Down By Contact (Wilmington Breakers Book 1)

by Johnson, Sloan

  Somehow, I managed to waste the entire drive to the restaurant wishing life wasn’t so damn complicated all the time. Nixon was back on his phone in front of the restaurant and I debated sitting in my truck until he finished his call. He glanced up, his eyes filled with sadness for the second it took for him to spot me, and he schooled his features as he waved me over. By the time I locked my truck, his phone was safely tucked back in his pocket.

  “Everything okay?” I asked as we ducked out of the cold wind. He ignored me and asked the hostess to seat us at the back of the dining room. That was pretty typical, but something about Nixon’s demeanor tonight felt off. I shrugged off my worry, telling myself we all had shit we didn’t want spilled all over.

  “So, how are things with you and Griffin?” Nixon asked once we were seated and alone.

  “Fine,” I told him, because I highly doubted he wanted to hear about my moments of insecurity.

  “Don’t bullshit me, kid,” Nixon scoffed. “I’m proud of how hard you’re working, but don’t think I haven’t noticed that you’re spending more and more time in that weight room every week he’s gone.”

  “Not really much for me to go home to right now, I suppose,” I explained. It wasn’t a lie; I hated going home to an empty house. When I’d first moved in, I was looking forward to having a space of my own, but now I saw Griffin’s imprint everywhere. The furniture I’d practically forced him to choose for me when we were still barely back to being friends. Memories of hours spent together watching the sun rise every morning before I left for work. Nights spent curled up on the couch, sometimes talking, sometimes making out.

  “Have you told him how miserable you are when he’s gone, or are you planning on shoving shit down until you burst again?” Nixon was probably the only person other than Nate who could get away with speaking so bluntly about my relationship. We might not be buddies, but he was someone I respected as a mentor, both professionally and personally. I shrugged, because yeah, I had been planning on holding in what Griffin wouldn’t want to hear. “Boy, you might have a degree on the wall, but you’re dumber than a box of rocks. You already fucked up a good thing once by not talking to him and now you’re doing it again. For two people to get through all the shit love can’t fix, you have to be honest with one another. Trust me, it’s the only way.”

  I recognized the heavy set of Nixon’s shoulders. He was carrying the same type of weight I’d walked around with for the years Griffin and I were apart. Maybe he needed to take his own advice.

  * * *

  Nearly two hours and a lot of stilted conversation later, Nixon and I wished one another a Merry Christmas and parted ways. He’d given me a lot to think about when it came to what Griffin deserved from me. I needed to trust my partner with my insecurities so he could guide me through them. He deserved my support in achieving his career aspirations, just as I deserved his support in mine. Both of us needed to stop thinking so damn much about ourselves. But it was the last bit of advice that stuck with me through the entire drive home. “There’s no shame in asking for help,” Nixon told me as we walked to our vehicles. “You might want to think about finding a therapist who can help both of you move beyond your past and figure out how to succeed in the future. Not a friend. Not a teammate or a coach. Not your brother or his partner. You need someone completely unbiased.”

  At first, I’d balked at the thought of sitting on a therapist’s couch, rehashing everything we’d been through. I still didn’t trust easily, and wondered if I’d be able to be open with them knowing there were immoral assholes out there who’d love to sell a story. But once I reminded myself that I was painting everyone in the world with a money-hungry brush, I decided Nixon made a valid point. One I planned to propose to Griffin, because he was worth whatever discomfort I felt at the idea.

  A bright yellow straight truck came into view as soon as I turned the corner onto my street. I pressed the gas pedal a little harder, needing to get into my driveway and up the stairs. Griffin was finally home! A lump formed in my throat when I saw him standing in front of the door with his key in the lock. He turned at the rumble of the truck’s engine, dropped his keys and ran down to meet me. I braced myself to catch him when he launched himself into my arms. The assault on my mouth and neck would’ve freaked me out in the past, but not now. Now, I didn’t give two shits who might see us.

  “Welcome home,” I said, our lips still pressed together. He moaned, grinding his hips against mine. This was quickly going to turn into something I’d never be okay showing the world, so I carried him up the stairs, setting him down when we reached the front door, only because it would be impossible to fish my keys out of my pocket with him attached to me.

  Once inside, I made a beeline for the bedroom. As hot as it’d be to fuck him against the wall, I wanted to take my time reacquainting myself with every inch of his body. We left a trail of clothes from the door to the bedroom and fell into bed, bodies intertwined, connected from lips to legs. Griffin opened to me immediately, passing up the pleasantries in favor of begging me to fuck him. So, that’s exactly what I did. This was the part we’d always been good at, the act we reverted to whenever we weren’t ready to face deep conversations. But unlike in the past, I had faith in us that we’d get there eventually.

  Hours later, following the first two rounds of sex with a nap in between, Griffin rolled to his side, combing his fingers through the fuzz on my chest. “I hope you meant it about wanting me around, because that truck’s packed with all my shit.”

  “Baby, that’s the only thing I truly need,” I promised him, curling up so I could press a kiss to the top of his head. “I know there will be times when you won’t physically be here, but when that happens, knowing this is your home and you’ll be back will help me remember this is real.”

  Griffin propped himself up on an elbow, carding his fingers through the hair I really needed to get in for a cut. My eyes drifted closed and I fought the urge to fall asleep. “What if I was here almost every night? Would you be okay with that?”

  Those questions had me wide awake. I gaped at him, briefly wondering if I was sleeping and this was all a dream. Of course I wanted Griffin in my bed every night, but he’d made it clear he wasn’t going to give up his work to be a stay at home partner. And I’d agreed to it, wasn’t changing my mind even now that I knew how miserable I’d been every night I spent alone. “Of course I’d be okay with it,” I admitted, knowing it was the only right answer. “But will you? I’m not asking you to sacrifice your own dreams for mine. Not now. Not ever.”

  “Shh, I know,” he whispered, bending down to press his lips to mine. “But that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. The job I’ve been trying to get, it’s working for the travel and tourism board. They want to do this huge campaign highlighting different destinations in the state. It’s part of their rebuilding process from the clusterfuck they had last year. Of course, it helped that I have a vested interest in the state now.”

  “You do, huh?” I wrapped my arms around Griffin’s back and pulled him down to me. “And what would that be?” I had to try and deflect with humor, because if I thought too much about Griffin going through all this work to take a job that’d keep us closer together, I was likely to get all emotional.

  Griffin waved his hand dismissively. “Oh, you know, just this guy I hope I’ll get to spend the rest of my life with.”

  “The rest of your life’s a long damn time,” I teased. And damn if that wasn’t exactly what I was hoping for, too. “He must be pretty special.”

  “Quit fishing for compliments and kiss me, you jackass.” I smacked Griffin’s ass and did as he asked. I still planned on suggesting we talk to someone to help us build a solid emotional foundation, but that could wait. Tonight, I wanted to show Griffin what forever was going to look like.

  Coming Soon

  False Start

  Could you come see me when you have a few minutes?

  Teddy was funny if he thought I was s
itting down here twiddling my thumbs. If he’d been anyone else, I’d have been pissed, but I knew the head coach didn’t summon me across the quad to his office unless there was something he wanted to talk about that couldn’t be covered in the weight room. He was a much more frequent visitor to my office than I was to his.

  Be right there, I typed out, cursing at the number of times I had to backspace and re-type. Damn phones weren’t made for guys with meat hooks for hands. “Listen up,” I yelled loud enough to be heard over the blaring rock music. I hated that shit, but the players loved it; if it motivated them to train just a little harder, I could suffer. “Have to head up to Coach’s office. Do your best to not kill yourselves while I’m gone.”

  After pulling one of my assistants to the side to let him know I may or may not be back by the end of today’s training session, I headed up the hill to find Teddy. As much as we liked to give him shit about kicking back in his office waiting for everyone else to do the hard work, he was the type of leader more teams in the league needed. I had a hunch what had prompted him to summon me to his office, and frankly, I was surprised it’d taken this long.

  “Come in,” Teddy called out as I raised my hand to knock on the closed office door. That was unusual. Normally, Teddy’s door was open, both literally and figuratively. Rather than invite me to sit down, Teddy grabbed his keys off the corner of his desk. “Your guys have a handle on things in the training room?”

  “Of course,” I assured him.

  “Good, because I need to get the hell out of here. You up for a late lunch?” I would’ve told him no, but the camera presence from Outside the Pocket had everyone on edge. We were halfway through their filming schedule and the next four weeks could pass quick enough. I followed Teddy out to the parking lot as we discussed where we wanted to eat and hopefully grab a beer.

  We settled into a booth at the back of a local brewpub. While waiting for the server to take our orders, we chatted about how the team was shaping up for the year and who we felt needed to put in a bit of extra effort if they wanted to make it past the first round of cuts in just over a week. For the most part, we were on the same page. Not surprising, since we had years of working together and I knew who to push harder before Teddy gave me his list. Some would say that was a result of me having no life, but they were wrong about that. I had a damn good life, one I’d happily devoted to the game I’d once upon a time hoped to play. Unfortunately, when the doctors start throwing around words like “potential for paralysis” following a rough game, those dreams fizzled fast.

  “What are your thoughts on Kendricks?” Coach asked once both of us had a pint in front of us. I considered his question for a moment, because there was no doubt in my mind he was in for a banner year. He’d shaved a few hundredths of a second off his forty and his hands were quicker than I’d ever seen. It was like they were coated in some sort of substance, drawing in the football and holding it tight no matter what or who flew at him. But Teddy wasn’t asking about his physical strength, not really.

  “He’ll be fine,” I tried to reassure Coach. The truth was, I was nervous about his stability, only because I knew what it was like to bottle up emotions and box them away. Hell, over the years, I’d become the master of it. “He’s the first in the training room every morning, even beating the rookies. I think it’s starting to piss them off. They don’t realize he has as much, if not more, to prove to everyone this year.”

  Teddy’s eyebrows drew tight and he frowned as he sipped his beer. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

  I cocked my head to the side, trying to figure out what he was thinking. Okay, so maybe Zach was overdoing it a bit, but that’s why I was keeping a close eye on him. If I thought he was risking injury, I’d kick his ass out of the weight room and insist he take some time off.

  “Oh, come on. You’re a smart guy,” Teddy scolded when I was slow on the uptake. “He’s physically exhausting himself because that’s easier than thinking about the off-field drama that’s heading his way. I fucking hate that there’s nothing we can do to keep this under wraps a while longer. I talked to the league, and they’re pissed off too, trying to claim we knew about this and didn’t say anything sooner. I’m worried that if we can’t find a way to slow him down, he’s going to burn out.”

  “Not really sure what you want me to do about that.” I wasn’t a touchy feely guy. Never had been, didn’t see a reason to change it now. I was the king of compartmentalization. When I was at work, the only thing I focused on was work. When I was home— okay, so when I was at home, I was still thinking about work, because I’d done a spectacular job of closing the box that stored my personal life, to the point it didn’t exist. Still, in the twenty years I’d worked my way up through the training staff, I’d never been the guy players came to about their home lives. They knew my response would be to tell them to do exactly what Zach was; get their asses back out on the floor and grind out another set.

  As soon as Teddy let out a sigh, I knew the conversation was about to take a bad turn. I’d heard that sound from him before, typically when he was resigned to doing something he’d rather not. “I need you to talk to Lincoln Sims before his seminar.”

  Shit. He could’ve asked me to do just about anything and I’d have happily done it. Zach was a good kid with a brilliant career in front of him, but this year it all hinged on how a show we had no control over decided to out him. If I could get my hands on that weasly little produced, I’d wrap them around his neck until he started to turn blue. He has some nerve, thinking their plan to create a compelling storyline out of a player’s private life was acceptable in any way. But now, Teddy was asking me to reach out to a man I’d been hoping to avoid while he was in town. Being in the same room as Lincoln Sims was a threat to those carefully sealed and stacked boxes known as my life.

  “Look, I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but you need to set that shit aside right now,” Teddy continued before I could object. “It won’t seem out of line for him to talk to Zach. Hell, the entire reason he’s coming in is to talk to these kids about finding a balance in their lives, which is something Zach’s sorely missing. But for that to happen, he needs to know what’s going on, and you’re the one who should tell him.”

  Nothing had happened between us, and maybe that was the problem. Linc and I grew close when I was part of the training staff for [team]. Doing anything would’ve been highly inappropriate. Then I was offered the assistant strength and conditioning coach position in Wilmington and he was still halfway across the country. We kept in touch, even pondering what our lives could’ve been like if not for football after too many drinks at an awards ceremony, but eventually, we drifted apart. That didn’t mean my dick didn’t perk right up when I saw him or heard his voice, it simply meant I steered clear rather than face all the reasons our friendship had fallen apart.

  “Why me? Why can’t you and Linc sit down and chat about your concerns?” It seemed better if the head coach was the one trying to convince a former player to pry into a current player’s life.

  “Because the two of you know one another,” Teddy explained. “Trust me, something like this will be much easier coming from you. You’ll be able to temper your words in case he’s not as accepting as he seems.”

  “Oh, that won’t be a problem.” I offered the waitress a weak smile when she brought back our meals. Burgers and a mountain of fries. Everything the players would kill to get their hands on right about now.

  “Glad to hear it.” He smiled and it took me a moment to realize he’d mistaken my quip about Linc not having an issue with Zach being gay as my agreement to talk to him about it. “If you don’t have a current number for him, let me know and I’ll get it to you. It’d probably be easiest if he knows what he’s walking into. After all, none of us planned on the clusterfuck this show is turning into. I just want to whip these guys into shape so we don’t wind up at the bottom of the standings this year and now I’m stuck playing mediator and thera
pist.”

  “Yeah, well, we all have to do our part,” I grumbled, shoving a fistful of fries into my mouth to shut me up before I told Teddy how half-cocked his plan was. Zach was going to be pissed at me for sharing his private business, which he rightfully should be. It wasn’t my place to step in without him asking for help, but Teddy was right; we had a job to do and we needed to get ahead of the chaos if we had any hope of keeping our players focused on the job. Lincoln was going to be irritated, because he’d feel cornered into opening up about his own past and why perception and reality were two very different things. No way was this going to go off the way Teddy saw it in his mind. But the longer I thought about it, the more I realized it was the best plan. Teddy might have asked because he wanted Zach to find balance in his life, but Lincoln was one of the few men who knew what Zach was going through. He knew the weight of carrying around a secret and pretending to be someone you’re not in the public eye. Maybe, just maybe, Zach could learn from Lincoln’s mistakes without dragging other people down with him. “Fine. Yeah, I’ll talk to him.”

  “Great!” Teddy tucked into his food while I pushed mine to the center of the table. My stomach twisted, wondering why I was willing to torture myself to help Zach salvage his career before destroying his body.

  ##

  By the next morning, I’d made exactly zero progress on my promises to Teddy. I hadn’t called Lincoln and Zach had been waiting for me to unlock the weight room when I got in this morning. Teddy wanted me to send him back to the dorms for a bit, tell him to give his body a rest, but instead, I’d ushered him in and shook my head while he jumped onto the treadmill. As I’d tossed and turned my way through the night, I told myself all Zach needed was a friendly nudge to talk and then I wouldn’t need Lincoln’s help. Yeah, maybe that was the answer.