Chapter 26 Silas
SILAS
Two and a half months was a fucking eternity.
Okay…no. Some days passed in a blur. I could barely remember July or half of August. I seemed to recall living out of a suitcase in a ridiculously expensive hotel that Ger insisted was the best in my situation.
“You’ve been hibernating and good for you, but it’s back to reality, and Joe Public wants you.”
I wasn’t so sure about that, but I liked the privacy and the only way to ensure it in a city was to spend big bucks for a penthouse apartment in an exclusive skyrise with elite security.
It was a far cry from the neighborhoods of Wood Hollow.
I couldn’t think like that, though. I was here to do a job, and I fully intended to earn my salary.
I hit the gym two or three times per day, ran till my quads ached and my heart pounded in my skull.
My job consumed me. I studied tapes, practiced routes over and over, willing exhaustion to claim me so I’d be too tired to stare at my cell and wait for a text from Ivy or Chase…
and a chance to send a daily heart emoji to Cooper.
I missed him so much, I could have fucking cried.
On the bright side, my new teammates accepted me enthusiastically. They invited me to their houses and included me in locker room silliness. I appreciated it. I’d always thrived on teams. It was familiar chaos—unlike coaching youth flag football, which was just…bonkers.
See? It happened all the time. Just as I thought I’d hit a new groove, a memory would send me spiraling into a melancholy state.
I’d end up sitting in the dark in a quiet condo with bare walls watching old movies on a seventy-inch flat-screen.
I hated the silence. It made me long for something I couldn’t have.
That made me angry. I preferred anger to fear.
Why couldn’t I be an out bi man? My sexuality had nothing to do with my athletic ability.
I wasn’t going to forget how to play football the second the truth was out.
And it was going to happen…at some point, anyway, ’cause I’d already come to the conclusion that I couldn’t keep living in the closet. I was suffocating.
But I could do this for six more months.
At least that was what I’d thought till Alli arrived in Boston and invited me to lunch.
She’d booked a table for two in a quiet corner at a chichi restaurant downtown.
We were almost finished with the appetizers she’d ordered when a camera flashed from a nearby table.
Whoever it was had been escorted out, and the manager had apologized profusely.
I’d been less annoyed than Alli. In fact, the hullaballoo gave me an excuse to read a new text from Ivy with a pic of the olive oil cake she’d made and one from Chase.
I rock at the Madden game. Have u played?
That looks delish. Yum emoji, star-eyes emoji to Ivy.
Yep. I’m a beast at those games. Winky emoji, football emoji, biceps emoji to Chase.
Nothing new from Cooper. I decided to play offense.
I saw Ivy’s cake. I’m jelly. I read the message twice and pressed Send.
Buzz buzz
Cooper: You should be. It was amazing.
Holy shit. My pulse skyrocketed and my heart swelled in my chest. From a text.
“Who’re you texting?” Alli asked, her honey-blond hair cascading artfully over one shoulder. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have thought she was posing.
Heart emoji? Yes, no? Too much?
Fuck it. I sent the emoji, then flipped my phone facedown and—was it me or was everyone staring?
I frowned, reaching for my water glass. “Friends.”
“Bullshit.” Alli coughed into her napkin. “Who is she?”
“There’s no she. I mean…there sort of is, but she’s eleven.”
Alli’s WTF expression made me laugh. “Are we having separate conversations here or what?”
“No, no. I—” I studied the beautiful woman I’d once been married to.
Alli was lovely, inside and out. It was a testimony to us both that we could be friends in spite of everything we’d put each other through.
I could trust her. At least, I hoped so, ’cause I couldn’t keep this in anymore. “Ivy is the daughter of the person I…”
Alli gasped. “Oh, my God! There is someone! I want to hear everything. Did you meet her in Vermont?”
“Yes and no.”
“Okay, I don’t know what that means, but I’m listening.” Her bracelets jangled as she leaned forward. “Talk.”
I drank more water, flitted my gaze to a nearby table that was definitely watching us. Weird. They were too far away to overhear, though, so…
“I met someone.”
She squealed. “What’s her name? What’s she like? Tell me everything!”
Here we go.
“He is amazing.” I chuckled at Alli’s blank stare. “I met a guy, Al.”
She wrinkled her nose in confusion. “Huh?”
“You heard me. A man. Not a woman. His name is Cooper, and he’s a single dad with two kids.”
Alli’s jaw dropped. “You’re not kidding, are you? I know your joking face, and that’s not it.”
“Nope. Not kidding.”
She closed her eyes for a beat and beamed at me. “Jeeeee-sus. A man. I guess I’m not surprised. I always thought you were bi, but—”
“You did?”
“Yeah, I mean…I wasn’t sure. It was a feeling more than anything, but I didn’t know how to ask. We weren’t always good at communicating,” she said, her smile fading slightly.
“No, we weren’t.”
“You’re gone for him, aren’t you? I can tell. You’re blushing.”
“I’m not fucking blushing,” I griped, almost giddy with relief. Cool. Someone knew.
“You are, and I’m happy for you. What are you going to do? Will you come out?”
“Now? No. New team, new city, new season. I can’t.”
“But you want to,” she stated.
“Yeah, I do. Eventually.”
Alli grinned. “And then…move to Vermont and make maple syrup with your new beau? What does he do? What does he look like? Do you have a photo or—”
“No, no, no. He doesn’t make fucking syrup. He’s a logger…and a businessman.”
“A logger?” She widened her eyes. “Like a lumberjack?”
“Yeah.”
Alli fanned herself with her napkin. “I have to meet him and—”
“We’re not together, Al. It was a summer thing.”
She deflated like a sad birthday balloon at the end of a party. “I understand not coming out right away, but why can’t you be together?”
“Too complicated.”
Alli set a comforting hand on mine. “I don’t think that’s a good reason. You and I were simple. We liked the same things, came from the same backgrounds, our friends even got along. But we didn’t work. I think I bored you.”
“No, you didn’t,” I protested.
She pursed her lips and shrugged. “I’m not offended.
And we know we’re better off apart. Liam, on the other hand, could not be any more complicated if he tried.
I live in a fishbowl now. Those assholes over there have been staring and probably snapping pics of us for an hour.
I’ll have to tell Liam about it so his team can counter any negative press with something sappy to let his fans know he still loves me, so they don’t think I’m in love with my ex. It’s insane.”
“Sounds like it.”
“But I love Liam. I don’t know if it’s a forever thing or for now, but I’m happy and he’s happy and…that works for me.” She let go of my hand. “I know it’s different for you, but you deserve to be happy too.”
“Thanks. Let’s just…”
“Drop it? Okay. I will. Just know that I’m one thousand percent behind you.” Alli smiled and barreled on in a rush. “I have news I’ve been dying to share.”
“You’re pregnant.”
“Fuck, no! I want a rock on my finger before that happens, honey. No, this is short-term fun. Liam is filming a movie in Boston through September and I’m staying with him.
We’ll be at all your games. Both of us. I can already tell that the PR geniuses will say I can’t go on my own or the world will think you and I are getting back together…
exhibit A, this lunch. I’ll get hate mail and death threats and—”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. I thought I fucking escaped you in LA,” I groused.
Alli scoffed. “It doesn’t matter where we live, Si. They’ll follow.”
She wasn’t kidding.
Fans were rabid about my ex and her Hollywood hunk. Throw a pro football player in the mix and somehow, the world went nuts.
My ex-wife had gone from nights spent watching Parks and Rec reruns and eating Chinese takeout with me to attending the Met Gala in a gown that cost a small fortune. Paparazzi haunted their hotels and every dining establishment they graced.
They took long-range photos of Alli in parking garages, coffee shops, and nail salons.
They commented on her clothes, her hair, her shoes, her mannerisms. Frowning at an annoying text from a telemarketer might indicate trouble in paradise in the eye of a camera and give celeb news junkies something to spin over for a few days until the happy couple made a joint appearance.
Needless to say, our innocent lunch in August went viral. And Alli had called it. PR insisted that a united front would quiet salacious gossip. In September, Hollywood’s hottest duo were regulars at every fucking Boston game.
The owner, GM, and coaches loved the media attention. Boston’s fans didn’t mind it either, though they would have preferred a less rocky start to the season. I wasn’t sure how my new teammates felt, but my old ones had big opinions. At least Vally did.
WTAF! Why didn’t they just come to our fucking games? We need you, asshole. I can’t believe you’re in fucking Boston. Also, check out Gigi’s new jersey. Cute, huh? Miss you, man.
Life was strange. I’d moved to the other side of the country to rewrite my ending and cash in on some press. It was bigger than ever, and unlike last year, I had a say in the narrative, so…that was a positive.
On the negative side: I was miserable. And lonely.
I could be surrounded by my teammates in a locker room or by beautiful people in hip bars with A list celebrities, and all I wanted was the life I had in Wood Hollow. With Cooper.
Some days I thought I was doing okay, but others…I was drowning.