Chapter Six #2
“I’m working on the Cutlass today. Let me put your younger, better hands to use?” Brent asks with a twinkle in his gaze.
I wave my hands around dramatically. “Not insured anymore, so have at them.”
Brent grunts. “I can hear it on the news already. Beloved local quarterback loses fingers in a tragic car repair.”
I chuckle helplessly and follow him into the garage. The smell of engine grease overwhelms me for a moment, but it quickly settles me like it always does. Brent hands me the necessary tool and I wordlessly get to work on the engine he just replaced a few weeks ago.
“How’s the knee?” Brent asks as he hands me a rag sometime later.
I wipe at the grease on my knuckles. “Still giving me some issues. Hurts most days, but I just push through. Not like I have games to play anymore or anything.”
“Maybe lay off on the runs?”
I smile wryly at him. “Physical therapist says it’s fine.”
Brent snorts in disbelief. “As if they know everything.”
“I’m paying this one to know everything, yes.”
Brent knocks into my shoulder. “Want a beer? Mark’s on the mainland with his sister for a few days. She’s such a pain in our asses.”
“Why?” I ask as we head toward the raised-up back porch.
Brent lets out another grunt, which is a language of its own. He disappears into the house for a moment, then returns with two beers between his fingers. We sit in the Adirondack chairs and admire the bright blue waves while sipping our beers.
“How’re the guitar lessons with Tuck?”
Tuck. That’s adorable. “Good! He’s a very patient teacher.”
“Didn’t use to be that way.” Brent rubs his bearded jaw, mouth quirked up to the side in thought. “Tucker’s been through a lot. He’s my baby.”
I know. Brent’s spoken about him briefly, the way a proud father speaks about their child.
Sometimes a rift the size of the Grand Canyon opens in my chest at the idea of never being spoken about like that.
Surely when I won a Super Bowl my parents ignored the entire thing, solely because I prefer dick.
“I know,” I admit quietly.
Brent glances over at me, eyes soft and kind.
“You’ve been through a lot too though, kid.
You know, that’s why we moved to Hope Island.
Mark didn’t have an easy childhood, and when I fell in love with him, it was my mission to make his life as easy as possible.
’Cause that’s what you do when you love someone.
You don’t make their life harder, you find ways to simplify it, because you love them enough to lift them up. ”
“Sure.”
“You deserve that too, you know.”
“Mhmm.”
Brent purses his lips. “Too emotional for you?”
My lips lift in a shy smile. “Kind of. Tucker told me about his celiac disease. I’d cooked dinner and offered to feed him, but he seemed so frustrated when he couldn’t eat. I bought a bunch of new cookware and did a shit ton of research, so my kitchen is gluten-free and he can eat what I cook.”
Brent’s stare is hard this time, a little unnerving. I fight the urge to squirm. I’m not a kid, and I don’t squirm anymore, but it’s an almost thing as Brent wordlessly stares at me under the August sun.
“He told you about the celiac?”
“Yes?”
Brent rubs his jaw again, eyes unfocused. “I don’t think his ex ever gave a shit about his celiac.”
“He sounds awful.” Because everything I’ve gathered from Tucker and River is that the ex is quite frankly a piece of utter shit. “Tucker deserves better.”
“Yes,” Brent says distantly.
We finish our beers in silence, then I leave Brent with a hug and slap to his back.
I can’t stop thinking about what Brent said for the remainder of the day.
Sweet, soft Tucker deserved someone kind and loving, not an asshole who didn’t take the time to learn how to make his life easier.
I might not have had many relationships in my life because, really, my career was my relationship for much of it, but I figure it’s the same.
It doesn’t take much to show with actions how much you love someone. Pretty simple actually.
After my Thursday afternoon physical therapy session, I head to downtown Hope Beach to track Marcia down. I’m convinced there’s more I can do for the lantern festival.
The storefront for Marcia’s little tourist office is closed, the place darker than I’ve ever seen it.
Curious and worried, I head over to River’s coffee shop.
A few people are standing around waiting for their drinks, so I head toward the back to wait for River to have a moment to speak.
He spots me and waves, nodding in understanding.
Once the store is empty, he wanders over with a cup of coffee that he hands off to me. I take it with a grateful smile, then dive in about Marcia.
“Marcia all right?”
“She fell and broke her hip. She forgets she’s almost ninety, and so does the rest of the town.”
“Oh no. Is she okay?”
River shrugs. “Her kids are with her, but that’s all I know. I don’t think she’ll be able to handle the lantern festival this year.”
“I can help.”
River squints at me. “Can you?”
“Well, as you’ve pointed out, I have nothing else to do.”
“Haha.”
“Seriously.”
River rubs his forehead. “I’ve helped in years past. I think the whole town needs to pitch in on this one if they don’t want it canceled. I think most of it is done, it’ll just be the day before and the day of that will need a lot of help.”
“Well, whatever I can do.”
“Tucker can help more too. We used to be the unofficial mascots of it when we were teens. Mostly Tucker, since the whole wish thing was his idea.”
“Wish thing?” I ask before taking a sip of my coffee to hide my blatant curiosity.
River grins widely, a million memories sparkling in his gaze.
“It used to just be the lanterns, but then as a kid, Tucker said everyone should write wishes on them before they were released. Now we have the make a wish on the lantern moment before release. I’m the reason the lanterns are expensive eco-friendly ones we source from Canada.
They basically melt in the water so that no wildlife is hurt. ”
“My agent was asking about that. Optics and all.”
River nods in understanding. “Oh, I’m sure. I’ll probably call a meeting this weekend to get all our ducks in a row since the festival needs so much work still. Hopefully we don’t have to cancel for a stray hurricane like we had to when we were kids.”
I knock on the counter with a rueful smile. “Don’t invite it into the universe.”
“I forgot you sports dudes are all superstitious,” River says with a hard roll of his eyes.
“Sports dudes.”
“Sports dudes,” River repeats, turning his head to hide his wicked grin. “How are lessons going with Tuck?”
“Good. He’s quiet.”
River snorts in disbelief and moves back behind the counter as a new patron comes in.
I watch as he makes the coffee, handing it off with a smile and wave.
I lift my coffee to the person when they recognize me, but gratefully there’s no question for pictures, as most of the townsfolk got that out of their system my first few weeks here.
“Is Tucker not a quiet person?”
“Not really, not once you know him. He’s shy around you.”
“Because I’m famous?”
“Because you’re hot, and he has issues,” River points out. He seems to rethink what he said, biting his lip, toying with it, then quickly letting it go. “Pretend I didn’t say that. It’s not very best friendly of me.”
“He thinks I’m hot?”
“Everyone thinks you’re hot, Charles.” He waves his hand up and down my body with a smirk. “Look at you.”
I looked at myself in the mirror this morning, so I know what he sees.
I desperately need a haircut, my facial hair is past light stubble and into beard territory, and I’m wearing navy sweatpants and an old San Diego hoodie that’s seen much better days.
I guess I realize I’m attractive, but it’s not something I think about when I roll out of bed in the morning.
And if I’m attractive, then Tucker is a supermodel.
I kind of think the pink hair just makes him even prettier, makes him stand out in a crowd.
I think Tucker should always stand out in every crowd.
“I am uncomfortable with this turn of conversation,” I say in desperate hopes he’ll change the topic.
“Of course, the hunky quarterback is shy about his looks. Another tick in the he’s perfect category.”
“I am not perfect.”
“Oh yeah?”
“My knee,” I remind him with a pained wince.
“Whatever, dude. Anyway, I’ll let you know what time the weekend powwow will be. I’ll make sure Tucker is there.”
“Well, I’ll see him tomorrow for my next lesson.”
“Hmm.” River shoos me out of the coffee shop, and I go with a confused smile. One of the wooden light poles has a flyer of Tucker’s still hanging on. Only one strip of paper remains at the bottom, which I hope is a sign that maybe business is picking up for him.
As far as I know, Tucker isn’t much younger than me, maybe just a few years.
I don’t have much of a type, as I spent much of my career in the closet.
I’ve never really had a coming out moment actually.
I’ve just stopped caring that maybe it should be a secret.
There have been out players in the league now, and many out players after their retirement.
My sexuality was an open secret on my team, and I was always very lucky to have management and most players on my side.
Turned out a majority of the men on the team didn’t give a shit if you were leading them to the playoffs.
Much of my life was focused on one thing, getting out of Nebraska, and then getting championship rings.
Now feels like the time to focus on me, figure out what I want to do for the rest of my life.
I know for sure that I want to settle down with someone, have a gentle, quiet life.
Rafe might think football isn’t done with me, but I’m pretty done with it, unless a dream opportunity presents itself.