by Eden Finley
Noah laughs. “Could work.”
With a deep breath, I get Bo’s number from the piece of paper Jethro gave me before going to bed. I have no idea what I’m going to say if he answers, so I’ll just wing it.
“Can you stop pacing,” Noah asks from the couch. “I’m getting dizzy just watching you.”
“No.”
“No what?” a guy’s voice says through the phone.
I finally stop pacing and can’t for the life of me say hello like a normal person. “Can I talk to Char?”
“Who the fuck’s calling my girl?”
I clear my throat and try not to judge Char’s choice in men. “Her brother.”
There’s a scuffling noise, and I let out a breath of relief when Char’s voice comes on the line.
“Jet?”
“It’s Matt, actually.”
There’s a long silence where I start pacing again.
“Ah. Mr. Bigshot finally pulled his head outta his ass.”
“That’s not fair. I had no way of contacting you. The only reason I do now is because of Jethro.”
“Is Jet okay?”
“He’s fine, he’s stayin’ with me, but he told me some things I had no idea about. First, you’re pregnant?”
She swears under her breath. “I told him not to tell you if he found you.”
“Why? I’m gonna be an uncle. That’s pretty cool.”
“No, you’re not.” Her voice is quiet, and my stomach sinks.
“Oh.” Guess when it comes to taking sides, Char is firmly on team homophobe.
“Wait, no. Not because you’re gay. I couldn’t care less about that, but it’s not like you’re ever comin’ home, are ya? Mom and Dad won’t let you. Or Jet.”
“About that … Char, I …” Shit, why is this so hard? “I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you. Financially or otherwise.”
“It’s not your job.”
“I know, but I wanted to help. I’ve been helping. Or, I thought I was.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I’ve been sendin’ money to Mom and Dad for four years, and they were supposed to split it between y’all. Jethro tells me they kept it.”
“Asshats,” she hisses. “I asked them to help out with the baby, and they said they’re broke.”
“I’m gonna fix this,” I say. “I promise.”
“Really?” The tears are evident in the way her voice cracks.
“I don’t know how yet, but I’m gonna fix it.”
Aww, now she’s bawling.
“What’s wrong, doll?” I ask.
She sniffs. “I … I’ve been freaking out about having this baby. We live in a trailer, we got no money, and—”
“I’m gonna help. I, uh, don’t have a contract right now, but I’m selling my apartment, and I have some money tied up in stocks and shit. I’ll find a way.”
“Thank you,” she whispers.
“Can I contact you on this number again?”
“I’ll program it back into my phone and text you. No joke, they canceled my phone without tellin’ me, and wouldn’t give me a new one until I deleted you and Jet from my contacts in fronta them.”
“Maybe put it under a different name, in case they check up on you.”
“Sure thing, new best friend, Miriam.” She giggles.
“Works for me.”
“I should go, but Matt?”
“Yeah?”
“I miss you. Give my love to Jet.”
“I’d say give my love to the others, but they might let it slip that you’re in contact with me.”
“I’ll make sure they know their older brothers love them.”
“I’ll make sure y’all are taken care of.” Somehow. It’s a big promise, and if one thing my meetings with my finance guys has taught me, it’s that I can’t afford to throw my money around. Not if football is no longer an option. The Warriors’ contract won’t help matters.
When I end the call, Noah beckons me over to him. “That sounded like it went well.”
I nod. “Better than I expected.”
“Well, I don’t know too many people who’d be pissed at a handout.”
He pulls me down on the couch so my head’s in his lap. His fingers move through my hair, and I close my eyes, loving the feel of his hands on me. The events of today are pushed downfield. Hell, I don’t even think they’re in the same stadium right now.
“Okay, so now that’s done, tell me what you’re really thinking about the offer from Chicago,” Noah asks.
My eyes fly open to find Noah’s piercing blue-green orbs staring down at me.
“I don’t want to think about it. I need to map it out when I’m thinking clearer. Right now, I’m still pissed.”
“What are the pros and cons?”
“Ugh. You’re not gonna make me do a list, are you? You don’t seem like a list type of guy.”
“I’ll hide my legal pad from you, but saying it out loud might help.” His hand freezes in my hair, and I rub my head over his lap like a cat to get him to keep going. “I’ll keep giving you a head massage if you do the list.”
So not going to pass up that offer. His hands are amazing. “The pros are easy. It’s a promising team, I get to play football again, and it’s Chicago. Being out there will be easier than somewhere God-loving like the Bible Belt.”
“Cons,” Noah says.
“Accepting that contract is like admitting I deserve less than everyone else because I’m gay. If I take it—”
“It doesn’t mean you agree with it. It means you’ve been dealt a shitty hand, and you don’t have much choice. Being forced to retire is just as bad as saying you deserve less. Retirement says you shouldn’t be playing the sport at all.”
“You think I should take it.”
Noah doesn’t answer right away, as if he’s contemplating telling me the truth or a lie. “What are the other cons? The money?”
“If I don’t take the contract, I get no income other than what my investments give me. And then I’d have to work out what I want to do with my life. So, the money isn’t the issue. Fuck, I might have to be a college student with my brother. I don’t like the sound of that.”
Noah laughs. “I’m sorry, but no matter how hard you try, that kid is not going to college. He doesn’t want it, even if you’re offering to pay for it. You shouldn’t push him.”
Noah’s been great with Jet, welcoming him into his home like it’s no big deal. Those two clicked instantaneously, unlike Noah and me when we met.
“He should have a backup,” I say.
Noah coughs in between saying “Contradictive.”
“I know I don’t have a backup, and that’s my point. I never had the option to have one. Finishing college before being drafted was never going to happen. I had a family back home I had to support.”
The hand stroking my hair stops again. “About that. While you were in your meeting, Jet told me what it was like growing up with your parents.”
I try not to tense, but I know I fail when Noah starts massaging me again. “There’s a lot of kids who have it worse,” I say.
“They’re verbally abusive, you had to share a closet-sized room with the two other boys, and from what I understand, the word faggot flies out of your dad’s mouth every other sentence. And now you’re paying them for treating you that way.”
“I can’t stop sending them money.”
“Yes, you can. You were drafted when you were nineteen. You said you’ve been paying them eight thousand a month?”
I nod. “Supposed to be four thousand for them and four divided by the five kids.”
“That’s almost four hundred thousand dollars since you left home.”
“Ooh, someone can do math.”
Noah’s fingers jab into my ribs.
I flinch. “Motherfucker.”
“Two hundred thousand dollars divided by five siblings is forty thousand each. Nice college fund. A down payment on an apartment for C
har …”
Anger coils in my stomach. “I get it, okay? But we’re not like your family. We don’t make threats of cutting people off to get our way.”
“It’s not about getting your way,” Noah says. “They’re walking all over you after treating you like shit your whole life. You don’t owe them anything.”
“I owe my siblings. Jet’s right when he said I left them behind to fend for themselves with our parents. But how can I fix it? If I stop sending my parents money, the kids get nothing.”
“They’re getting nothing now. Jet said your parents are spending every day at the track. Your parents cut you off, but you’re unwilling to do the same to them when they’re wasting their money. What if you set up trusts for the kids, and now you’re in contact with Char, you can send her money directly? Then, if you really want to keep sending your parents money, tell them they have to deal with half of the income they usually get—which, by the way, is still a lot of money for people who live in the sticks and don’t have jobs.”
“How would you know what’s a lot of money to people like us?”
“Median household income in Tennessee is forty-seven thousand a year. You’re currently giving your family twice that.”
“How do you—”
“I’m a strategist for my dad who’s going to be running for president in two years. I know the stats of most states. Contrary to how I act, I am good at my job … when I actually turn up for it.”
“Impressive.”
“It’s your money, but I hate that your family is taking advantage of you.”
I run my hand up Noah’s arm. “I’ll look into the trust thing.” If I go with his idea, I won’t have to worry about coming up with more money. I wish I could somehow give lump sums to the kids after finding out Mom and Dad gambled their share away, but with an uncertain future, I don’t have the ability to do that.
Noah stares at me—those blue-green eyes assessing me—and I can practically hear what he’s thinking. He’s wondering if I’ll really go through with it.
“I promise.” I rub my head against his lap again because the man gives a mean massage.
“Can we please go to bed now?” Noah asks. “Your head’s been rubbing all over my cock for the last ten minutes, and I want to explode.”
“I’m allowed to stay in your bed again?” I ask.
“Only if you fuck me in it first.”
The last two nights, I waited for Noah to kick me out and have been surprised when I’ve woken up next to him. I haven’t slept this good since I can’t remember when, and I’ve never hated training as much as I do right now. I’ve skipped the last two days which means I have no excuse tomorrow, but peeling myself away from Noah will be hard.
I climb off him and hold out my hand for him. “You know what else is good about the Chicago offer?”
He drags me to the stairs. “Moving bridges?”
“I was thinking that it’s a two-hour flight from New York.”
Noah stops in the middle of a step. I’m about to backpedal, because I’ve clearly crossed a line we aren’t supposed to, and I get it. Even if it stings.
Instead of chewing me out for even remotely suggesting there was some sort of future for us, Noah smiles. “I’ll keep that in mind. If I ever get desperate enough.”
I chuckle. “Wow. Maybe I won’t fuck you tonight, because clearly two days of sex is enough to make you forget how long and agonizing the last two weeks were without me. You didn’t even make it the full two weeks.”
“Oh, game on. I could so last longer than you without sex.”
“You’re forgetting that I went twenty-three years without it. Won’t be hard to go back.”
“Are you sure about that?” Noah looks at me expectantly, and I know I’ll probably be the one to cave. I can’t get enough of the guy in front of me.
I step onto the stair below his, which makes him a tiny bit taller than me. Slowly, I start moving in as if I’m going to kiss him. His eyelids become hooded, his lips part, and then at the very last second, I pull away and march past him. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure.”
I can’t stop the laugh as Noah mutters “Asshole” and trudges up the stairs behind me.
Chapter Sixteen
Noah
I follow my nose to the kitchen and stop short at Jet bouncing around. The kid reminds me of a hyperactive poodle. But in a good way.
“Where’s Matt?” I ask.
“Where do you think?”
Ah, right. “Basement for his morning workout.” I’m usually not awake for it, but the smell of food roused me from sleep.
“Yep. Breakfast will be ready in ten if you want to go get him.”
“You can cook?”
“No. I’m just makin’ a mess in here for funsies.”
I shouldn’t laugh, but I do.
“After Matt left, Charlene was the one who cooked for us. Then she left, but at least she was still close by and I could ask her for pointers.”
The way he says that type of shit so casually—as if it’s normal for the eldest at home to parent the younger kids—pisses me off. “Another dumb question here. Why don’t your parents cook?”
Jet shrugs and goes back to preparing what smells like bacon and something sweet. “They’re never home. And the kids are old enough now to fend for themselves. They’re not missing my cooking.”
“It smells good.”
“Don’t get too excited. It’s plain ol’ bacon and egg crêpes with maple syrup. Hope you’re not a vegetarian.”
“I can handle a lot of meat in my mouth.”
Jet laughs.
“Totally didn’t mean that to sound as dirty as it did. This sure beats the breakfast of champions we’ve been having.” Blowjob with a side of coffee.
“From the takeout menus I’ve seen, breakfast isn’t the only thing you’ve been lazy with.”
“It’s New York. You can pretty much get whatever you want delivered, but Matt’s is always the same.”
Jet smiles at me and together we say, “Steamed brown rice and chicken.”
“God, I remember when he used to feed us that crap at home when he was in training.” Jet shudders. The reminder that Matt has stayed in training mode this whole time reminds me he’s nowhere near ready to give up on football.
The dreaded realization that Matt is going to leave me makes the walls around my heart begin to close up. They’ve crumbled these last few weeks, but I can’t let them fall completely. I don’t know if I could survive it.
“He’s going to accept the Chicago offer, isn’t he?” My voice comes out as a low murmur.
“Matt is football. Always has been. If it’s his only chance to play, he’ll do it.” Jet eyes me over his shoulder. “You gonna move to Chicago with him if he goes?”
My heart thuds in my chest, and I don’t know how much to tell Jet of the arrangement between Matt and me. “Nah. We both know we’re temporary. He’s …” Too good for me. Despite my father’s opinions of it being the other way around, it’s true; Matt is too good for me. My father sees our money as a status. I see it as a curse—a reason to stay guarded so I don’t end up blindsided again. I can’t let myself get in too deep, because Matt’s leaving. If it’s not Chicago, it’ll be another town.
“He’s what?” Matt asks from behind me.
“He’s a nosy fuck,” I say and fake a smile as I turn to face him.
He doesn’t smile back. He’s covered in sweat, he’s shirtless, and damn, sweats were a bad idea to dress in this morning. Can’t hide anything in these pants.
“Tell me what you were going to say,” Matt says.
I tell myself to spit out an ugly truth. “You’ve got football to focus on, and we said from the start this wasn’t going anywhere.” I glance back at Jet who’s pretending he’s not listening.
“Right. Okay.” Matt still breathes heavy from his workout. “I’m gonna go shower.”
When I drag my eyes off Matt’s retreating ass, they meet Jet’s sc
owl.
“Brutal, man,” he says.
“Nah, Matt can handle it. He knew the deal going in.”
Jet scoffs. “Never thought I’d see the day I was smarter than my big brother.”
“Stay out of shit you don’t understand, junior.”
Now I’m entertaining to him. Great.
We have a deal. Neither of us are going to break it.
“I’m not going to piss off the guy who’s giving me a free bed, so this is me not telling you that if you break Matt’s heart—”
“What? You’ll break my face? You’re half my size, squirt.”
“I was gonna say if you break his heart, you’re an idiot because you ain’t gonna find better than my brother. He practically raised me. So, if you hurt him, you’re a fuckin’ dick.”
I can’t help laughing. “I’m glad you held back.”
“That’s funny to you?”
“Yeah, it is.” Because I think I’m losing my head. Matt’s getting under my skin, and I’m not sure I like it. My usual reaction to being called a dick is along the lines of duh. But when it comes to Matt, the last thing I want to do is hurt him. He’s been through enough.
Jet continues to glare at me, waiting for me to defend myself. Newsflash, kid. I’m not that type of guy.
“If you’re going to be an ass, can you at least help me serve breakfast?” he asks.
“Sure.”
When Matt comes back, he doesn’t even acknowledge what was said ten minutes ago. Kissing my cheek, he grabs the plate in my hands. “This mine?”
“No, yours is here.” Jet turns to Matt with a huge plate full of omelet. The colorless, egg-white kind. Eww.
Matt’s face lights up over it. “Thanks for breakfast, JJ.”
Jet scowls.
“Okay, you have to tell me why you refuse to call your brother Jet,” I say.
“It’s a stupid name,” Matt mumbles.
“You’re a stupid name,” Jet says.
“So glad we can have a grownup conversation, guys,” I say.
Matt takes his seat at the dining table. “You know what my full name is?”
“Matthew?” I say.