Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

Tony

Happily coupled friends had long been the friendship equivalent of a rock in my favorite pair of shoes. Still loved the friends, but the constant reminders of their happiness, not to mention their attempts to inflict said happiness on others via matchmaking, were about as welcome as a piece of gravel.

Accordingly, I'd been watching Sean and Denver all summer. They planned their shifts around each other. They gazed at each other like the rest of the planet didn't exist. They touched constantly. Like, right then, they held hands while watching the practice session for the fundraising charity game. I was in charge of the high school team because Coach Willard had another doctor's appointment in Portland. Sean was waiting to give John a ride, and Denver was around because Sean was there.

It used to be that I wouldn't have understood Denver's presence at all. Why tag along with someone merely to get another ten minutes in their presence? And then I'd met Caleb. And now I got it. Ten minutes wasn't just ten minutes anymore. Ten minutes was a decent sneaky make-out session, a good phone conversation, and ample time for the sort of reset being with someone whose company you totally enjoyed could provide. And for the first time, rather than irritated, I was…

Well, not jealous. That wouldn't make sense. I'd never once had illusions of the whole someone-to-come-home-to life. Watching my parents' relationship implode had chased every last fairytale from my brain. However, I was curious. Not unlike the curiosity that had led me to kiss Caleb the first time, I was curious about what it would be like to be Sean and Denver.

Openly out, comfortable enough to hold hands at a high school football field, zero fucks to give about people's opinions as they went about their day. Together. What would it be like to be in a non-sneaky relationship? I had absolutely no clue, and I needed to stop staring at my friends and return my attention to the play I was attempting to teach the team.

"Faking out the defense means being convincing." My tone was academic, not like I'd spent all damn summer pretending Caleb and I were only friends and coworkers. If anyone could teach a good fake-out, it was me. I pointed at John. "You need to follow through. Make me believe you're one hundred percent going to run in the other direction."

Holding the ball, I tried to demonstrate selling the play, much to the team's laugher.

"Acting is Rowan's gig, not mine," John grumbled. "But okay, let's try it again."

"Way to go," I cheered as the play left the defensive line in shambles. "Elliot and Cosmo, remember your job is to protect the quarterback at all costs. Don't watch John. Don't worry about anyone else's job but yours."

"Eyes on your own paper." Cosmo rolled his eyes as he managed to sound exactly like his mother. But it was good advice and a reminder for me as well. I needed to stop watching other's lives and wondering what-if and simply worry about my own life and the job I was trying to do.

"Damn, that was a good play." Stu, the art teacher filling in as defensive coordinator, ambled over as practice wrapped up. "You're sure good at getting a great effort from the team."

"He's a great coach." Angel laughed lightly as she made her way down from the stands while the team headed to the locker room. She set her water bottle and oversized tote on the bench near me, clearly intending to corner me for some after-practice talk.

"Eh. I'm just a fill-in until Coach is at full strength. And I only volunteered to coach the student team for the fundraiser charity game, so I wouldn't have to risk my shoulder playing on the alumni side."

"Smart thinking." Angel rubbed my bum shoulder with a light but expert touch. "Carrying heavy packs for your firefighter fitness exam isn't going to do your shoulder any favors either."

"I'll be okay." I stepped away from her, the thought of the upcoming academy and exams filling me with a dread I'd spent the past few weeks trying to understand. The worry was a greasy feeling, heavy and slippery and icky, and I couldn't dwell on it too long without feeling nauseated.

The last time I'd felt this unmoored was after my shoulder injury, stuck at community college, trying to make ends meet and figure out a future for myself, and I hated it.

"It would be okay if you weren't okay." Angel held my gaze with shrewd eyes.

"Eh. That's what ice packs and painkillers are for," I joked, but Angel didn't laugh.

"You don't always have to be the strong one, Tony." Her voice was just this side of preachy. "Sometimes it's okay to not be okay, and I don't just mean your damn shoulder."

"Thanks for the PSA." I snapped before softening my tone. "Sorry. I know that saying, but your care is always appreciated."

"But do you really get it?" Angel mused as she stowed her water bottle in her large teal tote bag and headed for the parking lot. I wasn't sure when she'd become smarter than me, and I wasn't sure I liked it. I was supposed to be the big brother. It was easy enough to say that someone didn't have to be stoic, but the reality of others' expectations meant a lot of people, myself included, counted on my holding it together.

As I looked away from Angel, I caught sight of Caleb assembling canopies for the weekend's fundraiser with a few others from the decorating committee. He was the one place on earth where I didn't have to be strong. No pretending. No faking other than the hiding our hook-up thing. With him, when we were alone, I felt more myself than I had the forty-two years prior. And Caleb didn't care if I was strong.

I'd freaked out on him after the hiking accident rescue, but he hadn't judged, nor had he run away. If anything, I was the one holding back. The comfort I felt with Caleb was also dangerous. And not the fun kind of risk either. What if I let my guard down and couldn't pull it back when needed? I wore my stoicism like a mask I couldn't chance dropping. But with Caleb, for the first time, I wondered who I might be without it.

"Hey, Coach." Eric wandered over, taking Angel's place on the bench near me. He was still in uniform, with the look of someone who hadn't slept in two days.

"What are you doing here? I thought Sean was on pickup duty."

"He is." Eric gave a weary shrug. "But I had exactly enough time between work and errands to catch the last play, which was terrific. Very inventive coaching."

"Not the coach," I mumbled, no more sure how to deal with his praise than I had been with Angel or Stu.

"Someone needs to be. Willard should have retired years ago. And there's no budget for a flock of assistants like the big schools have. Stu helps with defense because he's got a kid on the team and the art department enjoys making signs and murals for the team."

"I know. Most of the staff, so to speak, are volunteers. I told Coach Willard I'd keep helping after the school year starts as long as I can fit it in with the academy."

"Or let the academy wait until January?" Tone casual, Eric stretched his lower back.

"Why would I do that?"

"Because every time the subject of your exams and the academy comes up, you act like you're trapped in a two-hour delay on I-84."

"I'm not avoiding the topic." I sure was getting good at lying. In truth, ever since the hiking rescue, I'd been unsettled. I bugged Eric and Maren for updates on Diesel far more than I should have, following along with his up-and-down recovery journey like it was a referendum on my future. The last I'd heard, he was out of ICU but still struggling with infection and other setbacks. Eric continued to look at me expectantly, so I added to my pile of lies and half-truths. "I've just been so busy with the fundraiser and adjusting from military life."

"Is adjusting harder than you expected? There's help with the transition?—"

I cut him off with a raised hand. "I'm fine. It's a different pace and mindset than being on a mission, but I'll adapt."

"I know you will." Eric gave a tired chuckle as he gazed over at the group of kids emerging from the school, all fresh from the showers and roughhousing their way back to the field and waiting parents. "I swear John grew two inches this summer and put on fifteen pounds of muscle."

"They're all growing like weeds. It's what kids seem to do in the summer, according to my sisters."

"Yeah." Eric's expression and tone took on a faraway cast. "I wish Montgomery could see the man John's becoming. They'd be almost the same height now. I'm so proud of John, but not having Montgomery to share that pride with feels weird. He should be here…" Eric trailed off as he looked away. "Sorry. I'll stop."

"No, you won't," I said sternly. "You're allowed to miss your husband, Eric."

"Thanks." He offered me a rueful smile that didn't reach his exhausted eyes. "I meant I felt bad complaining to you, my most relationship-averse friend."

I made an irritated noise. "I'm not that bad. And I can appreciate what you had and not necessarily want it for myself."

"It was a damn good thing." Eric inhaled deeply. "And I've said it before, but I'd do it all over again. Even knowing this is how it ends."

"Yeah." I took a deep breath of my own, immersed in my swirling thoughts of which hurts were worth it and which I should be running from. "Maybe someday you'll?—"

"You say the word date and you can sleep in the basement with Jonas and Oz for the next month. No, I had my once-in-a-lifetime, thank you very much. But that doesn't stop me from wanting lasting love for my friends."

"Like Sean and Denver."

"And you," Eric added mildly.

"Thought I was your most relationship-averse friend," I grumbled.

"You know what they say about pride and falls." His eyes twinkled with a bit of his old humor. "And maybe back in town with your sisters tossing single friends at you, you'll finally change your tune."

"Doubtful." I meant the success of any matchmaking efforts, but Eric made a frustrated noise.

"Don't be so stubborn you miss out on something wonderful," he ordered with a sharp nod.

And damn me and my two decades of training as an operative because I still glanced over at Caleb and the decorating committee. Way to be subtle, Capo. I made myself return my attention to Eric.

"I'll try."

"You do that." Our gazes met for a second, and I wished I could say more, confess how jumbled up over relationships I truly was. But I couldn't. Secrecy sucked, and for a moment, I let myself picture a life like Eric and Montgomery had. Out, not just to a select few, but to the world at large like Sean and Denver. Walking home with Caleb, proudly holding hands instead of glancing over my shoulder every block. Not having to schedule overnights like a tactical mission. Shopping together. Cooking. Sleeping instead of trying to squeeze in as much sex as possible.

Fuck me. I truly did have it bad when I was romanticizing getting to snooze with someone. And even knowing how precarious our situation was, I was still counting down to the weekend and our chance for a private sleepover.