21. Matt

Nobody gives a damn about preseason games.

I wrap my fingers tight around the fork and shovel in the final bite of eggs, all while trying to tune out the television in the next room.

All the ESPN commentators can talk about is the press conference where I swooped in to save Zak's ass, our brief history at Ohio State, and how Brett Travers is gonna throw a wrench into our brewing bromance when we face off on the field today.

They're not focused on the game, our strategy, or the players who've worked their asses off to prepare for today.

I drain my glass of orange juice and slam it on the table next to my plate. It's almost time for me to get to the stadium, and I still feel half-asleep since I barely caught a single wink last night.

How could I when my hand was working overtime to relieve the persistent ache in my balls? Cold showers didn't do a goddamn thing to stop the highlight reel from looping through my mind. Every time those images flashed in front of my eyes, I gripped my cock tight, imagining it was Zak's lips clamped down on it, pulling and tugging and sucking…

My phone buzzes. I scrub a hand down the front of my stubbled face and drop my half-open eyes drop to the screen.

"Fuck," I groan when Anna's name flashes.

She'd wanted to come over last night, but I made up an excuse that I needed to unwind at home…alone…to get my head straight for the game today.

What a joke.

As long as Zak Kacey has control of my heart, my head will forever be fucked.

I hover a finger over the screen and stare at it until her name disappears and the buzzing stops, like a total chicken shit who can't face the truth enough to say it out loud.

Maybe she's calling to break up with me because she realized she deserves better than to be jerked around by a closeted guy who is secretly and hopelessly in love with another man. I've never turned down a night of no-strings-attached-friends-with-benefits sex before Zak crept under my skin and made me reminisce about all those hot and sweaty nights we shared years ago.

Then, after replicating a couple of them, he's burrowed himself even deeper to the point where I can't fucking rid myself of him or the feelings that bubble up every time I think of his gorgeous face, fuck-me eyes, and rock-hard body plastered on top of mine.

I'm failing Marc. Part of the deal was for me to be attached to Anna's hip in the media to take negative focus off Zak and get fans excited for the season and maybe even some surprise appearances from my Hollywood golden girl.

Of course, it would help if the guy would stop fucking taking the bait and basically diving right into the traps those ignorant assholes keep setting up for him.

But it wouldn't change the fact that it's still Zak I want to be attached to more than I want a goddamn Super Bowl ring.

I slide back, the chair legs screeching against the tile floor. With a deep sigh, I stand up and drop my plate, fork, and glass into the dishwasher.

It's a jarring realization. I never thought I'd care about anyone more than football, fame, and the glory of winning a Super Bowl, least of all a guy. Not that it matters. Zak doesn't want me, and I can't blame him. My head is so twisted, I feel like the possessed kid from The Exorcist.

How long can I really string Anna along? She's gonna get edgy and confront me. Even though we're just friends, I've been ditching her left and right, and it's not cool. I'm acting like an asshole, and it has to stop. I'm not that guy. We have that benefit tomorrow night. Maybe that'd be a good time for us to talk.

My gut wrenches.

Goddammit. Travers will be there, too.

So many fucking secrets. Even more lies.

And I can't escape any of them. They all tug tight around my chest like thick chains, slowly choking me to death. It's the worst torture, way worse than just being dead, if you ask me.

I scroll to my missed calls and stab the button to call back.

"Hey," I say gruffly when she answers. "Sorry I missed you before."

"It's okay." She pauses. "I was worried about you last night. You didn't sound right."

"Yeah." I pound the heel of my hand against my forehead. "I guess I'm just a little preoccupied about the game today."

"But it's only preseason."

And somehow, that innocent and very true comment pisses me the fuck off.

It is only preseason.

But suddenly it hits me that I'm just as much at risk as Zak or the rest of the team. My future isn't anywhere close to being sewn up, and that dickhead Travers carries my sin with him everywhere he goes.

I need the win as much as the other guys.

I need every win, if I'm being honest.

You never know when the other shoe's gonna drop.

"It's been a little crazy lately with all the bad press. The team's struggling."

"What does your new owner have to say about it? Or is he too busy making trouble to address it?"

I grit my teeth and push back my hair. "He's…got a lot of shit going on."

"Sounds like an excuse to me. He needs to remember he's responsible for a hell of a lot more than just keeping his pride intact."

Why do those words grate on me so damn much? Because they're true? Or because I'm partially the cause for why he's been radio silent, and that means I'll be partially to blame if the team tanks today?

Oh, Christ.

That hit home.

Clarity. What a bitch.

"Yeah, well, hopefully he'll keep that in mind and show up for the team today."

I can hear her even breathing through the phone.

"So… are we still good for the benefit tomorrow night?"

She wants reassurance that I'm not gonna flake out and leave her hanging.

Can't blame her. I haven't been right since Zak Kacey showed up at the fundraising event for Jase and Lucas, and I'm running out of stories to tell her about why I can't sleep with her.

"Still good. I, ah, I'm sorry for being so out of it lately. There's a lot of…stuff happening."

So much that she can't ever know.

"I get it. Hopefully, we can let off some steam together tomorrow night." But even as she says it, I'm conjuring up images of me riding Zak's fat cock. And even though it's wishful thinking because he kicked me to the curb, it makes me realize I can't keep leading Anna on. Sure, we went into this without a commitment, but I can sense her getting in deep.

I need to stop her from taking the plunge.

And that means letting her go.

The fuck with Marc's public relations plan.

If we start kicking ass, the fans will stand by us. Screw the haters. This game is ours.

After a quick shower, I get dressed and jump into my truck. The ride to the stadium is only about twenty minutes or so from my place, so it's a quick trip. I slow down at a red light and my dashboard lights up with an incoming call from my mother.

My throat tightens. I click on the Accept call button.

"Ma? Is everything okay?"

"Yes, sweetie. Everything is… well, as good as it can be, I suppose."

I clench the steering wheel. "You're lying. I can hear it in your voice. What happened?"

A tearful sigh comes through the speakers, my heart thumping harder with each second she doesn't speak.

"I'm just worried. Missy and I weren't there for Summer last time things happened. And I've seen Rusty hanging around by the girls' school this week."

"Has Dad been gone? You think he's gotten wrapped up with them again?"

Her voice drops to a whisper. "I followed him to some warehouse the other night. Watched from the car. Rusty was there, waiting for him outside." She sniffles. "I couldn't see much. Couldn't hear anything. But he went inside the place. And the next day, Rusty was at the school, watching from his car."

"Goddammit," I yell. "He's not gonna be happy until someone gets killed. You guys are in danger, do you get that, Ma? You need to leave him. Let him deal with his addiction. You've done enough to help him. Now, it's his turn to fix his shit."

"Honey, you don't understand. It's not that easy. If I go, I don't know what he'll do next, what will happen to him. He's sick."

"And what about the girls? You think staying with him is good for them? They're in grave danger down there."

"And they'll be in worse danger if I took them away from him. How can I protect them on my own, with no place to live or money to support them?"

"Come up here and live with me. Get away from that toxic wasteland for good, Ma. Do right by the girls and yourself. For once."

"Matthew, I am trying to do right by all of us. You have no idea how hard it's been. But I'm trying my best. I've always done that." She clears her throat. "I know he's had problems, but I still love him. I feel like if I leave, that will be the end of him. Can you really ask me to do that? To take everything he loves away from him? It's all he lives for."

I pull into the stadium and drive into the VIP parking deck. Heat floods my face, my jaw so tight I'm afraid it might lock. "Do you really think he loves you and the girls? You're sacrificing everything for that selfish asshole. Everything, Ma."

"I understand how you feel, but I am handling it." Her voice changes, suddenly much cheerier. "I only called to wish you well today. We'll be watching, sweetie. Be careful. We love you."

"Thanks. I love you, too." I squeeze my eyes shut. "Ma, call me if anything happens with Rusty. I'll get there as soon as I can if you need me."

"I know, sweetie. Break a leg."

"That's for theater."

She gasps. "Oh! Then forget I said it."

"Love you, Ma." I end the call, and my head falls back against the seat.

That son of a bitch. It makes me crazy that my dad and I used to be so close, and now, I can't stand the sight of him because of how deep of a hole he's dug for Ma and the girls.

Maybe I can get custody of the girls. Bring them up here because their home life is unfit. Because their dad is a fucking gambling addict who's put their lives in danger.

I heave a deep sigh as I jump out of my truck and head into the stadium. The locker room is in the underbelly of the place, but somehow, I find my feet ignoring the path they know by heart. Instead, they walk up the stairs to the corporate offices.

My brain fogs with lust and loss as I jog past the place in the stairwell where Zak fucked me against the wall.

I need to see him.

I need to hear him say the last time wasn't really it for us.

I want a future.

And I want him to want it, too.

I push open the door at the top of the stairs and walk into the hallway. The owner's boxes are on this floor, too, so there are a bunch of people wandering down the hallway to pregame.

My pulse rockets as I near Zak's office. The door opens. I pick up the pace, staring straight ahead so nobody has a chance to stop me for an autograph.

A guy walks out. He pauses to look behind him, a bright smile on his face. I nearly choke on the lump suddenly growing in my throat. Zak appears next to him.

With a sinking heart, I stop short.

I've never seen him smile like that.

Correction.

I haven't seen him smile like that in eight years.

He usually looks at me like he wants to kill me or…yep, kill me.

Who the fuck is he with?

When Zak puts his hand on the guy's shoulder, it's like a knife slicing into my heart. I want to run to him, to tell him to forget who the fuck ever it is and choose me, but my feet are stuck to the floor, glued to it like it's wet tar.

Zak leans in to whisper something in the guy's ear. They both laugh, the sound making the eggs in my stomach roil.

It's only as he pulls away that his eyes finally flicker in my direction.

For a second, we stare at each other like nobody else is watching.

His smile fades, his gaze darkening. The usual expression reserved for me.

Then, he turns and leads the guy down the hallway toward the owner's box.

And away from me.

What the fuck would ever make me think he'd choose me now when I wasn't ever strong enough to choose him?