Off Sides in Kansas

1. Jonah

CHAPTER ONE

jonah

“That’s what you’re eating?” I look up just as my older brother rounds the corner and walks into the kitchen. He’s all dressed and ready for school—in gym shorts and a Big Bend Bears hoodie.

I look at the cereal sitting in front of me and take another bite of the fruity, sugary mix.

“Why not?” I nod my head at my six-year-old niece, Ruby, who’s sitting at the kitchen island with me and then at her little four-year-old sister, Hannah, sitting right next to her—both of them with the same cereal sitting in front of them. “Hannah and Ruby are happy with it.”

Micah rolls his eyes at me, shaking his head. “Not exactly the best start to your day.” He looks over at his daughters and flashes them a smile. The guy is screwed, if you ask me. Two little daughters he can never say no to and a wife he wouldn’t dare tell no either.

Speaking of—my sister-in-law, Jenna, walks into the kitchen dressed to perfection as usual, her blonde hair as perfect as the rest of her. “Leave them alone. At least they’re eating.” She kisses both girls on the tops of their heads and then plants one right on my cheek. “You excited?”

God help me, I think she’s dead serious.

My sister-in-law is an optimist. Happy all the time—and it’s not fake either.

She’s actually this happy. “I’m not in kindergarten, Jenna,” I say, keeping my tone light.

“I don’t get excited about the first day of school.

” I nudge Ruby, teasing her a little bit.

“I’m not in kindergarten either!” she squeals. “I’m in first grade.”

I knew that, but it’s cute that she’s all riled up.

“I not in kindergarten either!” Hannah pipes up. “I in preschool!”

“I’m,” Jenna gently corrects her and then asks her girls, “Are you both excited for your first day of school?”

“Nooooooo,” they both singsong together, taking bites of their cereal, both of them with their blonde hair up in little pigtails.

Jenna just sighs loudly but shakes her head, so in love with her kids and her whole life, it makes me ache. Because I’ve never felt that way. I look over at my brother and watch him watching them, my gut twisting. How did he make it here?

We grew up in the same house. With the same shithead parents. In the same large town in Texas. And then he met Jenna in college, abandoned all plans of going pro—he could have too, but didn’t—and moved to her small, podunk little hometown in the middle of nowhere Kansas.

And he’s happy. Genuinely happy.

I don’t get it. I’ve been here for a whole week, and I can’t find one thing I like about this town. They have a total of four stoplights in the entire town. There’re a couple of pizza places and fast-food restaurants, but nothing else. Just tumbleweeds and oil derricks.

I already feel suffocated, but I guess I’m used to that.

“You okay?” Micah’s heavy hand lands on my shoulder, and I hate the deep concern I see in his eyes.

“I’m fine. I should get going,” I say, hastily climbing off the stool I was sitting on and dumping what’s left of my cereal down the garbage disposal. I head out of the kitchen with a wave to the girls and Jenna and go straight to the living room, grabbing my backpack and my keys.

I still can’t believe my dad didn’t take my brand-new truck back when he kicked me out, but so far, he hasn’t. Might as well enjoy it while I can. But before I can get out the door, Micah is there.

“Are you really not excited at all for this year?” I stare at him in disbelief, but he just stares right back, waiting for me to answer.

“You’re kidding, right?” I ask, and maybe my tone is a little too harsh because he flinches. And if you know my brother, that’s not typical for him at all. He’s a coach, through and through. Solid, reliable, unshakable.

“Why not? I mean, it’s your senior year. You’re the starting quarterback for a team that could very well end up going to state.”

I need to be kinder to him, I know I should.

I’m eighteen. Turned eighteen yesterday, actually.

He didn’t have to take me in and give me a place to stay for my senior year.

He could have left me with nowhere to go, but he didn’t.

Jenna and he took me in without thought when I called them, crying and terrified.

“My last name is Zimmerman.” He cocks his head to the side, folding his arms over his thick chest as he waits for me to elaborate.

“I’m sure you had the team working their asses off all summer, and they’ve never met me.

I’m going to show up at practice after school and just say, ‘Hey I’m your new QB, and I was only handed that position because I happen to share DNA with your coach.

Go team!’” I make a rah-rah motion with my hands.

He does not look amused even when I try to grin and play it off, but my stomach is twisted in knots, just thinking about it.

He has to know they’re going to hate my guts.

“That’s not true, and you know it. You were given this position because you’re one hell of a quarterback, starting with your freshman year of high school.

Do you know how rare it is for someone to start at quarterback as a freshman? At a huge high school like that?”

I do. It was the one and only thing our father was proud of me for. Until he found out it wasn’t the cheerleaders I was lusting after but a feisty running back on the team.

“They aren’t going to see it that way. Whose position am I stealing, by the way?”

“He’s a sophomore. He’ll have plenty of time to be quarterback, but he’s too green right now. Too timid. We have a real shot at going to state this year, and you’re going to take us there.” He places a hand on my shoulder, and his gaze is intense. “If you want to.”

Way to add to the pressure, big brother. I shrug. “Not like I can say no.”

“That’s not true. You’re eighteen. I can’t make you play football. I’m not your guardian.”

“But you’re letting me stay here.” When I have nowhere else to go.

“There’s no obligation. No strings attached. I’m not Dad.” He squeezes my shoulder a little for emphasis.

“I know,” I say, hating the emotional bullshit.

I’m tired. I’m eighteen and already so tired.

I know Micah isn’t our dad. That he left home and doesn’t have the same values, but this is a small town in Kansas.

He’s the high school football coach. I’m sure he has them all eating out of the palm of his hand.

I guarantee he’s worshipped around here, and I’ve only seen a couple of glimpses of that, just having been here for a week. Going grocery shopping with Jenna and everyone stopping to ask about Coach. Going out to eat and being interrupted several times for people to get an update on the team.

Finding out his brother, who’s living with him and playing for him, is gay? Yeah, I highly doubt the town would be thrilled with that. My stomach twists into knots. “I wanna play.” I say it as firmly as I can with my voice shaking. “It’ll be fine.”

“It really will, you know?”

Sure. As long as I can keep my little—huge—secret all year. It won’t be a problem though. I don’t think anyone is going to grab my attention in this little rundown, hick town.

Yes, I grew up in Texas, but it was a huge city.

It was surprisingly diverse and fairly liberal.

Of course there were plenty of assholes, but for the most part, it wasn’t like here.

Where men like my dad flood the town, spouting their morals and family values bullshit while spreading hate and probably cheating on their wives.

“Okay, have a good day at school,” he says, removing his hand to let me go, but his words follow me as I head to my truck. “No one is going to mess with you. You have my word.”

I flinch at that. I won’t let him ruin his reputation for me. I know he would. He was the first one I told I was gay when I was just thirteen years old, and all he did was nod and hug me. That was it.

He didn’t tell me it was a sin or that maybe I was just confused. He didn’t tell me I couldn’t tell anyone. He just hugged me, and that was it.

I turn to face him. “I’ll be fine, Micah. Don’t treat me any differently than the rest of the team, okay?” I plead with him. “No special treatment.”

He scoffs lightly, and I roll my eyes because he’s a protective big brother, that’s for sure.

“I mean it,” I say firmly.

He smiles. “As long as they behave, I will. You’re going to have a good senior year, Jonah. I promise.”

He’s so hopeful. I don’t want to crush him.

I wave, and he waves back before I get into the truck.

I won’t let him down, and I won’t let him put his life as he knows it here on the line.

I’m going to be the perfect little, small-town quarterback.