Kyle should have known his premonitions were right, though. Because as the idyllic days passed, broken only by the nervousness of actually playing a final, he became almost complacent, almost too confident in them. He forgot that things could go wrong, forgot how bad losing such a major tournament could be.
Until the day of the Championship final. That was the day it all fell apart.
Part 3
The Winning Goal
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Morning after the Championship Final
Kyle woke up crying.
His eyes shot open and he felt awake immediately, suddenly. His chest ached so much he felt like he couldn’t breathe. Rolling onto his side, he realized tears were sliding down his face, falling gently into his hair. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe, tried to calm himself down.
But the pain was like a ball lodged just below his breastbone, aching and unrelenting. For a moment, he gave in to it, let the tears fall, let the pain swim through his head, let it overwhelm him.
He’d gone through the World Cup. And nothing could be worse than that. Nothing would compare. Was this much better, though?
It wasn’t, not really. Two losses in a single year. It was baffling, something akin to torture. It was nothing short of agony, and in the next moment he felt overwhelmingly tired again. He wanted nothing more than to escape, to give it up, to stop playing for the team and the jersey that only seemed to mock him.
He rolled over, looking at Cade’s bed. It was still dark, but his eyes were adjusted to the dim light. No one was there. Cade was probably in the bathroom, wallowing. He seemed to be both broken and stronger by losses; torn apart, yet always holding himself together, brittle and shattered, damaged but not destroyed.
As Kyle’s his eyes swept the room, still blurry from the tears, he realized something was off. For a second, he puzzled it out, until he noticed Cade’s suitcase was missing. A bolt of horror shot through him. The shock eased the ache in his chest and he shot upright, staring at the empty space where the suitcase had rested. Full of dread, he groped for his phone on the nightstand. He scrolled madly through the missed calls and texts looking for one name.
Coming up empty, frustrated, panic mounting, he scrolled through the notifications again, stopping at a text from Mason, alarm bells ringing. Mason never texted. Opening the message with shaking hands, he read:
Kyle, Cade left. I think he didn’t tell anyone. But I think you should know he wasn’t himself. I think you should know he didn’t mean any harm.
The tension and worry inside him ruptured, and something broke inside him. He lay back down, tossing the phone away, ignoring its incessant chirping as hundreds of texts flooded in. The tears dried up immediately. His head felt as if it was stuffed with cotton, thick and woozy and numb. He felt empty and drained.
He stared at the ceiling, eyes red and dry, mind empty.
Later, he would remember it as one of the worst days of his life.
***
For the first few days after getting home, Kyle checked his phone compulsively. He couldn’t help himself. He had set the ringer at the highest volume, chosen the most annoyingly loud ringtone he could find, but he still reached for his phone every few minutes, checking to see if he’d missed something. His heart always leapt out of his chest before falling hard in disappointment at the wrong person on his caller ID. Cade’s name was never there.
Kyle was swimming in grief at the loss, feeling as if everything had grinded to a halt in its wake. The days went by achingly slow, and it was agonizing. It was almost as if Kyle’s grief was a black hole that absorbed everything. He was numb.
He didn’t turn on the news and avoided the internet, but little snippets of gossip reached him anyway. Little indications of what was going on. It started as a whisper - Grayson failed again - then grew to loud, terrifying roars filled with hate and maliciousness. Kyle felt weak.
No one else was publically blamed except Cade. He was torn apart so brutally Kyle felt nauseated by it. He didn’t know the full extent because of the wall of support around him, but he could imagine. Once, he even had a small flash of gratitude that it wasn’t himself on the chopping block, but the guilt of such a thought overwhelmed him. He gagged, rushing to the bathroom and vomiting.
And through it all, another thought kept pulsing at him: Cade didn’t call.
At first, he couldn’t believe Cade wouldn’t at least send him a text. Kyle tried calling and texting him, but his phone was always switched off and his assistant picked up the home line, always saying bluntly that Cade wasn’t accepting any calls.
After a few days, Kyle’s father casually mentioned that Cade was on vacation in the Caribbean. It made Kyle more upset than ever. The fact that Cade would escape like that and not send one text hit him hard. Once, in the middle of the night, he gave in and stalked Cade on Instagram. Faced with hundreds of new selfies of Cade with devoted fans, Kyle turned off his phone, tossing it across the room.
It was a turning point. After that, Kyle was just angry. He was angry about everything. He snapped at everyone, screamed at his assistant to the point where she burst into tears. His father tried to talk to him about it, but it ended up being a one-sided yelling match with Kyle stalking out of the room, his father shell-shocked.
Kyle went back to his own place after that, deciding to stop camping out at his parents’. The house was so empty at first, so lonely, he wondered if he’d made the right decision. But after a while, the solitude descended on him like a blanket, and it was almost soothing.
He checked his phone less and less. Eventually he put it away completely and binged on crappy TV serials. His anger cooled, but there was something else taking its space. It felt like bitterness and icy self-protection. His feelings for Cade were becoming complicated. The one thing that had been so solid for years had become twisted into something ugly.
But Kyle didn’t shed one tear about it. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.
***
One day, three seasons deep into Battlestar Galactica, Kyle’s phone chirped. His eyes were glued to the TV and he picked it up absently.
He froze. Cade was there at the top of his inbox. Kyle could see the beginning of the text: hey kyle i just…
Without thinking, without even opening the text, he deleted it. Hand trembling, he put his phone away, looking blindly back at the TV, heart pounding.
It was a long time before he stopped shaking. It was the first time he’d rejected Cade, albeit in the mildest way possible. Somehow, he didn’t regret it. It may have been silly and childish and exactly the wrong way for a grown man to handle it, but he was tired.
He’d been in love with Cade for so fucking long. For years. He’d pined and longed for him, watched him date other people, watched him become a star before the whole world and never, never been able to be by his side as anything more than Kyle, his biggest fan.
And finally, over the last few weeks, he’d started to believe. Started to believe that there was the possibility of more. But again, Cade had let him down. Again, he’d fallen for exactly the wrong thing.
If Cade had just left him one text, not even right away, not even within the first week after the Championship final, but if he’d contacted Kyle once during the following two weeks, Kyle would have been able to forgive him. Kyle would have gone back crawling on his hands and knees for the man he loved.
But two weeks. Two weeks without even bothering to see how Kyle was doing? Not even bothering to tell his assistant to pass on a message. Kyle had reached out so many times. It was too much. He didn’t deserve to be treated this way.
After all, if Cade could stay away so easily, then it wouldn’t be hard for him to just stay away for good.
***
chapter fifteen
It was a few hours before Cade tried again. Kyle didn’t open those messages either, deleting them immediately with a satisfied smile. It was flattering that Cade was trying again, but Kyle didn’t want
to talk to him right now. Maybe ever. He needed time.
Then Cade started calling. He called four times over the next day, leaving increasingly concerned voicemails. Kyle listened to them because he couldn’t help it. Cade’s soft, seductive accent, the way his syllables melted into a smooth timbre too tempting to ignore - it was almost enough to break him.
The messages began to replay, and his finger hovered over the delete button, but he didn’t press it. All his concentration centered around the few millimeters of air between his thumb and the command that would erase Cade’s voice from his ears. All the sounds around him fell away, and his pulse pounded in his ears.
Kyle was snatched back to reality by a booming knock on the front door. He let the phone fall on his chest, and he stared at the ceiling. The knock came again, stronger. He sighed, and struggled to lift himself up. This time the knock was almost pounding.
“I’m coming!” Kyle snapped. “Jeez. There’s a fucking doorbell anyway…”
He pulled open the door, rubbing his eyes at the bright light that poured in.
There was Cade, smiling shyly, looking fresh, red, and so good.
For a second, Kyle felt a huge wave of relief, affection, and lust. His heart melted a bit at Kyle’s ongoing inability to properly apply sunscreen. Then he remembered, he remembered it all, and his knuckles grew white as he gripped the edge of the door.
“What’re you doing here?” he spat.
Cade’s eyes were careful, watchful. He didn’t seem surprised by Kyle’s reaction, as if he was anticipating it. Bitterly, Kyle thought that he probably knew full well how he felt and, apparently, didn’t care.
“Can I come in?” Cade’s voice was soft and kind. Kyle felt his insides twist. They stood there, fixed, eyes locked, for what seemed like too long, but neither moved. Kyle’s eyes narrowed. He lowered his head and moved aside as Cade stepped over the threshold. Their shoulders brushed, and Cade’s spicy, intoxicating smell overwhelmed Kyle’s senses. He winced, as if taking a blow to his stomach.
The Championship final flashed through his mind as he glanced at the back of Cade’s head. He remembered him sitting on the field, legs drawn up, an elbow draped over his knees, staring mindlessly forward. He remembered not being able to do anything to stop it, not being able to stop Cade crying on the bus ride home.
He’d only seen Cade cry once or twice. Even in grief, Cade held things together. Tears would stream down his face, but he’d make no sound, no move. He was so tightly restrained, Kyle wondered what it must feel like inside his heart.
He was wearing ripped jeans and a tight black T-shirt. He looked lean and... incredible. He’d stopped shaving and the scruff made him look more distinguished and youthful. All the emotions pulsing through Kyle funneled into a wave of sadness as he followed Cade, silently, to the kitchen. For as far as back as Kyle could remember, Cade’s first stop in his house had always been the fridge. He’d open it and start munching on anything he could find. It was a joke at first, and later, an essential ritual.
But now the familiar routine felt alien. Kyle didn’t want to look at Cade and remember the final game. He didn’t want to be reminded of Cade not wanting to talk to him. He didn’t want to remember how happy they had been in the days leading up to the championship, kissing and touching and acting like… like they were in love.
The word jarred Kyle’s brain and he gritted his teeth, trying to fight the humiliation rising in his chest. He forced himself to meet Cade’s eyes. His gaze was shuttered, and he looked more exhausted than Kyle had noticed just moments before.
“Hey,” Cade said. “You didn’t reply to my texts.”
Kyle tried to keep his voice light. “You didn’t reply to mine either.”
Cade took a deep breath. He sat on one of the kitchen stools, looking at Kyle standing opposite. “I’m sorry. I went crazy, I lost my mind. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I felt alone.”
“You didn’t text or call for two weeks, Cade! You took selfies with a hundred different fans-”
“-more than a hundred,” Cade interjected wryly.
Kyle continued as if he didn’t hear. “-and you couldn’t once say 'Hi, Kyle, I need some time'?”
“I fucked up, Kyle. I felt like all of you blamed me-”
“You thought I blamed you!? Are you out of your fucking mind!?”
Cade’s hands were shaking a little now. “Well, let me tell you what it’s like, okay? All I heard was winwinwin everywhere. People were expecting me to do incredible super-human things that I just… I just...” He stopped mid-sentence, as if he’d run out of steam. “Yeah.” His shoulders fell.
Kyle felt tired. “I know you’ve gone through a lot, Cade. But we weren’t just friends anymore. We were more than that. You should have-”
“Were?”
Kyle stopped, confused. Cade’s eyes were wide and wild. “What?”
“You said we were more than just friends. What do you mean were?” Cade’s words were so carefully articulated, so restrained that Kyle knew he was getting agitated.
Kyle opened his mouth and closed it. He looked at Cade.
Cade stood up so suddenly, knocking his chair over in the process, that Kyle flinched. “Are you breaking up with me?” Cade’s eyes were raw and suddenly Kyle felt guilt overwhelm him.
But he remembered those weeks alone, wondering what was happening.He was right to do this. Cade had gone through a tough time, but he should have reached out. Kyle knew he deserved that. He wouldn’t have been that cruel to Cade if the roles were reversed.
He met Cade’s eyes dead on, unflinchingly. “Yes.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Kyle couldn’t stop staring at Cade’s fists. They were balled so tightly by his sides, the knuckles were stark white against his sunburn. He focused on his hands because the silence was deafening, painful, and overwhelming. He wanted to speak first, and the old Kyle would have. The old Kyle would have felt the need to placate Cade, the need to make him happy. The old Kyle always put Cade first.
Something had changed in him. He was acutely aware that Cade could hurt him, could hurt him with something worse than rejection and betrayal. He could hurt him with neglect.
It had never occurred to him that being ignored was far worse than being rejected. Rejection was a humiliation, but it didn’t feel as personal as being left behind. It had shocked him how much he had trusted Cade, and how easily it had broken, all in a few days.
“Why?” Cade’s voice was coarse, nothing like his usual soft slurry tones.
“Because I don’t trust you.”
It slipped out. He hadn’t meant to say that. He regretted it immediately. It was probably the worst thing he could say to Cade, the biggest insult. It was a slur not only on their romantic relationship, but their platonic one.
The thought rose that most likely their friendship was over, but he stuffed it down, knowing it would cause him hysteria and panic. Cade’s face was so stunned, so full of hurt, Kyle looked away. He felt guilt blind him for a second.
“What? Why?”
“Because it’s not enough that you’re around for the good stuff. What if something else bad happens and you go missing again? I don’t deserve that.” Kyle’s voice was soft, heavy, and sad.
“Kyle, I made a mistake-”
“That’s probably true,” Kyle interrupted quietly. “But I deserve better.”
Cade fell silent. He was staring at Kyle, eyes wide, as if unable to believe that Kyle could walk away so easily, could end it so abruptly. “So you won’t give me a second chance? How could you punish me for my first mistake?” For the first time, Cade’s voice was rising, a note of hysteria coloring his words.
It made Kyle miserable. “Look, Cade, everyone deserves second chances. But something in me feels different.”
Cade moved quickly to come stand right in front of Kyle. He reached for him, but Kyle flinched in response and Cade froze. He swallowed hard, dropping his hand. “What do you mean? You don’t love
me anymore?” Cade’s voice was low, almost broken.
“I still love you. I don’t think I can ever stop,” Kyle laughed bitterly, watching relief ease Cade’s features. “But it doesn’t feel the same. I don’t trust you.”
“Because I didn’t text you for two weeks?”
Kyle felt angry suddenly. Cade was making him sound like an overly emotional toddler. And, damn it, Kyle was entitled to how he was feeling. “You don’t get it, do you? I don’t trust you to not hurt me,” he snapped, finally fed up.
That was a blow. Kyle could see Cade mentally reeling a little. He was quiet for a second, eyes searching Kyle’s face. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Kyle.” Cade took a deep breath. “What I did was wrong, unforgivable. But I was so- I felt that everyone must have hated me. I know that makes no sense, but that’s how I felt.”
“I don’t believe you,” Kyle said flatly.
Cade stared. “What?”
“I don’t believe you thought I hated you. There’s no way I believe that.”
Cade looked away. “I- I knew you didn’t hate me, but-”
Kyle laughed loudly, mirthlessly. “Lying to me now, huh?”
“Don’t be cruel, Kyle,” Cade said through gritted teeth. His cheeks were flushed.
Kyle turned away suddenly, rubbing his forehead. Cade was right. Kyle had never been a bitter person and he didn’t need to start now. “Let’s go sit down. We can’t stand here all day.”
He led the way out of the kitchen. The soft squish of Cade’s sneakers on the hardwood floor echoed in his ears. He waited for Cade to sit in a plush armchair before choosing a seat far enough away on the couch to give himself a little bit of breathing space.
They were silent for a little while, Kyle avoiding Cade’s gaze. Finally Cade leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “I knew you didn’t hate me, but I was ashamed to face you.”
Kyle’s eyes snapped up at that. “What do you mean?” he asked, furrowing his brow.
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