24. CJ #2
“I know who he is.” Another pause, and CJ could picture his dad pacing the living room, just like he was.
“I watched you two play together for three years. I saw how close you were in college, and I saw how you two used to look at each other, and I never said anything because I didn’t want to assume something that wasn’t actually there.
” His father’s voice was careful in a way CJ had never heard before.
“I think…I think maybe I’d been watching something that was there and telling myself it wasn’t because my son would have told me something like this. ”
“Dad…” CJ trailed off. His parents were hurt. That’s what he was hearing in their voices. He’d done that to them.
“We’ll talk about this in person, CJ. This weekend.”
“Yeah,” CJ said. “Okay.”
“Are you—” His father stopped, and CJ waited while he gathered his words. “Are you being smart about this?”
CJ had a lot of answers to that question. “I thought I was. I’m trying to be.”
His father made a sound that wasn’t quite a response, and when he said goodnight, CJ could almost feel the effort it took for his father to not say the many things he definitely had on his mind.
He stood in the kitchen for a long moment after the call ended, then he opened the link again. The original post had climbed past six thousand shares. CJ watched it for a while before he closed out of it and stared at the ceiling again. He needed to call his agent.
Marcus Howell had been his agent for seven years. He was methodical and honest and frequently exhausting, and he had never once, in all that time, given CJ anything but the truth. CJ dialed his number and waited for him to answer.
“Okay,” Marcus said without preamble. “Walk me through it.”
“The basics?” CJ asked, and Marcus made a sound of agreement. “Two teammates, All-Star break trip to the mountains for a few days. Some guy at the counter took a photo.”
“The photo.”
“Yeah.”
Marcus was quiet for a moment, but CJ had sat through enough of his silences to know how to wait without filling it.
“Here’s where I am,” Marcus said. “Right now, it can be read as ambiguous. The picture is grainy enough that it could be denied. I’ve seen the post, and I’ve seen the comments.
It’s about seventy-thirty speculation to noise, which means the thirty percent is the loudest. And that thirty percent is saying the photo looks like two people who are close in a way that’s more than teammates. ”
“Okay.”
“Is that an accurate read?”
CJ looked at the harbor beyond the wall of windows in his living room. “It’s not inaccurate.”
Marcus absorbed this without commentary, which CJ appreciated. “So here’s the conversation you and I need to have, and I want to be clear that I’m having it as both your manager and your friend. My concerns are your career and your well-being, in roughly equal measure.”
“I know.”
“You have a few options to consider, and I want you to understand all of them before you do anything.” Marcus gave him a chance to speak, then continued when CJ stayed silent, “The first option is you put out a statement on your terms. You control the framing before anyone else can. You acknowledge you were there, nothing more, nothing less. The second option is to say nothing and let the story run its course. Most of these burn through a news cycle in a few days, especially if you lie low and don’t give them more fuel. ”
“Do you really think that would happen?” CJ could hear the hope in his voice.
“I don’t,” Marcus answered, and CJ deflated. “There’s a third option, and that’s you addressing it fully and directly, on your terms, when you’re ready. That one has a longer preparation period and doesn’t happen this week.”
“I need to talk to Evan.” It was the only thing CJ was certain of.
“Yes,” Marcus agreed. “You do. And that conversation needs to happen before either of you says anything publicly. If you two are not on the same page, you’ll make this significantly harder on each other and you can’t undo that.” He paused briefly. “Call me after you’ve talked to him.”
Then he hung up, and CJ was left staring at his phone. He texted Evan again. Watched the message go from Sent to Read with no response. Sent another one with the same result. Evan needed space and CJ would give that to him, for now. He’d try again in the morning.
CJ woke early the next day and went through the motions as if it were a normal day.
He moved through the kitchen on autopilot, made a pot of coffee he didn’t really want, and leaned against the windows while he sipped it.
His phone vibrated in his pocket, and CJ grimaced before pulling it out to look at it.
It was a text, but he didn’t recognize the number. He opened it with a frown.
Unknown Number
CJ, it’s Reid.
“Fuck.” CJ saved the number to his phone. There was no chance that getting a text from the team’s general manager this early in the morning was going to be a good thing.
Reid Harrington
When you have a moment this morning, I’d like to connect. We should set up a time to meet and talk through next steps.
CJ’s jaw tightened. Next steps. That sounded ominous. Before he could figure out how to respond, another message came through.
Reid Harrington
In the meantime, it would be best if you avoided coming to the stadium until we have a meeting set up.
What was he supposed to say to that? Sure, no problem. I’ll stay away from my job until the internet decides what to do with me. Then, because there wasn’t really another option, he typed:
CJ
Got it. I’m available whenever works for you.
Reid Harrington
Appreciate it. I’ll have my assistant reach out shortly with a time.
CJ stared at the phone, willing Reid to send another message, a supportive message. But his phone went dark and reality set in. This was the exact scenario that had made him run before. This was the fallout that came from wanting an actual life with Evan.
Evan.
He turned to look at his front door. Evan was avoiding him, but he lived three doors down, and CJ had an extra key fob.
“Yeah,” he muttered to himself as he stalked toward the door. “We definitely need to talk.”
The distance between their apartments seemed longer than usual, and every step sounded unusually loud. When he reached Evan’s door, CJ knocked once. Then again, harder, when Evan didn’t answer. He waited, listening for movement on the other side. But it was nothing but silence.
“Come on, Evan.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and texted Evan.
CJ
You have 30 seconds to let me in, or I’m letting myself in.
Still nothing. CJ waited a little bit longer than the thirty seconds he’d threatened, then he pulled out his key ring, found the fob for Evan’s place, and unlocked the door.
“Evan?” he called as he pushed open the door and stepped inside.
No answer. The apartment was dark, the blinds still closed, and only one small table lamp illuminated the living room. Everything looked too still, and CJ grew more nervous as he moved farther in. “Evan?”
He stepped into the living room and stopped. Evan was sitting on the couch, head tipped back and turned toward the one window with the blind still up, his gaze fixed somewhere over the harbor. He looked like he hadn’t moved recently and, for a second, CJ just stood there and stared at him.
“Hey,” he said, softer now.
Evan’s shoulders shifted slightly, confirmation that he’d heard CJ, but it took him several long seconds before he turned his head.
“What do you want, CJ?”
CJ took a few steps into the room. “You weren’t answering.”
“Didn’t feel like it.”
“Yeah, I got that.” CJ shoved his hands into his pockets. “You get a text from Harrington?”
Evan clenched his jaw. “Yeah.”
CJ studied him for a second. “You gonna look at me or are we doing this whole conversation with you pretending I’m not here?”
That got Evan’s attention and he turned his head slowly. His eyes were sharp when they landed on CJ. “I’m not pretending anything.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” CJ shot back, then immediately felt bad. “Sorry. That’s not—”
“It’s fine,” Evan cut in.
It wasn’t.
“Look, I just… I didn’t want to do this over text.”
Evan flinched and his shoulders went tight, eyes dropping for half a second before he forced them back up. “Just say what you need to say and leave then.”
CJ stilled. He recognized that look, had seen it before, years ago, in a dorm room that had been too small for the size of their emotions. It was the look of quiet, contained hurt that showed up before the impact. The one that said go ahead, I’m ready for it this time. CJ’s stomach dropped.
“Evan—”
“Don’t,” Evan said quickly. He pushed to his feet and moved a few steps away before turning back. “It’s fine. I get it.”
“No, you don’t.” CJ’s voice was sharper now.
“Sure I do.” Evan laughed, and it sounded almost hysterical. “This is how it was always going to go. Eventually, we were going to make a mistake. This was manageable when it was just us. But it’s not just us anymore.”
“Fuck,” CJ whispered.
“So yeah,” Evan continued. His voice was tight but controlled, and CJ could tell he was trying to get through this before he lost his nerve. “I get it. You need to step back—”
“Stop,” CJ said.
Evan shook his head. “Or if you want to pretend this was a mistake, or whatever will make it easier—”
“Evan, stop.” CJ stepped forward, closing the distance between them in two quick strides. He grabbed Evan’s wrist before he could step back, and he held on so Evan wouldn’t leave. “You’re trying to decide what I’m going to do before I actually do it.”
“You’ve got a pretty shitty track record.”
“Yeah. I do.” CJ tightened his grip on Evan’s wrist. “But you’re wrong this time.”
Evan looked at him through narrowed eyes. “I am.”