Chapter Twenty-Six
Dev
Mid-season
Damn, I loved the game. And on home turf? Nothing better than the roar of the crowd to get the juices flowing. Once again, we were on top of the division and looking to add another win. The score was14-3 in the fourth quarter and we were on the opposing team’s twenty-yard line. I’d thrown one pass for a touchdown, and we’d run one in. Normally I didn’t keep track of my stats, but I hadn’t thrown any interceptions, and I knew my yards thrown were good.
“How’s the head, Devil?” Terrance Leeks, a defensive end from the San Diego Sharks, called out as we took our positions.
“Hard as ever,” I yelled, and my team and several of the opposing one laughed outright. I crouched to grab the handoff from the center.
“White 80, White 80. Set. Go.”
I put the ball in Marlon’s hands, and he threaded the needle to run the ball and score a touchdown. As I celebrated, from the corner of my eye, I watched Leeks come barreling through, and before I had a chance to step away, he plowed into me as if the ball was still in play. I flew into the air and heard the screams. I rolled and fell hard, the wind knocked out of me, but I wasn’t hurt.
Just fucking pissed off.
The whistle blew, and the ref called a flag on the play for unsportsmanlike conduct. On my feet, I stormed over to Leeks and ripped off my helmet strap. “What the fuck was that?”
He shrugged. “Just doin’ my job.”
“Your job is to play football, not try and injure me. Asshole.”
He shoved me. “Watch it, pretty boy.”
“Fuck you.” I spat and walked away to the cheers of the crowd, while Leeks continued to run his mouth. On the sidelines, I waited for the special teams to make the extra point. Coach Jackson hurried to my side.
“You okay? Fucking bastard. I want him suspended for that.”
“I wouldn’t say no.”
“How’s your head?”
I rolled my eyes, but aware the cameras were on me, I held out a hand to show I was steady. “I’m great. Not a problem.”
“Good. Rest up.” He called Luke. “Fontaine. You’re goin’ in.”
Outraged, I jumped up. “You’re pulling me? Why?”
Those dark eyes narrowed. “Because I said so. You’re done, Dev. Take the win.”
I knew better than to argue, but I wasn’t happy. I wanted to take it to the end. But it was a team effort, and I sat and cheered as Luke drove the team down the field and we scored another touchdown.
“Good run,” I congratulated Luke when he returned to the bench.
“Thanks. Tough call to take you out.”
We watched as we kicked the ball, and to my shock, their receiver fumbled the ball on his thirty-five-yard line. Our guys were on top of it, and the ref signaled a turnover.
“Damn. Can’t believe it.” I jumped to my feet. “Yeah, let’s go.” I was almost at the point of putting my helmet back on when I remembered I was no longer playing. “Go get ’em, Luke.”
He threw me a quick nod and jogged onto the field, where in succession, he threw two passes to Brody and we scored again. The crowd went wild, and we won, 35-3. To my shock, the Sharks quarterback, Patrick Sloane, came over to me.
“Dev. Listen, I’m sorry about Leeks. That was a shit move.”
Trick Sloane was a few years younger than me but a hell of a quarterback, and my respect for him grew even more with his apology for his teammate.
“Not your fault, but I agree. Pissed me off. But I guess I’m a target now.”
Sloane’s lips thinned. “I’m gonna make sure he doesn’t do that again. Play to win, yeah. But not dirty.”
He stuck out his hand, and I shook it. “No worries. I appreciate it.”
Sloane walked away, and it was nice to know that a player I wasn’t close with understood.
In the locker room, the media was loving up on Luke, and this time, I wasn’t feeling so hospitable about it. Of course at the press meet afterward, I was all smiles and praise, but inside I seethed with annoyance. Yes, we’d won, and that was ultimately the goal, but it pissed me off that I wasn’t allowed to finish the game.
And for the next few games, the pattern repeated. In the fourth quarter, if we were leading, I was taken out, each game earlier and earlier. It began to mess with my head, and I started anticipating when Coach would give me the signal. Then the ultimate fuckery happened—I threw a rare interception and heard boos from the crowd for the first time.
Brody sat by my side while defense was on the field.
“What’s goin’ on, Dev?”
My gaze remained on the field, watching the Flames move the ball, but I shrugged. “I don’t know, but something’s not right. I feel like I’m slowly being squeezed out.”
Brody nudged me. “No way. You’re the backbone of the team. Let’s get back on the field and kick their asses.”
I grinned. One thing Brody always managed to do was drive away my bad mood. “You’re right.” I clapped my hands and whistled. “Let’s do this.”
We blocked their attempt at a field goal, and I was putting my helmet on, but Coach Jackson stopped me. “Take a seat. Luke will play the rest of the game.”
“What? Why? One interception and you’re benching me? C’mon, Coach. What’s really going on?”
“Summers, sit. Fontaine, take his place.”
I didn’t care if it would cost me a fine. I stormed off the field and went to the locker room. Something was going on behind the scenes, and I didn’t like it. For several minutes I paced the room before deciding not to play into their hands and returned to the field. The offensive coach, Tim Downs, wasn’t happy and chewed me out for my bad behavior.
“You don’t like the call? Too fucking bad, Devlin. What happened to the team player you’re supposed to be? I have half a mind to fine you.”
“Go ahead. Maybe if I felt like I wasn’t being pushed aside, it would make sense. Is that what’s happening?”
He didn’t answer, but I saw a flicker of something in his normally stoic expression that sent a chill through me. I bit my tongue and remained silent.
“Don’t throw a temper tantrum. Just do as I say.”
Seething, I followed instructions and sat on the bench. For the rest of the game, I ignored all the shit floating around in my brain and concentrated on the plays going down. We ended up losing, and Coach took a lot of heat from the press at the aftergame conference for removing me. Several questions were tossed my way.
“Devil, how did it feel being taken out? Do you think the Kings would’ve won if you’d stayed in?”
“Dev, do you think you’re playing at a hundred percent?”
“I’ll answer that last question first.” I gathered my thoughts and waited for my anger to pass. “No, I’m not playing a hundred percent. I’m at least at a hundred and fifty percent. I always give my all. Just as important, I’m not here to second-guess my coach. I just follow the rules. Obviously, I would’ve liked to finish the game, but as always, I’m a team player.”
Once we’d gotten changed and took our post-game treatments, I waited until I was home to call Ezra.
“Tough loss,” he sympathized. “Were you having some words with the coaches?”
“Kind of. That’s part of why I called. I don’t like the signals I’m getting.”
“Signals? Like what?”
“That’s what I need you to find out.” I pinched my eyes shut. “Please, Ezra. It’s bugging the hell out of me. If there’s trade talk out there, I want to hear about it before the rumor mill gets it. I know the deadline is next week.” The lock clicked, and Brody walked in, sporting a grim face. “Let me know what they say.”
“Will do. Talk to you soon.”
I tossed the phone aside, and Brody sat next to me. “You okay?”
I shrugged. “I dunno. I’m feeling weird.”
Brody’s brows pulled together. “Weird how? Something physical?”
And I could see his fear that my head was bothering me. “No. Not at all.” Only to Brody would I voice this. “I feel like they’re testing the waters of the team without me.”
“No way. You’re our leader.”
“Well, then someone is staging a coup . Brody, I’m telling you, the Kings are gearing up to trade me.”
Nothing in Brody’s face indicated that he wasn’t telling me the truth. Of course I didn’t think he’d lie to me, but I also knew he’d hate to hurt me if there were rumors. “No fucking way. You’re young and in your prime. Best in the league. A Hall of Famer.”
Hearing Brody’s outrage on my behalf, I put my arm around him. “I can’t imagine they’re really gonna trade me, but it’s upsetting that they’re finding it so easy to toss me aside week after week.”
“They aren’t,” Brody insisted. “I refuse to believe it.”
**
Two days later, Ezra called. “Dev? We need to talk.”
Instantly, I went on alert. Brody and I had come home from practice and were in the living room of my place, studying tapes for the upcoming game on Sunday.
“What is it?” Sensing the tension in my voice, Brody swung his legs over the side of the couch and sat up.
“I’d rather talk in person.”
“Ezra. Just tell me. I can already guess, but I need to hear it.”
“The Kings have received some offers for you. Draft picks, players…pretty good ones obviously. You’re worth a hell of a lot.”
I ignored the ego stroke. “Not enough to keep me, though, despite so many playoff and Super Bowl appearances and wins. Four championships in ten years isn’t a goddamn joke.” Even though I’d hate to be away from Brody, it could be doable if the team was close. We could deal with it for four years or so. “Okay. Where to? East Coast, right?” Brody rubbed his nape, sadness emanating from his eyes. I held out my hand, and he took it.
“Not exactly. The Oklahoma Bisons and the Utah Peaks.”
Panic rising in my chest, I shook my head. “Oh, no. No, no, no. No fucking way. I can’t live away from Brody for that many years. I won’t.”
It wasn’t easy for Ezra either. “Dev…I’m trying to do what’s best for you, but you don’t have a no-trade clause in your contract. I’m afraid the head injury last year has made you vulnerable in a way you’ve never been.”
Exactly as I feared. “And there’s no such thing as loyalty. I know, I know. It’s a business, and it’s all about the money.”
“Yes. All I can do is get you the best deal possible.”
“Thanks, Ezra. I know it’s not your fault. Talk to you soon.”
I ended the call without waiting to hear what he had to say and stared off into space. Brody remained quiet. Waiting.
“It’s across the country,” I stated, sick to my stomach.
“How far?”
“Utah or Oklahoma. I’d rather retire. That I can do, at least.”
“But you shouldn’t have to. It’s not fair. Dammit, you’re young. You’ve got years left to play.” I’d never seen Brody so angry.
“I know.” Frowning and frustrated, I ran my hands through my hair. “Be honest with me. Do you think I’ve fallen off my game? Have I been screwing up?” I knew no matter how much he loved me, Brody would tell me the truth.
“No. I haven’t noticed anything different in your play. Don’t let that interception freak you out. It’s not the only one you’ve ever thrown; you’re just hypersensitive to every move.”
“Maybe, but I think I have a right to be, especially now when I see they’re ready to trade me.” I had a wild idea, but I needed Brody’s consent. “I want to ask you something. Are you willing to let me try something that would require us coming out, but it would definitely still remain a secret?”
“That doesn’t make any sense. How can we come out if it’s still a secret?”
“Trust me?” I gazed deep into those beautiful blue eyes.
“Yeah, of course.”
I kissed him. “Let me tell you what I have in mind.”
**
Dressed in my best suit and hoping my nerves didn’t show, I strode into the business office of the Brooklyn Kings. I greeted the receptionist.
“Devlin Summers.”
The young man nodded. “Yeah, of course, sure. Mr. Summers. Pleasure to meet you.”
“I’m here for Armand Winters.”
“Let me ring him.” He picked up the phone and spoke quietly, then glanced up. “His assistant will be out in a second.”
True to his word, the door opened, and Hayden walked out to greet me.
“Hi, Dev. Follow me.” The guy was ridiculously good-looking, and I recalled there was a bit of a scandal with him, but I couldn’t remember what about. “Can I get you coffee, espresso, water?”
“No, no thank you.”
“Armand is ready for you.” He gave one knock on the door and opened it. “Devlin Summers is here.”
Armand Winters waited in front of his desk. “Come in, Devlin. Please sit.” He shook my hand and we all sat at the conference table. “Do you mind if Hayden remains with us? I have him take all my notes as his recall is exceptional.”
“No. Not at all.”
Armand Winters wasn’t much older than me, and I hoped the fact that he was in a same-sex relationship would help my case. In the times I’d met him, Armand had struck me as a nice guy—much different than his father, who’d been the old-school, business-only type. In the years since Armand had taken over the team, the Kings had set up mental-health clinics for the players to help cope with stress and depression. I also knew the team contributed to many LGBTQ causes. It boded well for what I had to say. At least I hoped so.
“I’m a little curious about this meeting, especially because it’s you on your own—is your agent or attorney coming?”
“No. This is completely my call. It’s personal. And first of all, thanks for agreeing to meet so early because of my training schedule.”
“Not a problem. I sensed it was something urgent. Are you in any kind of trouble? Do you need help?”
I shook my head. “No. I’m going to be frank with you. I’ve played with the Kings my whole career, and I love the team. I know my concussion’s raised concerns that I’m not one hundred percent, but that’s just not the case. The doctors said I’m fit to play and that there are no lasting effects.”
Armand’s eyes reflected sympathy, and he sighed. “You’ve heard about the trade talks. Honestly, I was a little surprised about it myself, but I have full faith in my coaching staff that whatever they decide is in the best interest of the team.”
Listening to Armand speak so casually about my future made me wince, but I’d never shied away from a challenge.
Here goes nothing.
“What about my best interest? The person who brought you four Super Bowls and a winning season ever since I joined the team. Don’t I get a chance to make my pitch to stay?”
Armand’s gaze shifted to Hayden, who’d sat quietly, typing on his iPad. The man’s lips twitched, and he said, “I think that’s very telling. It isn’t often a player cares so much about where he plays, rather than how much he’s playing for.”
“Hayden’s right. And I agree we owe you the opportunity to make your case.” Armand nodded. “Go ahead. I’m listening.”
I laced my fingers together so tightly they hurt. “I’m gay.” Two sets of brows, one dark and one blond, shot high. My turn to smile. “Surprise. And my partner is also with the Kings.” Their gazes remained intent, and under their scrutiny, I blew out a breath. “It’s Brody. We’ve been together since college, and last year we got married in California.”
Armand blinked and rubbed his chin. “Uh, okay, wow. This was not what I expected to hear.”
For the first time, my laughter was genuine. “Yeah, I’ll bet. It was one of the reasons I turned down an offer a few years ago to move to the Rockets for a lot more money.”
“I have to say I wondered about that. Obviously, I was glad you stayed with us, but we were all surprised. Not many people would walk away from that kind of money.” Armand’s expression was endearingly sweet. “However, now it makes sense.”
“Yeah. I did it to stay with Brody. I didn’t want to be separated from the person I love more than anything.”
“That’s really beautiful. And thank you for sharing your story with us, but I’m still not sure how it relates.”
I had to make my point before something pulled him away and the moment was lost. “I’m asking for that kind of grace from the Kings as an organization. I came to you because I figured as a gay man in a relationship, you would have a better understanding of my feelings. I love the Kings—you’re the only team I’ve ever wanted to play for, and which I’d hoped to retire from. But I love Brody more. Please don’t trade me. I know you’re listening to the coaches and their fears that I’m not the quarterback I once was, and for you, as the owner, it’s only about business and the bottom line. Maybe it’s true, but I’ve given you everything I have my whole career, and I hope I have your respect so you’ll listen to me. It’s not business to us. It’s our lives.”
Armand seemed uncomfortable. “I usually don’t get involved in the trade negotiations. I trust my coaches to steer the team in the right direction.”
“I’m coming to you—and coming out to you—because I thought you’d understand more than anyone how difficult it’s been to live in this world that wouldn’t accept Brody and myself as partners. I’ve lived my entire career under a shadow of fear that I’d be outed and have to give up what I love doing. Because you know for sure, if I came out, I’d never be able to play.”
Armand sighed. “I hate having to agree with you, but you’re right. I remember when Keller Williams came out, and he’s a high school football coach now—not even active. The press hounded him and his partner.”
That had been a shock to me as well, but obviously, I shouldn’t have been surprised. “Exactly. Even though it shouldn’t, the focus becomes the player’s sexuality, not the game.”
“Okay, Dev.” Armand hitched his chair closer. “So what is it you want me to do?”
“I’m asking you to reconsider this trade and let me stay for five more years. Be the franchise quarterback, as you’ve called me, and let me bring home more Super Bowls.”
“And Luke Fontaine?” Armand posed the obvious question. “What about him? He wants to play and has proved he can. He’s going to be a free agent, and we’ll lose him.”
“Maybe so, but I’m the proven entity. I’ve been the one to get the wins and lead the team. I’m the one who’s brought you all the championships. Trade him for great draft picks if you can. If not, then he stays my backup, and I don’t mind if he plays some, but not because you feel I’m washed up. Look. I still keep my eye on the college scene, and there are a few kids coming up in the ranks with incredible potential. Remember, we also need young, fast running backs, wide receivers, and tight ends. It’s a circle of life—eventually everyone on the team will turn over. But I’m only thirty-one, and that’s not so old for a quarterback.”
“What’s to say we won’t be having this conversation again in five years?”
A fair question, and at least he hadn’t dismissed me outright. “I’m giving you my word. By that time, I’ll have had enough. Brody and I want to be able to enjoy our lives. Hopefully we’ll have more Super Bowls to add to our collection, and I’d do everything possible to make that happen.”
The phone rang, and Hayden jumped to answer it. “I’ll tell him,” he stated and hung up. “Armi, your meeting is ready.”
Thankful I’d been able to get this much time to plead my case, I stood. “I appreciate you seeing me and listening to my story.”
We walked out together. Armand shook my hand. “Thank you for sharing your personal life with me. You’re a great player, Devlin, and whether you stay with us or finish your career elsewhere, you’re a role model and someone I’m proud to know.”
“Thank you.”
Of course I nodded and said the right words, but as I took a car to the field for practice, I had no idea where I stood. I met with the offensive coaches, and both Luke and I went through game planning and preparation. I didn’t get any vibes from them whether I was staying or going. There were no messages or emails from Ezra or anyone.
Four days passed, and my nerves were on edge, but I’d about given up hope. We broke practice around dinnertime, and in the car home, I checked my messages, Brody’s first.
Be over after I shower and change. I’ll bring dinner.
Warmth rushed through me. No matter what happened, I’d never be alone as long as I had him.
Fallon had sent me a bunch of texts.
US Sports Network, NFL This Week, and Football Daily all want to know if the trade rumors are true. What’s going on? What’re they talking about?
I responded with two words: Nothing. Yet.
What do I tell them? They’re not the only ones. Local TV stations are asking too.
The fact that I hadn’t heard a peep from the Kings or Armand wasn’t a good sign. But I’d always been lucky with the Hail Mary pass, and this one was the biggest of my career.
Just say I don’t comment on rumors.
I lay on the couch, waiting for Brody to arrive, when I got a call.
“Ezra? What’s up?”
“Turn on Sports News Network . What did you do?”
“What do you mean?” I grabbed the remote. I saw Coach Jackson flanked by all the coaching staff. The door lock clicked, and Brody walked in with two bags.
“What’s goin’ on?” He set the bags on the table. “That’s Coach.”
“Ezra’s on the phone. Said I needed to watch.”
“You do,” Ezra called out.
Coach adjusted the microphone. “Today we made a trade deal with the Oklahoma Bisons. We’ve traded Luke Fontaine for future draft picks and All-Pro wide receiver Jerrod Bermiester. We have full faith and confidence in Devlin Summers as our franchise quarterback and the leader of our team.”
“I’ll call you back,” I said to Ezra, and set the phone on the table. “It worked. Armand Winters must’ve spoken to the coaches.”
“I guess. I hope he didn’t say anything.”
“There’s no way he would. Are you upset that I did? You said it was okay to tell them.”
Brody looked down at our entwined hands. “No. I’m just…overwhelmed. Relieved. I guess you were right goin’ to the top.” He lifted our fingers to his lips. “I should know by now that you always get what you want.”
When I’d told Brody I wanted to talk to Armand Winters because he would be the one person to understand our predicament, he’d been hesitant, but I’d asked him to trust me.
I held his face between the palms of my hands. “Only if it’s important. And that’s you. The most important thing in the world to me.”
We listened to a little bit more of the news conference, but there were no other startling revelations. My phone was blowing up with texts from friends on the team. Fallon sent one that was a line of hearts and clapping hands, and I laughed at Kelsie’s.
Now that you’re staying, time to introduce me to your hot friend.
Of course. I live to give you a sex life.
She sent me a kissy-face emoji and a heart.
I put my phone facedown to concentrate on Brody.
“I’m so glad to have this settled.”
“You think they’re gonna sign you for the full five years you were talkin’ about?”
I picked up the remote and turned off the set. “I don’t know. I’m hoping, but I’ll call Ezra and see.”
Ezra didn’t even bother to say hello. “What did you do without talking to me first?”
“I took one chance to shoot my shot, and it paid off. I spoke to Armand Winters.”
“It sure the fuck did. They sent me over a contract. Five years, eighty million dollars. The usual incentives and such.”
“Won’t say no to that. You think I can get a no-trade in there? I agreed to retire after the five years.”
Ezra’s snort almost broke my ear drum. “You’re pushing it. No. Lemme ask you, what the hell did you say to Winters?”
I laid my head on Brody’s shoulder. “I spoke from the heart, hoping that as a gay man, he’d understand my feelings. How hard it is to live a closeted life in sports. And that I could play for another five years, but not if I moved away from Brody. I reiterated my stats and what I’ve done for the Kings, and that I wanted to stay with them because it’s a family. And that it would mean everything to me to be with the man I love.”
“I have it on good authority Armand Winters personally made this request, so it’s basically a done deal. I’ll have all the paperwork to you tomorrow. Get some rest.”
I set the phone on the table, and Brody grabbed me in a bear hug. “Ow. Don’t crush the merchandise.” But I couldn’t stop laughing and kissing his face, over and over.
“I love you, Dev.”
After all these years, it came down to the end game. A life of love with Brody.