Incoming Freshman (9 page)

“That’s it? You’re not going to say anything?” Chet asked.

Bobby turned his head to the side to yell over his shoulder. “Yeah. Give me a call when football season’s over.”

* * * *

Bobby sat on the deep leather couch in the media room of Dane’s house and stared at the piece of paper in his hand. It had been four days since he’d spoken to Chet. It seemed he wasn’t the only one in the mood to avoid a potential fight. Chet had started passing basic coaching messages through Julian.

The answer to the most important of those messages was in Bobby’s hand. He’d finally done it. He’d sold his soul and values to play one more year of football.

“How’d it go?” Dane asked, hopping over the back of the couch to sit beside Bobby.

Bobby passed him the sheet of paper. “It was a lot easier than I thought.”

Dane whistled and set the paper on the end table. “How’d you get a doctor to sign off on it?”

“I told him about the partial tear but I lied about the dates. I told him I felt a hundred per cent better and my knee seemed to be stable enough for me to return to football. He examined me, made me pee in a cup and dallied with my balls while I coughed.”

“That’s it?”

“Not quite. He put me through a few exercises, but I’ve gotten so good at hiding the pain he had no idea.”

Dane pushed his glasses up on his nose and made a disapproving noise. “Did you tell Coach Sloan?”

“Nope. I thought I’d put the release on his desk tomorrow before practice.”

Dane wrapped his arms around Bobby’s arm and hugged it, fitting his head on Bobby’s shoulder. “I wish you’d go talk to him. You’ve been so miserable the last few days.”

Bobby kissed the top of Dane’s blond head. Even though Dane was older, Bobby couldn’t help but think of the guy like a younger brother. Maybe it was Dane’s naïve nature or the fact that even though he claimed to feel uncomfortable around people, he sure did like physical attention of any kind. Bobby often wondered if Dane received any affection at all when he was a child.

“Have you ever loved someone older?”

“Yeah,” Dane whispered. “Why?”

“Because I’m trying like hell to figure out a way for Chet to see me as a man and not a player or a student.”

Dane moved his head to rest his chin on Bobby’s shoulder. “I don’t know, but if you figure it out would you let me know?”

Bobby grinned and narrowed his eyes. “What’re you keeping from me? You have a crush on someone?”

“No!” Dane tried to pull away, but Bobby saw the lie written all over his friend’s face.

He held on tight and tried to go through everything he knew about Dane. Hell, the man never went out unless it was with him, so who could it be? He thought of the book Dane never seemed to be without. “Is it Professor
Sofokleous?”

Dane sucked in a breath and gave up trying to fight Bobby off. He resettled his glasses and stared up at Bobby. “Promise me you won’t say a word to anyone about that. No way am I in his league, and if he found out he’d never let me be his teaching assistant.”

“I’ll keep your secrets if you keep mine.”

* * * *

In the early morning glow of the sun, Bobby finished warming up before turning to Dane. “Okay. The second I take off, start the stopwatch.”

“Got it.”

Bobby got to his feet and shook out his limbs, mindful of twisting his knee. He knew there was no way he could match his usual time of 4.32 in the forty, but he had to know just how off he was before practice. The last thing he wanted was to make a fool of himself in front of the players and coaching staff.

He eyed the finish line and got into position. “Ready?” he asked Dane without looking over.

“Yep.”

Bobby took a deep calming breath before taking off. Each time his left foot hit the synthetic track, he prayed his leg wouldn’t buckle under him. He gave the short forty yard dash everything he had but it cost him. After crossing the line, Bobby immediately slowed and made his way to the soft grass on the interior of the track.

He dropped to the ground, praying he hadn’t done further damage to the ACL. “What was it?”

Dane took off his glasses and wiped his eyes before resettling them. Instead of announcing the results, Dane carried the stopwatch over and handed it to Bobby. “I think it’s pretty accurate.”

Bobby stared at the watch in disbelief.
5.29.
He’d run a faster time than that in high school. Still, in the grand scheme of things, it was better than he’d thought it would be. Bobby looked up at Dane. “Could you tell?”

“That you were hurting? No.”

Satisfied that he could participate in basic drills at practice, Bobby stood and took the bottle of water Dane held out. “I’m going to jog around once.”

“Want some company or is this a thinking thing?”

Bless his friend for already understanding him. “Thanks, but it’s one of those thinking things.” He took off down the track at a slow jog. Truth be told, his knee was feeling much better. Given time, it could possibly heal without surgery. Unfortunately, using the knee in everyday life was nothing like the rigorous workout it would receive on the football field.

Bobby was halfway around the track when he thought of giving the doctor’s release to Chet. He’d gone over their fight hundreds of times and realised he’d made more of Chet’s statement than he should have. Of course Chet would see him as a player. Coaching was the man’s profession, and Bobby Ray was his top recruit.

By the time he reached Dane again, he’d kicked his own ass several times. “Can I borrow your phone?”

Dane grinned and passed it over. “I’ll be in the car.”

“Thanks.” Although it wasn’t yet seven o’clock, Bobby hoped Chet would be awake.

“Dane? What’s happened?” Chet answered, fear in his voice.

“It’s not Dane, it’s me.”

“Are you okay?”

“No. Can I come by and talk to you?” Bobby hoped he hadn’t screwed up what they’d started to build.

“Sure. I don’t have to go in until ten.”

Bobby heard the bedding rustle and wanted to tell Chet to stay where he was, but the problems they needed to work out couldn’t be fixed with sex. “I’ll have Dane drop me by if you can give me a lift back to the house before you go to work?”

“I can do that.”

There was something in Chet’s voice that made Bobby uneasy. Maybe Chet had already washed his hands of the whole situation. Bobby prayed that wasn’t the case. “Okay. Thanks. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

Bobby hung up the phone, feeling only slightly better than he had before the call. Football be damned. There were some things more important than a fucking game.

Chapter Six

By the time the doorbell rang, Chet was dressed and had a pot of coffee brewing. As he made his way to the door he realised he was more nervous than the night Bobby drove into town for the first time.

Opening the door, Chet’s chest tightened.
Please don’t tell me it’s over.
He stepped back and gestured towards the kitchen. “Want a cup of coffee?”

“Sure.” Bobby waved to Dane. His roommate gave him a thumb’s up before pulling out of the driveway.

“Afraid I wouldn’t let you in?” Chet asked, walking towards the kitchen.

“Something like that,” Bobby mumbled after shutting the front door. “I know I overreacted, and I’m sorry.”

The apology right off the bat surprised Chet. He stopped and turned to face Bobby. “It’s a hard thing we’re trying to do. I’m fourteen years older than you are, and I haven’t managed to figure out how to do it.” He wanted to pull Bobby into his arms and tell him it would be okay, but he knew they needed to talk. “Have a seat.”

Bobby sat at the kitchen island while Chet filled two cups. He added sugar to both cups before sitting one in front of Bobby. “Your call surprised me. What’re you doing up so early?”

Bobby fidgeted on the stool, finally taking a sip of the coffee before finally answering. “Dane was timing my forty yard dash.”

“Really. And how did you do?”

“Not great, 5.29.”

Bobby was right, 5.29 wasn’t nearly what he’d been clocked at in the past. “What about the pain level? Do you think it’s something you can build on?”

Bobby shrugged. “Without surgery? I don’t know.”

Chet opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out for several moments. “Surgery?” He narrowed his eyes at the star running back. “Exactly what’s wrong with your knee?” He had a sneaking suspicion he knew, but he needed to hear it from Bobby.

“Partial ACL tear,” Bobby mumbled. “But I went to a doctor yesterday and he signed a release. It’s just gonna take me some time to see if I can build my speed back up.”

Chet jumped up from the stool so fast he knocked it over. He ran his hands through his hair and began pacing the kitchen. “You didn’t tell me.”

“No, I didn’t.” Bobby had the good sense to look shamed. “I need to play. I need that scholarship if I’m going to get my degree.”

Once again, Chet tried to separate his personal life from his career as a coach. The lie hurt more on a relationship level, but the news was devastating to the coach in him. “Do you know what’ll happen if you reinjure it, or worse, tear it completely?”

“Yeah, I know.” Bobby stood and righted Chet’s fallen stool. “I may be a hell of a lot younger than you, but I still understand how getting drafted works. We both know my chances are slim either way at this point. Even if I were lucky enough to get picked, it’d be far down in the draft.” Bobby shook his head. “That’s not the way I want my life to go. I’d be a fool to take a small salary and still be expected to hide my sexuality.”

“If you have the surgery now, there’s still a chance you’ll rehab and be well enough to show the scouts what you can do before the draft.”

“But then I’d lose my scholarship.” Bobby reached out and placed a hand on Chet’s shoulder. “I want a real life with a real partner, and I can have that with a degree. In my opinion it’s a much better choice than a lonely existence as a pro.”

Chet couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You’ve worked your whole life to go pro. Why would you give up on that dream now?”

“Because it was never my dream, it was Dad’s. I knew the first time Mom drug me with her into the food pantry in town so we’d have something to eat that I wanted to grow up and help people like my mom and dad.” Bobby tugged on Chet’s arm until Chet turned to face him. “You and that degree mean more to me than playing football.”

Torn, Chet weighed the options. “Just live here, and I’ll pay for your school then. That way you can have the surgery and still have a chance at the pros if you change your mind.”

“No. It’s not the way I was raised. Did you know that when my dad was laid off from his job he volunteered to paint the food pantry that was helping us get by? You know why he did it?”

“I have a pretty good idea.” Chet had had a great deal of respect for Bobby’s father.

“Because he said Sikes men always paid their debts, if not in money, then in hard work. I’ve never forgotten that. It’s the reason I worked my ass off to get the scholarships. I may not be able to pay for college, but I can damn sure give something back if they’re letting me go for free.”

Chet respected Bobby’s position, but he couldn’t do nothing and take the chance he’d get seriously injured. “I have the money to pay for your school. Hell, pay me back after you graduate if it’s so important to you.”

Bobby’s arms slipped around Chet’s waist. “I’ve already let my dad down in so many ways. I just don’t think I can do it again.”

Chet enveloped Bobby in a hug and kissed his forehead. “If you really think your dad would rather you play hurt than take a loan from someone who loves you, you’re wrong. He wanted nothing more than to see you succeed, but not at the risk of your health. Fathers aren’t like that, and your dad was no different.”

Bobby stepped out from Chet’s embrace and looked him in the eyes. “If I have a release, will you let me play?”

“Am I answering as your coach?”

“Yes.”

“You’ll have to fight Colson Farley for the position.”

Bobby nodded. “Okay. That’s what I needed to know.”

Bobby started to sit at the island once again, but Chet pulled him up short. “Now that football’s out of the way, I think it’s time we talk about what happened the other day.” Bobby started to open his mouth, but Chet stopped him with a finger against his lips. “And about the lies. Unfortunately, I have to be in a meeting in forty-five minutes. Why don’t you come over for dinner later, and we’ll hammer out what the hell went wrong.”

“You mean I have to go all day feeling this way?”

Although Chet was still angry, his feelings for Bobby hadn’t changed. “Will a kiss get you through the day?”

“Maybe. If it’s a really good one,” Bobby added with a grin.

Chet started slow, nibbling Bobby’s bottom lip before seeking entrance. With a moan of acceptance, Bobby’s lips parted and Chet’s tongue teased its way inside. He eased his body closer and settled his hands on Bobby’s ass, taking time to knead the twin globes through the thick nylon of Bobby’s shorts. Damn, he wished he had more time before his meeting. He used his tongue to play with and tickle the inside of Bobby’s mouth for several minutes before pulling back. “That damn mouth of yours is going to be the death of me,” he panted.

“Naw, you’re still too young to die. I know you think of yourself as an old man, but you haven’t even reached your prime yet.” Bobby touched the short hair at Chet’s temple. “Do blonds turn grey?”

“Yeah, but the way I’m going, I’ll lose my hair before it has a chance to turn.”

Bobby grinned. “Actually, I like your gracefully receding hairline.”

Chet chuckled and leaned in to nip Bobby’s neck. “Thanks for noticing.” He started to take a step back, but Bobby held on tighter.

“Your age has never bothered me, so why does it seem to bother you so much?”

Chet had never told Bobby about his parents, but maybe it was finally time. “My dad was twenty-seven years older than my mom.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Anyway Mom decided about eight months after I was born that she hadn’t lived enough, so she left my sister and I with my dad and took off. Guess that’s why I’m a little touchy about our age difference.”