bastard.

  He felt like shit for brushing Matt off like that at the end. But what the hell was he supposed to do? Pine away like an idiot? Let himself get hurt more? It was better to make a clean break of it.

  Or was he letting what’d happened with his parents still dictate his life? Drew seemed convinced that Trevor had some serious baggage that he needed to deal with. Maybe he was right. Maybe Drew and his mom were both right. He needed closure.

  Trevor picked up his cell phone and dialed his parents’ number.

  He almost hung up when he started to feel the doubt and fear and hope building in his gut. It was the hope that worried him most. What if they had wanted to reach out to him but hadn’t known how? What if he’d cut them off when they’d wanted to make amends? Trevor had changed his number; he hadn’t even told them what college he was heading to. But they could have found out, right?

  Trevor braced himself as the call was picked up.

  “Hello?”

  “Mom?” Trevor said, his voice a bit too soft. He waited, hoping, praying.

  Finally, he heard his mother’s sharp voice snap. “Who is this?”

  “Mom.” He cleared his throat. “It’s me, Trevor.” And for one blissful second there was hope, hope that she’d answer back. And then he heard the click as she hung up on him. Not another word. Not even a fucking word. Oh god, that was so much worse than her yelling at him.

  The phone slipped from his fingers and a sob tore out of his body. He let the tears come. Not holding them in any longer. Stupid, big heaving sobs. He’d never felt his loss more acutely. He didn’t have a family. Not anymore. He was alone. All alone.

  At some point, the bedroom door opened, and he heard Drew trying to soothe him, arms hugging him close, but it barely registered. He vaguely noticed Drew grabbing his phone, dialing.

  “Uh, is this Matt’s phone?” Trevor heard Drew’s voice ask as if from a distance. No, no, he shouldn’t be calling Matt. Trevor didn’t even know what they were anymore. He’d ruined it, hadn’t he? It had gotten all so horribly out of control.

  “What?” Drew gasped into the phone. “He’s in the hospital? Is he hurt?”

  And that snapped Trevor out of it. He whipped his head up, yanking the phone from Drew’s hand. “Where’s Matt?” Trevor demanded. “What happened? Who’s this?”

  “I’m Hope, his sister. Who are you?” came the female voice.

  Trevor went brain-dead thinking of an answer, but then he realized he could tell a version of the truth. “I’m his tutor from school. And his friend. Please, is he okay?”

  “Yeah, I mean, sorta. He’s getting stitches,” Hope replied. And then Trevor heard Matt’s voice in the background, demanding his phone, and Trevor went weak with relief at hearing his voice.

  A second later Matt was on the line. “Trevor?”

  “Matt! What happened? Stitches? Are you okay?” Trevor knew he was panicking but damn it, the hospital?

  “My dad . . . he . . . he . . . lost it,” Matt managed to get out. He sounded like Trevor felt. Defeated, lost.

  “He hurt you?” Trevor asked, horrified.

  “Yeah, but not . . . not too bad.”

  “I’m coming to you.” Trevor felt his own pain fading, replaced with a need to protect Matt at all costs. Be there for him. And kick Mr. Lancaster’s fucking ass. “Where are you?”

  “Albertine Hospital.”

  “Okay, I’m coming. You’re only like two hours away.” Yes, he’d already looked up Matt’s hometown on the map like a pining, pathetic lover.

  “You don’t have to,” Matt whispered, his voice breaking. Ah, man, was he crying? The two of them were a sad pair. Why the hell had they landed such crappy parents?

  “Do you want me to come?” Trevor asked, realizing that maybe he’d only be making things worse. Maybe Matt didn’t want him. Maybe he was ashamed of him. He’d almost forgotten for a second they were broken up.

  But then he heard the longing in his man’s voice. “Yes,” Matt said. “Yes, I need you.”

  And Trevor felt a surge of emotion like nothing he’d ever felt. Matt needed him, and there was no way in hell he’d let him down. “I’ll be there soon, baby.”

  He hung up the phone. Drew already had Trevor’s duffel bag open and was stuffing his clothes inside. “Do you want me to come with you?” Drew asked.

  “That might make things even more complicated,” Trevor said, yanking on his shoes. “Do you mind though? Me bailing tonight?”

  “Of course not. If I had the hot quarterback, I’d bail too.”

  Trevor hugged him. “You’re the best, you know that?”

  “Course I do,” Drew sassed back, hugging him close. “And, Trevor, for what it’s worth, your parents may suck, but mine have pretty much adopted you. You’re not alone, okay?”

  Trevor nodded, holding himself together this time. “Okay, good, then you’re stuck with me for Christmas for the rest of your life.”

  “Unless you’re with your boyfriend,” Drew pointed out with a lecherous, teasing lift of his eyebrows.

  “He’s not my boyfriend anymore,” Trevor automatically replied.

  “Yeah, babe,” Drew patted his cheek, “he is.”

  They finished packing him up, and Trevor headed out to the car. Drew had told his mother what was going on, and she’d gotten out of bed to make him a thermos of coffee.

  She handed it to him along with two cinnamon rolls. “Drew’s right,” she said with a big hug. “I am a meddler. Never listen to my advice again. From here on out, your parents are akin to Voldemort.”

  “They who shall not be named!” Drew
tossed Trevor his keys. Trevor had to laugh at their antics.

  Mrs. Rodriquez gave Trevor a dozen kisses good-bye, as if trying to overload him with love. “Now go get your man,” she said with gusto.

  And he was off.

  Matt knew he was dreaming. He could hear Trevor’s voice as if from a great distance, and he smiled, hoping he’d come closer. But someone stopped him. It sounded like a police officer, blocking his path, questioning him. But why would—

  Matt’s eyes snapped open, and he felt a splitting headache as he tried to push past the haze of his pain meds. Fuck, how much time had passed? He remembered the nurse pumping something into his IV as he’d hung up the phone with Trevor.

  His boyfriend. Coming here. To the ER.

  He managed to sit up, wincing at the pain. The noise of the ER didn’t help, but they’d wheeled him into a room rather than just a curtained-off bed. He could see a bit of the hustle and bustle of the ER outside the glass windows.

  And then, as if on cue, his aunt entered, looking flustered and exhausted. “Hon, there’s a boy out here. He says he’s your friend from school,” she said kindly, leaning over him.

  “He doesn’t need any visitors,” his uncle snapped, and Matt could feel the anger coming off him. But at Matt? Or his dad? Or the whole damn situation? “Send him away, Sally.”

  “But he’s come all this way . . .” his aunt replied with hesitation as Matt just sat there dumbly, unsure of what to do, still trying to shake off his brain fog. Damn, what the hell had they given him? It had clearly knocked him out for a while.

  Matt looked over at his uncle, who was scrunched up in a too-tiny chair. The big, burly former football star in his own right. A man who’d voted for Obama the first time, but not the second. Who watched Fox news on occasion and really liked his guns. How would his uncle react to Trevor?

  Then Matt looked at his aunt, his mom’s sister, with her kind eyes that were shadowed with guilt at the moment. Like she should have done more to get them away from their father. But she couldn’t have. Their dad had been too careful . . . up until tonight, when Matt had come out to him. That had finally pushed him over the edge. Filled him with such hate and disgust for his own son.