Hot Receiver: A MM Hate to Love Coming Out Sports Romance (Red Zone Book 3)

6. Matt

Zak stares at me, his dark eyes glittering with disgust. His longish dark hair falls around his face, framing his antagonizing gaze. “And just so we’re clear. You don’t have a right to ask me personal questions. You gave that up a long time ago.”

I ball my fingers into tight fists, but it doesn’t stifle the twinge in them, the urge to stroke his strong, defiant jaw. Christ, the longer I look, the more vibrant the memory of his lips on mine and the delicious scratch of his beard against my skin.

I gave it up because I was scared, dammit. Because I couldn’t justify jeopardizing my future. I couldn’t figure out how to have my cake and eat it, too. It was wrong, but I was a stupid kid hiding myself from the world.

So I let go of the one thing that truly made me happy, just so I could hang on to the hope of a future that was still pretty much unknown at that point. Zak has hated me ever since, and it kills me a little bit each day, knowing what I gave up and admitting to myself that I’d have done it all over again if given the choice.

Because underneath the bullshit glamorous celebrity fa?ade, I’m just a liar.

I do care about Anna. That was the truth. But what we have is more like a friends with benefits thing. Same arrangement, different girl. Zak is the first person I ever really connected with, and when he needed me most, I ran out of fear of what it would mean for the rest of my life.

The crackle of static between us now sends shivers over my skin. The way he looks at me and tries to see what’s buried in the deep recesses of my soul… he’s always been the only one to uncover it.

Can he still see through me?

Does he still have the power to undo me?

The way my body tingles under his fiery glare tells me in no uncertain terms that he absolutely can.

I force my body to twist back around, the only way to break the spell he has over me.

He wasn’t given a choice, but he still gave me mine.

He chose truth.

I chose myself.

“I don’t blame you for hating me.” My lips pull into a tight line.

“I hate myself more,” he grunts. “For letting myself get caught up with you in the first place. Now take me back to my car or whatever the hell is left of it.”

I pull into the road and merge into traffic without saying another word. A few seconds later, a sharp ringtone pierces the tense air.

“Kacey,” Zak snaps.

He pauses for a minute.

“Are you fucking kidding me? How is this my fault?”

More silence.

“Jesus Christ. Fine. I’ll meet you there.” He looks up, his harsh gaze tangling with mine in the rearview mirror. I quickly drag my eyes back to the flow of cars in front of me. “I know exactly where he is right now. In the front seat of his truck, driving me to your office.”

My jaw drops. Who the hell is he even talking to right now?

“We’ll be there soon.” He clicks to end the call and drops the phone onto the seat next to him before letting out a loud groan.

“Why the motherfucking Crusaders?” he mumbles, the sound muffled by the hands scraping down the front of his face. “Why the fuck did you have to pick this goddamn team?”

“Who was that and where am I driving you?”

“Seems like I’ve become the target for homophobic social media outrage because I stood up for my right to be a gay man in Ohio.” He sighs. “That was Marc Burillo, the team’s PR manager. He wants to meet with both of us. Now.”

I sit up straight in the seat. “Why does he want to see me? How am I involved in this?”

Shit, Anna was right. I never should have gone after Zak. I should have stayed far away from that whole scene.

A pang assaults my heart.

Except I couldn’t. It was too dangerous, and he was too stupid to believe he needed backup.

Maybe it was the need to protect him, since I fell so short on that years ago.

And as stupid as it was for him to go up against that mob, I was proud of him for having the courage to stand up for himself, courage I never had.

“Don’t worry,” he growls. “I won’t give away your secret.”

After stopping and quickly updating the address in my GPS, we’re on the way to Marc’s office in the city.

My father’s unanswered phone calls eat at me. I still haven’t had a chance to return them and find out the next shit show he’s starring in back home in West Virginia.

And there’s a good chance I’m about to star in one of my own.

Once we get to Marc’s building, I pull into a parking spot and turn off the ignition. So many unspoken words loop through my mind, tempting my mouth to form them.

But I keep it tightly shut, something I learned how to do a long time ago.

My chest tightens as we head for the elevator. I’ve never been here before, but Zak clearly has. I guess the announcement about him taking over ownership of the team needs a different spin because of what happened tonight.

I just don’t understand what I have to do with all of it.

Marc should be thanking me for getting Zak out of there when I did; otherwise, he might be having a whole different kind of conversation.

But I seriously doubt that’s why he wants to see me.

And that freaks me the fuck out.

The elevator dings on the fourth floor. Even at ten o’clock at night, there are still people buzzing around the office. Social media never sleeps, so I guess neither do PR teams. Marc has a few partners that handle different sporting teams, so I’m sure they’re always busy wrangling testosterone-raged athletes.

Another buzz of my phone reminds me that I have my own drama to manage back home.

I squeeze it tight in my pocket, willing it to stop vibrating.

Zak knocks on Marc’s door and then pushes it open.

Marc stands in front of his desk. His forehead is pinched, eyes narrowed on his iPad screen. He raises an accusatory gaze at Zak.

“What were you thinking by walking into that mess?”

Zak stiffens. “I was thinking that I wanted to get into my damn car and get the hell away from that place. How fucking dare those assholes target me because I was speaking out for myself?”

Marc runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “You’ve lived here for a long time, Zak. I know you’re not happy about taking over the team, but now that you own it, you need to know that you’re always going to be a target in this city. This state is blood fucking red, do you get that? You can’t add fuel to the fire if you want to be successful here.”

“I have been successful here,” he growls. “I’ve made a fucking fortune here, and being gay hasn’t held me back at all.”

“This is different.” Marc sighs. “You need to remember that your team has three gay players. And who knows if there are any more ready to come out?”

I suck in a breath and keep my eyes glued on Marc, hoping like hell he can’t see through me the way Zak can.

“Look, the issue is that the team is going to suffer if we don’t step in and change the narrative. We can’t make things political. We need to keep the focus on the game, on the players, on the camaraderie that we created last season. After a big comeback with Jase Maxwell and Lucas Bentley, we made it to the playoffs. We need to go into this next season stronger than ever, and any bit of bad press will fuck with the players’ heads.”

“So, what the hell do you want me to do about it? Just let the bigots get away with spewing hate? Because that’s not who I am. I won’t tolerate that kind of bullshit. And neither should the players.”

Marc nods. “That’s why I came up with a plan. And Matt is the key.”

I can feel the color drain from my face. “How do you figure?”

“Matt, let’s be honest. You’re not the best player on the team, but you’re by far the most famous. You’ve dated more of Hollywood than Pete fucking Davidson, and you spend more time in the tabloids than you do on ESPN.” He holds up a hand. “Not that I’m knocking you for it, but we’re going to use that.”

I sneak a look at Zak. His deadly glare shifts between me and Marc. “Why are we highlighting Matt’s love life? How the hell is that part of this story you’re concocting?”

“Because I hate to say it, but we need to put focus on the straight players. If what happened tonight goes viral, it could mess with ticket sales, merchandise sales, and endorsements. People will stop supporting the home team if they feel like they aren’t represented, and if the spotlight is turned on the few players whose lifestyles they don’t agree with.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I say. “After the season we had, the fans have to be excited about what’s coming in the future. We rallied with three gay players, the same players who’ll be with us this season.”

“Zak, do you know how fast their perception will change if the fans see you as an antagonist? The conservative media can easily make the fans believe you want to level the playing field by bringing in more gay players, whether or not it’s true. And if that happens, it will crush you and whatever you want to build for this team.”

“So what does that mean, exactly?” Zak’s expression darkens, his voice tight. “What do you expect me to do about it? Apologize? Because fuck no to that.”

“It means that Matt will be the focus for our PR efforts. We need a Travis Kelce - Taylor Swift-like romance that’ll take the focus off of more sensitive matters and get fans excited to come to games and invested in the team’s success.” Marc looks between us. “And Zak, you’re going to welcome it with open arms, to show that you’re as accepting as you want the fans to be. Everyone loves a good bromance. So, meet your new best friend.”