Chapter Four
Dev
Two years later
I unlocked the front door of my parents’ town house and wheeled my suitcase behind me. Hugo, their house man, greeted me with a smile.
“Devlin. It’s so nice to see you again. Welcome home.”
I wouldn’t correct him by saying my parents’ house had never been home to me. Hugo had worked for my parents for more than thirty years. Never married and devoted to his job, he kept their schedules and the house running.
“Great to see you too, Hugo. Are they here?” To say that receiving a text from my father asking for my presence was a surprise would be the understatement of the year. The fact that they’d instructed me to bring evening attire was puzzling, but I was sure they’d fill me in.
“No. They’re at a luncheon benefit for the library.”
“Oh.”
Seeing the confusion on my face, he held out his hand. “Let me take your luggage to your room. They said to make yourself comfortable. I have a light snack prepared for you, unless you’d like something more substantial.”
“Thanks. That’s great, but you don’t have to wait on me. I’ll take it upstairs myself.”
“Well…” For the first time, Hugo seemed uncomfortable. “A few things have changed since you were last here. Your father took over your old bedroom as his study.”
It shouldn’t have upset me as much as it did, but my room had been the only place in this mausoleum of a house where I could be myself. My sanctuary not only from my parents’ stifling rules of behavior and expectations but also for my sexuality. I’d spent hours reading up on Stonewall and the history of the gay rights movement and the toll AIDS had taken on the community.
The room at the top of the staircase had been mine, and to now see it co-opted by my father, the built-ins filled with books he’d written or edited, felt like an important part of my life had been erased. I left the office and saw Hugo waiting for me at the far end of the hallway, next to one of the guest rooms.
“Here we are,” Hugo said brightly, but his downcast eyes told a different story. He knew what my parents had done to me.
“Thanks. I think I’ll pass on the lunch for now.”
“Whatever you like. Just press number one on the house phone as always, but you should have what you need.”
He left me, and I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. For two years I’d been playing for the Kings, just a skip across the river to Brooklyn, yet my parents had never bothered to attend a single home game. Not even for the playoffs. I rolled onto my side.
“Probably a good thing. They would’ve berated me for losing. A Summers doesn’t come in second ,” I mimicked my mother’s patrician voice. God, just half an hour in this house, and the walls were closing in on me.
With it nearing the end of the off-season, I missed Brody terribly, but he had endorsement commercials filming in London, Paris, and Rome. Prior to him leaving, we’d managed to coordinate our busy schedules and spend some uninterrupted time together. I relived our final night together.
“Do you know how much I hate watching you walk out the door?” I played with the ends of Brody’s hair as we lay together, snug in bed. My personal assistant, Fallon, had found us a secluded fishing cabin, deep in the 9 Lakes region of Tennessee. We’d heard Vette talk about the area for years, and we’d managed two glorious weeks to ourselves. But now it was time to leave.
“About as much as I do leaving you behind, knowin’ when I come home, it’s trainin’ camp and preseason and another six months of not seein’ each other.” His sigh gusted in my ear. “But I’d rather have half a year with you than nothin’ at all. So I’ll take what I can get.”
I rolled on top of him. “You can have it all. Everything. You already do. Dammit, Brody, I didn’t think it was gonna be so hard.”
His fingertip traced my mouth. “I was taught it ain’t worth having if it’s too easy.”
“And I’d rather have you in my heart than nothing at all. We’re gonna make it, Brody. As long as we keep our eyes on the prize. And know our end game is to be together.”
So I was left to myself, which I hated, and I’d even contemplated flying to Europe to see him, but then my parents sent their cryptic message, and my first thought was, Are they sick? I immediately dismissed the idea. No germ would dare enter the bodies of the great Professors Leonard Summers and Sandra Roan-Summers.
I pulled out my phone.
Hi. What’re you doing?
My phone pinged.
Night here. Gonna go eat with some of the actors on set.
I sighed.
Don’t meet some sexy Italian man who’ll whisper sweet nothings in your ear.
Brody responded immediately with a laughing emoji.
Why would I want anyone else when I’ve got you?
And he did have me. Body and soul. Every single inch. Happiness settled in my chest, and I sent a heart emoji in return.
“God, we were so dumb. Four years we wasted, too afraid to let each other know how we felt and what we wanted.”
It was more than simple want, though. I’d never lacked for sex. It was easy enough to find guys like me—unable to come out, afraid because of family or the society they lived in. Fear walked hand in hand with shame. Not shame that I was gay, because I loved who I was. But shame that I didn’t have the courage to come out and be that hero some kid might need, all because I wanted to play pro ball.
Being with Brody these past two years, taking our stolen moments where we could find them, I’d realized I craved a real life with him. The going-out-for-breakfast-at-the-diner, walking-hand-in-hand-on-the-street kind of life. Early on we’d decided to keep our relationship secret, knowing if we did come out, our careers would most likely be finished before they’d barely had a chance to begin. It hurt like hell, and we hated lying to our friends, but we didn’t know what else to do.
“It sucks,” I muttered, folding the pillow under my head. “We shouldn’t have to hide. This isn’t the Dark Ages.”
Voices filtered through my closed door, and I sat up. “Speaking of the Dark Ages.” I hopped out of bed and opened my suitcase to change, then decided against it. My parents would have to take me as they found me.
From the top of the stairs, I studied my parents as my mother gave Hugo her wrap. It had been more than a year since I’d seen them—I’d had to play on both Thanksgiving and Christmas. Not that I’d received an invitation to dinner for either holiday. When I’d called to speak with them, Hugo had informed me that they had been invited to a dean’s home for Thanksgiving, and they’d spent the Christmas vacation skiing in Gstaad. I’d ordered takeout after I’d returned home from the games.
My mother, elegant as ever, had kept the same upswept blond hairdo which drew attention to her delicate bone structure. The black suit fit her bone-thin frame, and the artfully applied makeup made her appear ten years younger than her fifty-seven years.
As for my father, he stood tall and trim in a handmade charcoal suit, his once thick head of dark hair now salt-and-pepper, which only made him more distinguished. Here I was, the black sheep—hair longer than proper in their eyes, stubbled cheeks, and tattoos adorning my arms and body.
“Hello, Mother, Father.” I descended the staircase to greet them. Neither had ever been called Mom or Dad. Certainly not Mommy and Daddy. The idea made my lips twitch. I couldn’t imagine the horror on their faces if I ever called them that.
Thinking of Brody’s mother and the close relationship they had, I made myself promise to try harder with them. Maybe now that I was older and successful, they would understand how I wanted to live my life.
“Devlin. Hello.” My mother gave me her cheek and air-kissed mine. The stark contrast between this greeting and the hugs and sugar-scented kisses I received from Brody’s mom couldn’t have been more apparent.
“You’re looking lovely as always, Mother. And Father, how are you, sir?” No back slaps or hugs. Merely a handshake and a brief nod acknowledging my presence.
“I’m well. You seem…healthy.”
I grinned. “My last three away games were in the South, so I managed to grab a little pool time in between training and practices.”
He grimaced. “I see.”
My mother put a hand on his arm. “Why don’t we sit in the living room? Hugo, could you bring some tea, please?”
“Of course.”
I followed them into the pristine living room. Ebony wood floors offset the stark white walls and sofa. Oil paintings portraying still life hung on the walls. All as untouched as a museum. As a child, the only time I’d ever entered this room had been to receive a tongue-lashing from my father concerning my failures as a Summers.
“When did you arrive?” my mother asked.
“About an hour ago. Hugo said you were at a charity luncheon.”
“Yes, for the library. We’re giving a large donation to the science wing. Your father is gifting all his books and papers from the commencement of his career.” Her lips curved in a smile. “We’re very proud of him, aren’t we?”
I realized I was included in that “we” and nodded. “Yes, of course. It’s very exciting and a great honor, Father. Congratulations.”
“Thank you, Devlin. There’s an event being held Saturday night. I’d like you to attend.”
Was it silly of me to be hopeful that this could be the start of a reconciliation between us? I was willing to put the hurtful past behind us if they were.
“I’d be happy to. Thank you for inviting me.”
I could see my mother eyeing my arms, and I bit my tongue so I wouldn’t make a flippant remark.
“It’s formal attire. I can assume you have a tuxedo?” she questioned. “We did request for you to bring one.”
“Yes, of course. I’m not always in uniform, you know. I’ve been to many events where a tux is required, including the ESPY awards that took place in Hollywood. Remember? I invited you to come because I was getting an award for the best play in a football game.”
“We couldn’t make it.” Dismissive as always when I brought up my career, she sipped her tea. “But in reference to the dedication, we’d like you to promise that you won’t speak to the press about football. Only about how proud you are of your father.”
My brow furrowed. “How am I supposed to stop them from asking me? And why does it matter?”
My mother set her cup on the tray and fixed me with that steely gaze she was famous for in her lectures. “Because the night is about your father and his accomplishments. Not about you and football.”
I hadn’t wanted our discussion to turn acrimonious, but I couldn’t resist a clapback. “Don’t worry. I know you’re not interested in my life. I’ll make sure not to mention it at all.”
“There’s no need to get defensive, Devlin. Your mother is only looking out for me. I’d thought you’d be happy to attend as a family.”
I wanted to shout that it wasn’t my fault we hadn’t been a family in years. I’d tried everything possible to get them to come to my high school and college games, but they were always away lecturing or too busy writing or at speaking engagements. Father’s obligations were in Connecticut, and he would only come home on the weekends, while Mother remained in the city but was never available.
There was always an excuse, and when they’d failed to show for my graduation, I’d given up hope. This invitation could be the cornerstone for building a new relationship, one that I wanted, despite how they’d turned their backs on me. I’d seen how it should be, not only with Brody and his mom, but my other teammates and their families—always there. Always supportive and encouraging. And while it was nice to have my friends’ families in my corner, even to see them attending my games if I happened to play close enough to where they lived, it wasn’t the same as having my own parents cheering me on.
“I am happy that we can attend together,” I told them, “and I appreciate the invitation. I promise I won’t do anything to take the spotlight off you.”
The shadow of a smile played around my father’s lips. “Good. We’ll leave at six p.m. The car will be waiting.”
I nodded, unsure what to say next. They sat, comfortable in their silence, while my restlessness grew. Had I been dismissed? They hadn’t asked a single thing about my life—personally or professionally.
“I bought an apartment in Tribeca. It’s very nice. One day you should both come visit.”
My father frowned. “I hope you’re not throwing away money on frivolous things. I recall seeing you on the television in a sports car. Highly unnecessary in the city.”
My temper flared, but outwardly I kept my cool. “Well, I hardly think real estate in the city is frivolous. I majored in economics and business management. Knowing I’d be making a lot of money, I wanted to make sure I understood my finances.” I thought they’d be impressed and that it would alleviate some of their anger at my choice of career. “I’m fully aware that playing sports is for a limited time, and this way I have a viable degree.”
“I still find it hard to understand.” My mother sighed, disapproval and disappointment oozing from her every pore.
“What?”
“Why you chose this route when you could’ve been anything you wanted. You’re intelligent, and yet you’re wasting your life throwing a ball.”
My eyes narrowed. “Football is way beyond a physical game. It’s psychological. You have to memorize plays and understand your opponent. We learn people skills and how to work as a team. I do a lot more than simply throwing a ball.”
“Most of these players can’t even speak proper English. They get arrested for drugs or violent crimes. These aren’t the people you should be associating with. Even though you didn’t apply yourself as we’d hoped, with our name, you could’ve attended any university, and yet you chose some no-name, backwater place.”
Their snobbery was astonishing. I thought of Lovell, raised by a single mother who’d worked two jobs to put him and his six brothers and sisters through school—every one of them a success. Dante’s parents, both in law enforcement, who made him call home every night so they knew he was safe, and text them that he’d landed safely after every flight. And Brody’s mother, who’d barely had two nickels to rub together but was rich in love.
It took all my strength of will to remain calm. “My backwater place has one of the finest football programs in the country. I did the best I could in high school—I’m sorry I didn’t live up to your expectations. But I love playing football. It’s all I ever wanted. Can’t you be happy for me that I’m living my dream?”
My mother didn’t answer but rose to her feet, and I stood with her. “I’m going to rest before dinner.” She walked away, leaving my father and me alone. Figuring he wasn’t going to add anything of value to the conversation, I turned to leave.
“Devlin.”
I stopped and faced him. “Yes, sir?”
“Now that your mother’s left the room, let’s talk, man to man.”
Curious and a little amused, I returned to my seat. “What about?”
His green eyes met mine. “I’ve heard stories of how wild the lives of ball players are. I hope you’re taking precautions.”
Oh, this was fun. At the age of twenty-three, I was finally getting the lecture from my father about the facts of life. I blinked, pretending innocence. “Precautions? What do you mean? Like security?”
“No,” he huffed. “Sex. As in protection. You don’t want to get one of those bimbos pregnant. Your mother and I would never accept that. Your name has come up in passing among my colleagues, and it would be highly embarrassing to have to explain how a son of mine could be stupid enough to fall for that old trap.” He pointed a finger at me and lowered his voice. “Don’t think with your cock. Wrap it up.”
Stunned by my father’s language, I couldn’t help laughing at the irony of the situation. “Don’t worry. I promise you, I will never get a woman pregnant. I’m going to my new room.”
This time when I walked out, he didn’t stop me.
**
Saturday night, the three of us entered the benefit. I, ever the dutiful son, two steps behind my parents, stood aside and watched as they were interviewed and had their pictures taken on the step and repeat. A murmur rose from the crowd, and my heart sank. As anticipated, several press people recognized me.
“That’s Devlin Summers, the football player. He’s their son.”
“Devil, look this way.”
“Devil, can we get your picture with your parents?”
“Devil, what’re your team’s chances for the Super Bowl this year?”
Devil, Devil, Devil.
I could see my mother grow stiff and the storm of anger rise in my father’s eyes. I put my hands up. “This night isn’t about me. I’m here to support my father’s donation of his books and papers, as well as my parents’ extremely generous gift to the library. And I’d like to match that amount, in my parents’ names. Public libraries are the backbone of our educational system, especially for anyone who’s unable to afford to buy books.”
The cameras didn’t stop clicking and flashing, and I couldn’t wait to walk away. I joined my parents, who stood on a receiving line to welcome people. The moment I appeared, the microphones switched to me, and the questions turned to me. I rushed to shut them down.
“Sorry, everyone. I’m not here as a sports figure tonight, and I don’t plan to answer any questions. As I said before, I’m here solely to support my parents. Please respect that.” I walked away, proud of myself for adhering to my parents’ wishes. The thing was, I agreed with them. This night wasn’t about me. I escaped to the reception area, heading straight to the bar, where I ordered a Reposado with lime and stood surveying the crowd.
A woman ordered a glass of champagne and stood by my side. “Nice turnout, considering the subject.”
I grinned. “What? You’re not into quantum physics and theories of relativity? Force equals M A and all that jazz?”
She laughed, eyes sparkling. “I prefer a different type of force and mass.”
I didn’t miss the double entendre and the interest in her eyes, but I didn’t play along. She sipped her drink and tried again.
“I know you didn’t want to talk sports with the reporters, but you have a pretty tough schedule this upcoming season.”
“You’re a fan, I see. I barely know the schedule yet.” I chuckled. “And yeah, it’s tough, but we’ve got the talent. The Kings are ready to bring the trophy to New York.”
We finished our drinks and got another. She seemed content to stay by my side, and I was in no hurry to leave.
“How do your parents feel about your career choice? I’m sure they were surprised you wanted to play football.”
I shrugged. “Yeah, but I had to do what I wanted, whether or not they approved.”
“So they didn’t? Approve, I mean.”
I didn’t answer right away, watching my parents work the room, shaking hands and making small talk. They moved in sync, not once looking for me. I’d been nothing but a photo op for them.
“They have their life, and I have mine.”
“I’m sure they attend your games. You have that box and everything.”
Was she angling for an invitation? My smile was thin as I placed my untouched drink on the bar. The air had become stifling. It was time for me to leave. “We’ve worked it out to our mutual satisfaction. I’m sorry, I have to leave. It’s been nice talking to you.”
Without saying good-bye to my parents, I left the library and walked down the block to call for a car, away from the crush. Within minutes, I was speeding up Fifth Avenue toward the park and my parents’ brownstone. The car pulled up front, and I asked the driver to wait. I ran upstairs, packed my things, and returned to my ride.
Home in my apartment, I texted Brody.
I miss you so fucking much.
**
The next morning, I received an angry message from my father.
All we requested was that you not bring attention to yourself for one night, but you couldn’t. You just had to speak to a reporter and insinuate we weren’t good parents. You’ve devastated your mother.
“What the fuck are they talking about?” I growled, then saw the notifications from Fallon.
Dev. Call me. This isn’t good.
Instead of listening to him, I clicked one of the notifications and groaned. “I can’t believe she was a reporter. How the hell was I supposed to know?” Scanning the headline, I let out a vicious curse.
Devil Summers’s personal hell. The superstar quarterback reveals the tense relationship between himself and his parents.
She proceeded to build upon what I’d said to her, drawing conclusions from my body language, apparently.
My stomach alternating between free-falling and cramps, I called Fallon, and he picked up before the first ring ended.
“Dev, I—”
“Yeah, I should’ve known something like this would happen. Just field any requests for comments and say whatever bullshit you think best.”
“Of course. I’ve already started the ball rolling. I’ve put out this statement: Devlin Summers unequivocally admires his parents’ philanthropic work. They have a relationship built on mutual respect. ”
Laughable, but it would get the job done. “Thanks. I knew I could count on you.”
“Always.”
Fuck my life. I threw my phone aside, wishing Brody were there with me. Only he could make me feel better, because after what happened, I knew my relationship with my parents had gone from bad to worse.