Chapter 7
TD
"Thank you for today," I say as Tex throws our fourth catch into the bucket. "I needed this."
That laid-back smile of his appears with no effort at all. "You're welcome. It's nice to do this with someone."
I tip my head and rebait the hook. I'm not sure how much of the conversation with my lawyer he overheard this morning, but by the time I was done, he was waiting out on the front porch.
I appreciated him giving me some privacy, and I made a note to myself to have any additional conversations with my lawyer in my car so I'm not forcing the guy out of his own house.
I drop the line back down, reset the tip-up, and take a look around.
There's nothing but white snow, dark pines, and a crisp, cloudless sky. I really needed this. Not just to clear my head of the custody battle, but after surviving my first week as head coach. Kimball was right, they're a dedicated bunch, and what they lack in skill they more than make up for in attitude and perseverance. I can’t say how we’ll do this season, but it (hopefully) won’t be a total crapshoot.
When he's not looking, I discreetly angle my head toward Tex. He’s wearing a deep-red down jacket that looks like it’s survived a few winters, with a fleece layer underneath and black snow pants that crinkle slightly every time he shifts in the chair.
A wool beanie hides most of his medium-brown curls, and a gaiter hangs loosely around his neck, ready to pull up if the wind kicks in.
His boots are lace-up insulated ones, scuffed from years of use, his feet planted wide for balance on the ice.
I shake my head and wonder if he realizes the effect he's having on me by doing nothing more than being himself.
I've always been bisexual, and I was upfront with Belinda about it when we started dating.
Professionally, I've never denied who I was if someone straight up asked me about it, but I didn't go around advertising it, either.
Pro sport has made some big strides in recent times, but it still has a long way to go, and I didn't want my sexuality impacting the team negatively in any way.
"My ex-wife, Belinda, is fighting me on custody," I say glumly, sinking back down into my chair.
He nods, like it's not new information, because it probably isn't. Coaches aren't typically in the spotlight the way athletes are…until there's a sex scandal, and suddenly, it's being covered everywhere by everyone.
"You've got three daughters, haven’t you?"
I smile. "That's right. Sabra who's almost fifteen, going on twenty-five, Minnie who's ten, and Jade who just turned eight."
"I can't imagine how difficult it must be, not being able to see them."
"It's the hardest thing in the world," I say then stop before detailing how it kills me every single day.
If I could even just see them through a fucking phone, it'd be better than not knowing what they look like now.
Belinda has her faults, just like I've got mine, but never in a million years did I think she'd weaponize our children like this.
It's the lowest blow a woman can inflict on a man.
"Wanna tell me about them?" Tex asks, cracking open the thermos. Steam curls up as he pours hot cider into a travel mug and hands it over, his gloved fingers brushing mine.
"Sure, I'd love to." I take a sip to warm up then launch into some of my favorite memories of my girls.
"Sabra is intense, super smart, especially in the sciences, and wants to be a marine biologist when she grows up.
Minnie is the most curious little creature, always wanting to know everything about everything, which was fine when she was younger and I could just make up answers for questions like why is the sky blue?
but it's getting increasingly harder now that she's older and smarter herself.
And Jade, she's my little baby. So sweet and pure.
An angel, really." I keep going, recalling how we'd spend summers in the pool at our lake house since all three are complete water babies, only stopping when my throat gets dry, and, shit, I've gone on about them for way too long.
Strangely, Tex doesn't seem bored or checked out. He's listening intently, his light-brown eyes focused solely on me, a small grin lifting the corner of his mouth.
"Sorry for hogging the conversation."
"Don't be." His eyes glimmer, catching the sunlight bouncing off the frozen lake. "I like seeing this softer side of you."
I manage to smile back.
The crazy thing?
I like sharing this softer side of myself with him.
Little did I know that less than twenty-four hours later, I'd accidentally be sharing a much harder side of myself with him.
The next morning, Tex is barely out the door for brunch with his bestie, Bean, and I'm fisting my cock furiously.
I don't know what's gotten into me. This isn't like me. I mean, yes, I jerk off. But with such urgency? With images of a certain much younger roommate dominating my thoughts? With an unmistakable desire to make his mouth twitch with the kind of pleasure that builds into a moan?
I'm lying naked on the couch. Again, not something I'd normally do, but it seems to be a day of firsts. It also happens to be laundry day, so my bedding is in the wash.
Knowing I've likely got a couple of hours before Tex gets back, I figure I might just get it over and done with, hoping it'll release the attraction that yesterday's fishing expedition only stirred even deeper.
I've only messed around with a couple of guys, so I'm not playing any go-to scenario in my head. Just imagining kissing Tex, undressing him, looking into his eyes as I drive into him has me on the edge of coming.
When suddenly…
Keys jangle, the deadbolt clicks, and a gust of cold air hisses inside. "Just forgot my—Shit."
Shit is right. Because despite the shock, despite the frigid air whooshing inside, Tex has stumbled in a fraction too late, and I can't hold it in. Helpless, and wincing in pain and mortification, I come.
In front of him.
My strangled groan fills the living room.
I try to catch my breath, desperately looking around for something to cover myself with. Unable to, I lift my head, bracing to be met with disgust and orders to pack my bags and get the hell out of his house.
Instead, his light-brown eyes have darkened, and he's breathing so heavily I can hear it from this side of the living room.
"You know what? I don't need my beanie. I'll, um…I'll catch ya later. Bye!"
The thud of the front door slamming rings in my ears, and if I didn't have cum all over my hands, I'd drop my head into them.
What the hell do I do now?