35. Zak

Itry to focus on the charts and graphs on Ryan's laptop screen, but my head is screaming for more pain meds. A frustrated sigh slips from my lips. I close the lid and lean my head back on the couch, my left temple thundering.

"You need anything?" Ryan asks, looking up from his iPad. "Is it time for your medication?"

"No," I grumble, pressing the heels of my hands against my eyes. "It's too soon to take it again. I'll just suffer."

The Squawk Boxis on the television hanging on the wall across from us so I can try to get my head back into the financial zone. I raise my head enough for my eyes to follow the stock ticker across the bottom of the screen, staring blankly at the letters and numbers streaming and making absolutely no sense of them.

"Tell me again about the companies you're evaluating." I scrub my hands down the front of my face, take a deep breath, and sit up.

"Well, as you know, we've changed focus a bit and have been investigating various properties that can generate commercial and residential income, specifically in South and West Florida. We're working with realtors in both geographic locations to find the best spaces and focus for our investments, but there's a lot of potential for this new fund. We target the universities—graduate program students and undergraduates—and then we…"

I try to listen, try to hear whatever the fuck it is that Ryan's saying, but the clanging between my ears muffles every word. I don't know why I thought that throwing myself into work would make me forget that the past few weeks happened… or the way they ultimately ended in the emergency room.

Ryan's voice eventually trails off, probably when he sees the glazed look in my eyes.

"Zak, we don't have to do this now."

"We have to. I need to think about something other than football."

"Why don't you want to think about football?" Ryan leans forward, his elbows on his knees. "Look, you did a good thing the other day before that game. Fuck that asshole Travers. He didn't shake you at all in front of the press. You went into that locker room and did what you set out to do. You fucking inspired the team, man. You need to be proud of that. It's the same thing you do for all of us at KCap. You inspire all the time, and you don't even know it. Why the hell do you think we work our assess off for you?"

"Because of the boatloads of cash I pay you?" I say in a dry voice.

Ryan smirks. "The cash is nice, sure, but it's you. Your leadership is the reason why KCap is such a market monster, why investors are looking to throw capital at us left and right. You did the same thing for your team the other day. You led them to that victory. You finally got out of your way and said what they needed to hear."

"It felt good. But I don't know if I have it in me to be the kind of owner they need. I don't know how to?—"

I bite the words on the tip of my tongue and swallow them down because I can't bear to hear myself say them.

I don't know how to be the leader they need and constantly face the fact that the love of my life and star of the team will always be just beyond my reach.

To live with that knowledge and not be able to do a thing about it…fuck. How can I do my job as an owner and separate myself enough not to have my heart shatter every time I look at him?

"I appreciate all that, Ry. Really, I do. But one thing I realized the other night when I was afraid I might be paralyzed from that accident was that life is too damn short to not be happy." I drop my eyes to a worn edge of the leather cushion. "I think selling the team is the only way I can give my all to the one thing I'm good at. My dad would have wanted me to be happy."

And I need to separate myself from Matt Harrison if I have any shot of moving forward and finding that happiness.

My phone buzzes on the table across from me. I let out a groan, my head dropping backward again. "Christ, I don't want to talk to any more investors today."

"I'll field questions, don't worry about it."

Ryan gets up and stretches his arms overhead. "I'm starving. You got any booze?"

I snicker. "Sure, help yourself."

Staring at the television screen, I try to block out the vibrating noise that never fucking stops. "Jesus, people are relentless," I mutter, grabbing the remote control.

I can't listen any more about financial projections and unemployment numbers.

Ryan returns with a bottle of Pellegino for me and a Stella Artois for himself. He collapses onto the couch on my left and takes a long gulp of his beer as I mindlessly flip through channels.

My finger freezes on the remote when I land on ESPN. In the background, I still hear my phone buzzing but block it out when I see Matt's face on the screen.

I blink fast, still not able to cut through the shock of the words I see on the bottom of the screen.

"Holy fuck," Ryan mutters, tossing his files aside and sitting up straight.

I jab my finger on the volume button, my eyes locked onto Matt's blue ones. And despite all the feelings of anger and rejection, I can't help but get sucked into them. His voice is strong and self-assured, just like the rest of him.

I sit there, perfectly still, transfixed by his words.

"I didn't have a picture-perfect childhood. My dad went through a really tough time financially. He made some bad choices, got caught up with some dangerous people. And it took a toll on our family. I worked a few jobs at once to help out at home through high school figuring if I could play football professionally, I'd be able to help more, maybe fix everything that had been broken."

He pauses, adjusting his tie.

"I did everything I could to get recruited to a school with a great football program. And I was lucky enough to get drafted by Ohio State. I had the chance to play with some amazing athletes, including Zak Kacey, owner of the Cincinnati Crusaders."

I shift on the couch, feeling Ryan's eyes burn into my skull.

"But I did wrong by the team, the university, and the NCAA. My dad came to me, begging me to throw a game so he could win a bet because he'd bet the mortgage, and we were in danger of losing the house. So, I did. And I did it the next two times he asked."

Camera flashes blink like crazy, but Matt never rattles. He just tells his story.

"I violated the code of conduct and just about every other code out there. And then someone caught me on video, agreeing to help my dad. That someone has held the video over my head for years, but I don't want to cower from my past actions anymore."

"Did you know about this?" Ryan asks.

I turn my head to look at him, his expression incredulous. I'm sure he knows as well as I do that that knowledge makes me accountable, too, since I'm the team owner.

But I give a swift nod anyway. "I only just found out about it the other night."

"Damn…" Ryan turns back to the television, and I clench the remote in both hands.

"Brett Travers is that guy." Matt's jaw tenses. "And I'm coming out with this story because it doesn't only impact me. It impacts someone else as well, someone who lost his shot at greatness because of Brett's insecurity and greed. Brett used the video against me as leverage. There was a certain player who had come out as gay and Brett used that as a way to bully him off the team because he felt threatened. He told me he'd expose me if I told anyone about his plans."

Matt stops again, his eyes steely and determined.

A chill zips down my spine, his gaze pulling me in deep.

"I made the worst mistake of my life by letting Brett control me like that. Not only did the NFL miss out on a world-class player…"

Matt drifts off and my breath hitches.

"But I missed out on the love of my life. I let him become a target. I watched it happen, and I didn't stop it. And because of that, I lost him."

A gasp goes through the press.

"Jesus, are you hearing this?" Ryan exclaims. "Fucking Matt Harrison is gay?"

"I spent years in denial of my feelings, and I hid my secret from the world. It wasn't until a few weeks ago when he barreled back into my life that I realized I couldn't deny it to myself anymore… that I still loved him. But I did everything wrong and managed to push him away again because I was afraid of being honest and true to myself and to the rest of the world. It's a loss I will regret forever."

He stares hard into the camera.

"I've made so many mistakes in my life, but the worst one was letting the man I love more than anything think I didn't care about him. I don't know if he's watching, or if he'll even care since I've already hurt him more times than I can count. More than anything, I want him to be happy. I just hope he can forgive me. And as far as any disciplinary actions go, I understand that there will be severe consequences to my actions. I deserve whatever comes to me."

Matt's lips lift into a tight smile. "Thank you for your time today."

I sit back, stunned at what I just saw and heard.

He put his entire career on the line and came clean about everything Brett had hanging over his head.

He came out to the world.

And he told me in front of a sea of cameras that he loves me…more than anything.

I spring up from the couch, letting out a yelp at the sharp pain that explodes down my left side. Hobbling over to the table, I grab my phone and scroll through the long string of notifications still blowing up my feed.

I stare at the phone in my shaking hand, then turn my head toward Ryan. He just looks at me, his jaw on the floor.

"It's you, isn't it? You're the guy, the love of his life?"

I open my mouth. It's dry as a camel's ass. But before I can croak out the words, a loud knock at the front door grabs my attention. I hobble over to it and pull it open, my heart screeching to a dead stop.

"You said you wanted action." Matt's lips curl into a sexy grin. "And I'm running a big fucking risk by showing up here like this. But I meant everything I said. You're the love of my life, and I'll do anything to make you believe it."

And then he drops to one knee.