Chapter 4
FOUR
RYAN
END OF FEbrUARY
It was easy to lose track of the day of the week, but having no idea which city we were staying in was a given.
It was so good to be back on the court and well into the season.
The days, the games, the training all blurred into one.
My focus was fixed on the team, the players; there was barely time to shit, let alone think about anything else.
Like every year at this time, I felt more relaxed and together, completely in my element.
Almost halfway through the season, and our team had suffered too many injuries to be comfortable.
It was to the point where everyone was stressed to hell and Coach was pushing us hard.
There was a challenging battle to come for a playoff spot, and honestly, with Higgins and McGuire out, the whole team was feeling despondent.
That hadn’t impacted on the satisfaction I experienced every time I stepped onto the court, though.
“Just get your ass to Lucas’s, no excuses,” Jayden called out before he left the change room.
He’d been giving me shit for ages about not joining him and a bunch of the other players for downtime drinks.
My excuses were wearing thin, and it was clear he wasn’t going to let me keep giving him and everyone else the brush-off.
It wasn’t like I didn’t love hanging out with the guys.
I seriously did. But it was the whole drama of fending off women or dealing with digs from my team about me needing to get laid.
It was hard to believe that as a teenager, I’d lapped up attention. These days, I was all about keeping my personal life—and absolute lack of it—completely private.
“I’ll be right behind you,” I hollered in defeat. It wasn’t the worse thing to be doing after a game, especially as practice tomorrow wasn’t till the afternoon, and our next game wasn’t for another three days.
The players on my team were good guys. When I was traded to the Minnesota Eagles, it had been the right call, even though the team was in the infancy of a big overhaul three years back.
Back then, we were far from a championship team, but we were definitely heading in the right direction three years in, despite the smattering of injuries.
And I liked to think I played some part in the turn.
But injuries, bad games, as well as shit-hot ones, were just part of the journey.
I’d discovered that early in college and had it reaffirmed when I was lucky enough to be drafted.
My focus had been absolute and unwavering.
Time and time again, that had been my excuse for the distance I’d put between me and home, and there was some truth to it.
Had I stayed in touch, been more invested in my family and Nate, there wasn’t a chance I could have lasted so long in the States, even in pursuit of my dream job.
That first year in college, I’d made myself sick with homesickness and loneliness.
While I’d covered up, played the role of happy, carefree, put-together jock, nothing could have been farther from the truth.
By my second year, I’d known in my gut the only way to make a go of it was to all but cut ties.
It was shit and wrong and made me feel sick to my stomach even today thinking about it.
But I’d done it, believing it was the only way to survive, and for the most part, it had worked.
I cut off my engine in the parking lot of Lucas’s, a small bar not too far from the court. It was a local hangout for the team; it meant everyone was usually left alone. The security helped with that, for sure.
I headed inside, greeting one of the security guys at the door. I wasn’t here regularly enough to know if he was new or not, but he was built like a brick shithouse and had a handsome smile, as well as ink running from beneath the collar of his black shirt along his neck.
“Broadwater,” he greeted, surprising me.
“Uh, hey.” Even after years of being in the spotlight, it still boggled my mind that people out in the street knew who I was.
While in and around the court I expected it, I’d deliberately lain low, keeping out of the press as much as possible, only ever really being photographed when out on official team dinners, usually with a girl my agent had organized to be my plus one.
Mickey and I weren’t close. We didn’t have that friendly relationship some of the other guys had with their agents. Probably because I wasn’t interested in media attention or making more cash in sponsorships. Not being his money cow meant I was pretty low on his priority list.
The only thing I’d asked him for—apart from good transfer deals—was my name out of the press and for a trustworthy plus one for dates. He did so, all without question.
“Your team is out back.”
I dragged my gaze away from the bouncer’s tattooed flesh and smiled. “Yeah, thanks.”
A small head bob was my acknowledgment. I headed inside, the sound of my team enough to draw my attention and make me head in their direction.
“Dude, you showed. Pay up, Sutton,” Jayden said, throwing me a shit-eating grin and holding his hand out to Gale Sutton.
“Seriously, Broadwater, today, the first time I’ve bet in ages, you decide to show up.” He scowled at me, but the humor was there all the same.
I snorted as I stepped closer to the guys. “Looks like Jayden’s buying, and I like to keep you all on your toes. Keep you guessing.”
Sutton rolled his eyes before placing a beefy arm around my shoulder. “You can keep us guessing all you want. Just show your ugly face here more often.”
“Aw, you missed my pretty face? If I’d have known, I’d have organized a poster or something, or maybe one of those life-sized pillows of me for you to take home with you,” I razzed.
“The Aussie has jokes, everyone. Mind yourselves, he’s going to go into Aussie mode anytime soon, and we’re not gonna understand a lick of what he’s saying.” Sutton squeezed my shoulder lightly, leading me to the bar. “What’s Jayden buying us? Shots?”
I chuckled. “Hell no. Training might not be till four, but I’m still knackered and need sleep without waking with a hangover. Just a beer, whatever’s on tap.”
“Make that two,” Sutton said to the bartender. “And put it on Jayden’s tab. His treat.”
“The fuck, how much was your contract worth again, yet you’re not buying your own beer?” Jayden grumbled at Sutton’s side.
“You just won my last hundred-dollar bill.” He shrugged, as though that explained it all.
“And your credit card?” Jayden’s brow lifted.
Sutton shrugged again, not bothering to answer. Instead, he picked up the beer the bartender placed in front of him and took a huge swig.
“Tight-ass.”
“Thanks for noticing, Jayden, my man. Buns of fucking steel right here,” Sutton shot back. I snorted loudly—probably a mistake, since both guys zeroed in on me.
“What did I do?”
“Other than losing me a hundred bucks?” Sutton quipped. “Not a lot, apparently. Where have you been hiding? Beyond practice and games, you’re a damn ghost.”
Jayden grabbed his beer and indicated toward an empty booth. Sutton and I followed, beer in hand, and took a seat.
“So what gives?”
My attention shifted to Jayden, who’d asked the question.
I angled back in my seat, glancing between the two of them, and frowned.
“You know, this feels like an intervention or some shit.” While there was a lightness in my tone, it really felt that way.
These two players had joined the Eagles when I had, and before that, we’d run into one another a time or two.
After playing alongside each other for the past three years, we knew each other well.
Or at least as well as I’d been willing to share, since there wasn’t a chance I’d be outing myself.
There wasn’t a single professional basketballer in our pro league currently out.
Sure, there were a handful of gay or bi players out, a couple in football and hockey, even a baseballer.
From what I understood, they dealt with homophobia regularly—usually after having a poor game—but the teams were supportive and cracked down on any homophobia from fans and the press pretty damn quick.
The media frenzies had calmed, usually after an interview or something.
More power to them.
I loved that a few pro players were living how they wished, openly and without apology, and rightly so.
But I had no interest in being the only out basketball player.
More than that, I had zero interest in being talked or gossiped about.
And honestly, I just didn’t want the attention. Not now. Not ever.
One day I’d live an authentic life, but while playing professionally…. I shuddered at the thought. That would not be happening. Ever.
“You need an intervention?” Sutton eased back and stretched his arm out across the booth.
“No.” I rolled my eyes and took a swig of beer.
“Seriously, man, I know you’ve never been one to party, but… I don’t know, since the beginning of the season, something’s changed.”
Knowing he was right, I held my breath, my gut somersaulting. And looking at these blokes who I considered friends, maybe I could share a bit of honesty. “I became an uncle just after the New Year.”
“No shit!” Jayden’s brows rose high, while Sutton’s plummeted so low I could barely see the whites of his eyes.
“Why the secret?”
I lifted one shoulder in a barely there shrug. “Not a secret so much as a surprise and me getting my head around it.”
“Explain.”
I smirked at Sutton’s one-word order before telling them about my little sister and her not telling me she was pregnant.
I explained how she was already doing an online course studying to be a veterinary nurse.
As I spoke, I saw questions forming in their eyes.
The big one was why the fuck I hadn’t known.
“Photos.” Sutton held his hand out, indicating my phone.