Chapter 15 Cooper #2
“Hey, everyone. Geez, I lucked out that I happened to be here for this. You guys look fierce!” The audience whooped in approval.
Silas grinned and continued, “Thanks for the invite today. I won’t take up much time ’cause I know you’re anxious to get the party started.
I just wanted to say a couple of things—things you might already know.
Football is a tough sport that asks a lot of its players.
You gotta do some running, jumping, quick thinking, and it helps if you’re good at throwing a ball…
and catching it.” He paused till laughter subsided.
“It can be hard work. But it’s fun work.
And you might not think about it while you’re chasing a lightning-fast opponent who’s got the ball and is racing for the end zone while you’re huffing and puffing, but you’re learning out there—discipline, cooperation, mental toughness, teamwork.
Sports bring communities together. That’s a fact.
So have fun, and—oh, yeah…I’m supposed to remind you… no tackling.”
I clapped along with the rest of the town, then secured my flag belt around my waist and approached Wood Hollow’s new celebrity.
“Well done,” I commented, listening with half an ear as Dex explained the round-robin format.
Silas initiated a fist bump. “Thanks. I’ll see you after my team crushes yours.”
I scoffed and leveled him with my sternest dad stare. “Chirping already?”
“You know it,” he singsonged.
“Yeah, well…go easy on me. I’m old.”
Silas waggled his brows, grinning as he stooped, picked up a ball, and then ran onto the field.
I made a meal out of stretching my quads, hoping my sunglasses made it less obvious that I was fixated on the visiting football hero introducing himself to his teammates—a group of track, basketball, and football coaches from Wood Hollow High.
On average, most of them were in their late twenties and thirties, thanks to the influx of new jobs and affordable housing in the area.
Elmwood’s coaches, on the other hand, were former professional athletes like Silas while Pinecrest’s were personal trainers who’d probably been specifically selected by a board for their speed and agility. Fallbrook…well, think stereotypical sitcom coaches—middle-aged, balding, beer bellies.
The seven-on-seven play allowed for more participants…or chaos, depending on whose team you were on. This game was Wood Hollow versus Fallbrook. We didn’t stand a chance.
Wood Hollow had a considerable advantage in every aspect of the game.
Not only were they faster, they knew each other well enough to assign positions based on ability instead of winging it.
Chad Holbrook had been the quarterback his senior year at Fallbrook High, and sure, that had been thirty years ago, but Chad was convinced he hadn’t lost his mojo yet.
Maybe the interception he threw that led to a pick-six was a fluke.
On his second fumbled pass, Lynn O’Grady called for a lineup change. She was a fortysomething former college badminton champion who volunteered to coach her kids’ games on the weekends.
“Give the ball to Coop, Chad. He was a QB for the Hornets and I know it grinds your gears, but they were always better than us,” she said.
“Nah, it’s okay.” I braced my hands on my knees, eying my cocky lover high-fiving his teammates after gaining another significant set of downs.
“C’mon. It’s worth a shot,” Lynn cajoled, adding a grumpy, “They may win, but let’s not roll out the red carpet, for Pete’s sake.”
Because this was low-stakes fun, no one cared about the quarterback change.
Except…my kids yelling, “Go, Dad!” and “You can do it, Dad!” from the sideline, and Silas, who flashed a radiant smile and whispered, “Just when I didn’t think you could get any hotter” as he sidled by me to join his teammates.
Sidenote: Once upon a time, I’d been a promising quarterback who’d led Wood Hollow to the Four Forest league championship two years in a row.
We’d even been invited to the state championships my senior year.
Those were rusty credentials, but I was certainly as qualified as Chad to salvage a little pride for Fallbrook.
And you know, I did okay. Not great, but my long pass connected and we scored a goal.
You’d have thought it was a Super-Bowl-winning Hail Mary.
Chase and Ivy and their friends danced and hooted in the end zone, Reg used a police megaphone to announce the touchdown while a veritable who’s-who from my youth cheered uproariously, including my first-grade teacher, Mrs. Flack, and the mailman, Mr. Scott, who told everyone he’d been delivering mail since Kennedy was president…
probably a lie, but no one called him on it.
Bottom line, it was fun. And Silas’s pantomimed incredulity was comedy gold. He flopped onto his knees in faux defeat, then collapsed onto his back.
I laughed and offered him a hand. “C’mon, Anderson. There’s no crying in football, and you’re still kicking my ass.”
He jumped up, waved to the audience, and made a show of shaking my hand. “True. And I already won my prize, so…it’s all good.”
“What is this hypothetical prize supposed to be?” I asked.
“Can’t tell you here. I might get arrested.” With that, he winked and jogged away.
My cock twitched in my joggers as I gazed after him.
Me. Single dad, respected boss, community member.
But I couldn’t help it.
Silas Anderson was in my system and under my skin. He’d invaded my hometown, charmed my children, my coworkers, and the whole damn town, and somehow, I was going to have to make sure no one knew it.
I didn’t plan to say good-bye to Silas after the festivities.
I knew where to find him, and I didn’t want to give myself away.
But Ivy and Chase waved him down in the parking lot and begged him to wait.
They each took their backpacks from my truck and hustled to the Jeep in the next row while I trailed behind.
“We have to go to our mom’s house,” Chase announced. “We won’t be back for a whole week.”
“Oh, man.” Silas blew a raspberry, crossing his arms as he leaned on his vehicle.
“Maybe you could hang out with Dad,” Ivy said in a low voice I didn’t think I was meant to hear.
Silas glanced over at me. “I’m going to Boston this week, but I’ll see what I can do.”
He high-fived each of them, fist-bumped me, and it was time to move on.
Sarah was waiting for us at my truck. She held her arms open for the kids and that was it—the signal that my time was up. I hated this part. I truly hated it.
I’d always thought it would get easier, but it never did. If there was an upside, it was that I’d have a night alone with Silas before he left.
That was definitely something to look forward to.
Silas opened his door and pulled me inside, pushing me against the nearest wall and shoving his tongue down my throat like a man possessed. Or starving.
“Holy shit. I’m fucking dying. Are you dying? It’s been days,” he moaned in between feverish kisses.
I unzipped my jacket and straightened, biting his lower lip and his chin. “Upstairs.”
We linked our fingers and made our way to the primary suite. I had no clear memory of taking off our clothes, but that was inevitable. Soon we were naked under the covers, mouths fused, bodies grinding and gliding, and then I was inside him, moving like thunder.
I marveled that something so new could feel so perfect, so right. I’d probably chastise myself later for romanticizing sex with a closeted man who lived in another state. We were on borrowed time in a borrowed house. Far from perfect and yet, tonight…it was close enough.
We lay half-entwined, gasping for air with sweat and cum cooling on our skin, too spent to worry about comfort.
“Messy.”
I hummed in agreement. “Be right back.”
I disposed of the condom, cleaned up, and returned with a washcloth to find Silas spread like a starfish in the middle of the bed.
“You wrecked me,” he moaned as he rose on his elbows to watch me wipe his stomach. “I was supposed to collect my prize tonight, and now I’m almost comatose.”
I nudged him to his side and rolled to face him. “What prize was that?”
“Your ass.”
I chuckled. “Why didn’t you collect?”
Silas studied me through hooded eyelids for a moment. “I got nervous, and I wanted you too much. I was afraid I’d hurt you and ruin it. I didn’t want that to be the way I left you.”
I opened my mouth and closed it, as surprised by his vulnerable admission as I was by the pain at the thought of him leaving.
I cleared my throat and smoothed his hair from his eyes. “Next time.”
He smiled. “I won’t be gone long. Three, four days tops.”
“Oh. And you’ll be back?”
Silas punched my shoulder lightly. “Yeah, I’ll be back. You didn’t think I was gone for good, did you?”
“I hoped you wouldn’t be, but you’re a busy guy on two coasts now.”
“Not really, and anyway, this place fucking loves me. Did you see them cheering me on?” He modulated his voice to mimic his adoring public, adding, “ ‘Go, man, go! We love you! You’re the best!’ ”
“I thought that was for me. I—oomph!”
Silas pounced, straddling my thighs and raising my arms above my head. “Are you stealing my thunder, Coop? That’s not very nice, you know. I need that praise, I feed off that praise…gimme more!”
“Okay, okay…” I laughed. “You’re the best.”
“More!” he demanded like a mad scientist. “More!”
“You’re demented.”
“Bwhahaha! I—”
I flipped him over, pinned him to the mattress, and tickled his sides. “Shut up and kiss me.”
His eyes shone with easy humor and something that mirrored the longing I couldn’t shake when he was near. I liked this man…maybe too much. And for now, knowing I wasn’t alone in this made it okay.
But the following evening, loneliness seeped through the walls in my empty house, and my certainty faltered. The eerie stillness and echoing silence ate at me, forcing me to fill the void with work I’d brought home and wonder if it was okay to text, okay to reach out, okay to hope for more.
I was used to people leaving. I was good at accepting halves and small portions of time. Maybe too good.