Chapter 25

Chapter Twenty-Five

Tony

"Next time, as soon as you get the ball, you cut left." I motioned wide with my arms as I reviewed the previous play with John. "If the opening is there, it should be an easy first down."

"Easy." Holding his helmet, John gave me a skeptical look as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. His disbelief was understandable because little in football could be described as easy.

"Relatively." I offered him a smile I didn't entirely feel. It had been a long week in a long damn month, but John and the rest of the kids deserved some patience and a decent mood. I was covering for Coach Willard, who had another doctor's appointment, and I was honestly happy to be here rather than at the station or at Eric's, stewing in my thoughts.

"You're good at this coaching gig," Scotty said as he jogged over to us.

"Coming up with plays? I think I'm better now at play calling than when I was playing." As a high schooler, I'd been so concerned with money and my sisters that football had been an escape. Luckily, I'd been good at it, but creativity and strategic thinking had been in short supply. Later, though, the army honed my ability to plan and see multiple steps ahead of the present position. I shrugged as I continued, "Mission strategy actually comes in handy on the field."

"Good luck getting Scotty to salute at the end of practice." John laughed, but Scotty didn't.

"I'm getting something to drink." Frowning, Scotty jogged toward the sidelines, where we'd set up the large beverage coolers for the players. It was another hot August day, and most of the players were clustered on the benches near the coolers.

"He's a prickly one." I stretched my arms and shoulders, which were more sore than they should have been, given all I'd been doing was holding a clipboard.

"Give him time to adjust," John advised, sounding far older than his years. "His swagger is all an act. In foster care, I saw kids acting tough like he does as a cover all the time. Even me. I was super hard on my dads the first couple of years."

"Very wise. And you're a good friend to him." I clapped John on the shoulder.

"Eh. I just like to listen. Cosmo calls me silent but deadly." John gave a self-conscious laugh as his pale cheeks turned pink. "Easier than talking, you know?"

"Yeah." Oh, how I knew. While I could talk easily and deeply with Caleb, with the rest of the world, I'd rather have dental work than talk about hard shit like emotions. And the more summer marched on, the more I needed to have a serious conversation with Caleb, but a root canal sounded more appetizing than starting a talk about the future.

"Anyway, thanks for helping with practice. There's my dad." He waved at Eric, who was making his way down from the stands. "I better hurry and get changed. Wren's been marinating meat all day, and Dad and I are on grill duty."

John gave us both a last grin before jogging to the locker room.

"Hey, look at you in street clothes." I gestured at Eric's faded shorts and a T-shirt advertising a middle school fundraiser. "You catch the end of practice?"

"Most of it. John's making huge strides." Eric gave a sheepish smile. "At least that's how it looks to my eyes. Football IQ still isn't my strong suit."

Eric had been a year or two older than Sean and I when he'd put up the ad at the community college looking for roommates. He'd come to Mount Hope from an urban Portland school, and while athletic, he'd run track instead of participating in team sports.

"Yeah, but you don't need to know the X s and O s of the game to be a great dad for him and the others."

"I sure hope so. At least I'm a better dad than friend." He let out a pained groan as he twisted his lips and looked away.

"What's wrong?" My neck and sore shoulder tensed even more.

"I'm worried I might have led you astray as a friend."

"How do you figure that?" The ache in my upper back intensified. I wasn't going to like wherever this was headed. And hell, I'd rather schedule a quadruple tooth extraction than continue this conversation.

"I thought I did the right thing telling you to go to the hospital the other day."

"It wasn't bad advice. I was there for Ca— Cosmo . And the rest of the kids," I added hurriedly like that might make up for my slipup.

"Cosmo. Right." Eric's skeptical expression wasn't that different from John's, proof positive that nurture could trump nature. "Anyway, coming off shift earlier, I heard a rumor that's been going around. Two firefighters are apparently hooking up on the sly."

"Fuck." I had nothing else to say. I wouldn't deny what Eric had undoubtedly guessed himself weeks ago, what with all my comings and goings.

"Yeah." Eric shoved his hands in his pockets. "Of course I said to ignore gossip and stop repeating unsubstantiated shit, but the rumor's out there."

"Think Sean's heard the gossip?" I blew out a harsh breath.

"Probably." Eric pursed his lips. "I certainly didn't want to be the one to bring it to his attention if not, but he's been unusually grumpy this week."

"Yeah," I said weakly because I had noticed that myself. "Double fuck."

"Or rather, no fucking." Eric gave me a stern look that made him seem older and wiser than me by far. "You can't jeopardize your career before you even get started. Not for a fling."

"Not my career I'm worried about," I retorted. The bigger question, the one I both didn't want to touch and needed to examine, was whether this was only a fling. I understood why Eric would assume it was because he'd never known me to have or want anything other than temporary.

"I get that you're concerned for…the other person, but Sean's in a difficult spot as acting captain. Not to mention the tightrope those of us in the queer community walk as first responders. It's easier being out than ever, but the spotlight burns brightly on our every move."

"Real lives are at stake," I agreed, exhaling hard as I gazed across the field. Most of the kids had headed for the locker room. Scotty remained, however, tossing the ball for a sophomore receiver. For all his attitude, his dedication was unmatched. I used to be like that, with a single-minded focus on my military career. I wasn't sure exactly when that had changed. Wasn't sure I liked it either.

"Including your life." Eric clapped me on the sore shoulder. "You're going to have to think about what you truly want out of this situation."

"Don't worry. I'll do the right thing." I stared off at the mountains in the distance. "I'm not going to wreck a bunch of lives for the sake of my dick."

Eric made a frustrated noise. "Is that all that's involved?"

Uninvited, a carousel of images spun through my brain. Caleb lying back in the sun after skinny dipping in the creek, the biggest grin on his face. Caleb looking so tired and worn out the other night, and all I'd wanted to do was hold him. Caleb telling me my childhood wasn't my fault and me actually believing him. Caleb dozing the night we'd had a sleepover. A thousand images and only a few sexual ones. Crap.

"It better be," I said firmly as John came walking out of the doors that led to the locker rooms. "Here comes John. Let's talk more later."

Of course, if I had my way, later would be never because the fewer uncomfortable conversations I had to manage, the better. I saw the last players off, trying to shrug off any disappointment that Scotty left with Cosmo, not Caleb. I had to get used to not seeing him. After the field was clear, I hauled all the empty coolers back into the building and checked the equipment locker to see what sort of mess the players had left.

I had to grin because this part wasn't unlike my fire station job—making sure everything was in its place, in good shape for tomorrow, and none of the safety features were compromised. And like with equipment inventory at the station, I actually enjoyed this part, straightening pads, checking footballs, inspecting helmets.

After the school year began, Coach Willard would recruit a student equipment manager, but for the time being, there was a certain satisfaction in the task. And speaking of Coach, he came into the locker room as I was finishing, leaning heavily on a shiny cane I knew better than to inquire about.

"Hey, Coach." I left the equipment locker to steer him toward his office on the far wall, a glassed-in section of the locker room that might better be described as a cubicle, but at least it had a chair for Coach Willard. "How was the doctor's visit?"

"Fine, fine." He blustered the way I knew he would. He was short and stout and had seemed old to my teen self over twenty years ago. Now, he approached legendary status as he had to be well over seventy and continuing to coach. He'd retired from teaching history years ago, but his love for the game and the kids kept him returning year after year. "I appreciate you covering the practice for me. I told Beverly on our drive back how you've been a godsend this whole summer."

I smiled at the reference to his retired English-teacher wife before waving away the praise. "I wouldn't go that far."

"I would." He leaned back in his office chair with a loud creak. "I want to run something by you."

"A new play?" I asked, pulling out my phone so I could jot a few notes for later.

"Ha. You're better at those than me at this point."

"No way." I shook my head.

"Anyway, the fundraiser your sister organized brought in enough to finally start paying my assistants a stipend."

"That's great. I'm sure Stu and his family will appreciate that."

"Yes, he'll continue his work with the defensive line, but I'd like to bring you on as offensive coordinator and assistant coach."

"Oh." Pride that he'd think of me warred with a whole list of realities preventing an easy yes. "I'm not sure. I'm happy to help, but I've also got my fire academy classes and the last of my certifications coming up."

"Is that really what you want to do with your second act?" Tilting his head to meet my gaze, Coach Willard peered deeply into my eyes. He'd always had the uncanny ability to see truths and secrets. He'd known far more about my home life than any other teacher, that was for sure, and now I wondered if he saw something I couldn't.

"It's always been the plan. I started training after high school, but then I left for the military. Getting back to the first-responder community always seemed like a good idea."

"Sometimes plans change." His tone was pragmatic with a sad edge. "Take me, for instance. I always figured they'd have to cart me off the field, but I've promised Beverly this is my last season coaching."

I made a noise of protest. His health situation had been apparent all summer, yet I was no more eager to address it than he was. "But you're a Mount Hope institution."

"Eh, even institutions grow old and mossy." He shrugged and then spread his meaty hands wide. "Nothing would make me prouder than you taking the reins."

"Me, sir?" My jaw hung open. I supposed I should have seen this coming, what with the assistant talk. Nevertheless, I gaped at him.

"You." He gave me a rare smile, pale eyes twinkling behind his thick glasses. "You always were one of the favorites. Don't tell the rest of my boys, of course."

"I'm honored, sir. Truly. However, I'm not sure I'm cut out to be a coach."

"None of us are." He nodded sharply at me. "Coaching is one of those things that chooses you, not the other way around. And leading young people is in your DNA."

He wasn't wrong. As a sergeant, many of my favorite experiences had been training newly enlisted recruits, and I'd certainly enjoyed working with the team this summer.

"I'm flattered." I took a deep breath. Funny how I was over forty now, a peer to Coach Willard by any measure, and my knees still shook like I was fifteen. "There's something you should know about me." Another big gulp. Man, talking to Angel and Eric had been so much easier. "I'm bisexual."

"Eh?" He frowned.

"I date both men and women," I explained.

"Oh." He sucked in his cheeks for a long moment. "Suppose that's common enough these days. Our Mary and her Diane just welcomed another little girl."

"You don't think my bisexuality will be an issue if I want to coach?" I pressed.

"Not with me. Some of the parents might be the type to squawk, but you'll keep it under your hat. It'll be fine." He nodded decisively.

"You mean don't be out," I said flatly.

"Out or in? Does it matter? I support you, Capo. Doesn't matter who's in your bed, but there's no need to go shouting about it."

"Yeah." My voice came out wooden and defeated. "Wouldn't want to rock the parent club boat."

"Exactly." Coach Willard appeared to have missed my tone entirely. "Now, you think about my offer. There's no one I'd rather recommend, and you don't need to answer right now. Think about it."

"I will." I gave a robotic nod. Hours later, though, my brain continued to swirl. I sure as hell had a ton to talk to Caleb about even before my phone dinged with an incoming message from him.

Caleb

We need to talk.