Chapter 14
Lane had played in big games before.
The Thunder had even made the playoffs the last two years, but they’d lost in the first game last year, and the year before? They’d only made it one round further.
He’d played in playoff games in college too, even made it to the quarterfinals in his senior year.
But everything was different this season. Not only were the Thunder the number one seed in the AFC with all the expectations that brought, Trevor was here with him.
Not just on his team. Not just living and working with him. But with him, in the kind of way that Lane had never quite allowed himself to think about. Never allowed himself to even dream about.
And they were going to the playoffs together.
Every time Lane looked over at him in a meeting or in the locker room or on the field, on the days leading up to the game, there was an added dash of pressure and also excitement.
He wanted to win the game, not just for Aidan and Levi and Nate and all his teammates, but for himself. For him and Trevor.
Lane was afraid he knew why, but he’d been working so hard for so long to not think of Trevor that way, it was difficult to shift into the mind frame where it was not only okay, it was encouraged.
Aidan came up to him after the walk-through, the day before the Piranhas playoff game, and said, “You got something you want to tell me?”
“About the game film?”
“No,” Aidan huffed out in annoyance. “Though I wouldn’t be mad if you had something magical to slice the Piranhas defense in half. But actually, no, about you and Trevor.”
“What about me and Trevor?” It wasn’t easy to pretend that nothing was going on, because it felt increasingly like everything was going on, and as hard as it was to fool their parents, it was harder to look his QB dead in the eye and lie.
Which was why he hadn’t actually managed it yet.
“Please, I might be stupid sometimes, but I’m not blind.”
“Can I record that?”
Aidan barely cracked a smile at that. Not a good sign. “Don’t change the subject.”
He still didn’t have the right to tell anyone anything about Trevor’s sexuality, and he’d have rather died than out him without Trevor’s permission, but he could tell Aidan about his half of it.
“You know when our parents got married, right?”
“You were teenagers, yeah?”
Lane nodded. “Trev and his dad had just moved to town. Tom saw my mom in the grocery store line, and that was it for him. First time I saw Trevor, I thought who’s this super hot guy, I wonder if I could get him to talk to me.
Didn’t know who he was, just knew I was crushing hard on the guy in the gym who kept looking at me.
Then one night, my mom introduced me to her new boyfriend and her son, and yeah, there he was. ”
“Shit,” Aidan said.
“I know everyone thinks we don’t like each other—but God, I’ve always liked him too much.”
“That was what . . .” Aidan scrunched up his face as he tried to do the mental math. “Five years? Six?”
“Six, yeah.”
“And you’ve liked him this whole time,” Aidan stated.
Lane nodded. “Kept away, tried to make it go away, God, so many fucking times, and now . . . well, now it’s never going away.” He didn’t have to tell Aidan explicitly why. He had a guy, he knew why that might be.
“Right.” Aidan paused. “Did you still want it to go away?”
“Not now. Now it’s . . . well, it’s good? I’m glad I like him.” Lane never thought he’d be grateful for this complicated tangle of feelings that had made everything more difficult, and never, ever easier.
“Wait,” Aidan said. “Hold the fuck up.”
Lane, who’d just been about to escape, stopped. Anyone else, he’d have just kept turning away, but this was his QB. And he’d learned, long ago, one of his first lessons in the NFL, that you didn’t turn your back on Aidan Flynn.
“What?”
“Six years of liking him, you don’t just like him,” Aidan said, shooting him an expectant look.
And what the hell did Aidan expect him to say?
“Please, man, you love him. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before,” Aidan said, chuckling now. Like this was all funny, and not horrifying.
Good, too, Lane supposed, but horrifying that he’d never really considered the possibility before.
“Uh-oh,” Aidan continued. “You’re looking like maybe you didn’t know that.”
“I . . .” Lane didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t known that, but clearly he should have.
All those months, all those years, of course he couldn’t put it behind him, because every time he tried, he’d end up back home for one reason or another, and all the time, even as limited as it was, did was show him more of Trevor.
Trevor smiling, Trevor laughing, Trevor playing football, Trevor shoveling eggs into his mouth, giggling as Delia ruffled his hair.
Trevor glancing up at him, admiration shining in his eyes. Wishing, so obviously, for them to be closer, for them to be friends, and Lane rejecting violently the idea. Couldn’t even imagine it, no matter how many times he’d tried.
And that was why, clearly.
He hadn’t just liked Trevor; he’d loved him.
Oh, God, he loved him.
“You didn’t know,” Aidan said softly. He put his arm around Lane’s much bigger, much broader shoulders. “Listen, I didn’t get it either. So it’s okay.”
“I should have,” Lane said. “I should have.”
It was so fucking obvious, now that someone else had said it.
For a split second, there was that horrible, terrified corner of his brain that rebelled, screaming that he should tell Trevor he couldn’t do a relationship after all. Because if he did, and it ever ended, he was going to be totally ruined. Annihilated, honestly.
But then, wasn’t he already?
Nobody else was going to be touching and kissing Trevor. Making him laugh. If he had anything to say about it, just Lane.
“Listen, this shit is hard,” Aidan said sympathetically. He patted him on the chest. “So hard, we’re allowed to be dumb as hell about it.”
“Even you?” Lane asked, because that was easier than asking, even me? Despite the fact that he’d made his peace long ago that he was good at a lot of things, most of which happened on a football field, but that he’d never be smart.
“Even me,” Aidan admitted.
“Huh.” Lane’s brain still felt like it was recalibrating.
After the initial fear, and the initial reaction that he should push Trevor away—which really, how fucking stupid was that?
—now he was really thinking about it, that he loved Trevor.
And it was actually really fucking good.
Trevor, always, tucked up next to him, near enough to touch and near enough to poke and prod Lane when he needed it.
Because he was always going to need it. Always going to need Trevor.
Aidan patted him one last time and stepping away as he chuckled. “You’re gonna be okay. Don’t expect you to say anything about Trevor, but . . . just throwing out that the way he looks at you? Probably more than okay.”
“Sure,” Lane said. Now he just needed to get through the next time he saw Trevor without just blurting it out. Now that he knew, it seemed incredibly silly to not say it as soon as possible, even if it was clearly way too soon.
“And if you wanna be grateful by giving me any ideas on how to demolish the Piranhas’ defense,” Aidan joked.
“You know how to do that,” Lane said.
Aidan just shrugged. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”
“Yeah,” Lane said, swallowing hard, a flare of nerves rising inside him. Aidan gave him one last sympathetic glance and then wandered off, probably to find his own boyfriend, leaving Lane to try to parse through all of this.
Tomorrow could be the first playoff game he and Trevor won together, or it could be the last game of Trevor’s rookie season.
When it was over, what were they going to do? Stay in Toronto? Go back to Arizona? Would Trevor want to move out? Lane wouldn’t blame him for wanting his own space—and most couples didn’t move in before they ever got together, but then they’d already been moved in together.
All those questions had existed before Aidan had shone that bright light inside Lane, making it impossible to be willfully blind any longer, but now they hit a lot harder. A boyfriend and a boyfriend he loved shouldn’t be all that different, but turned out, the feelings were the magic ingredient.
“Hey,” Trevor said, behind him, and Lane turned around. Biting his lip so he wouldn’t just blurt it out. Because holy hell, how had he been this dumb?
Of course he loved Trevor.
Too soon for Trevor to possibly return the feelings, of course, but he’d been the one to want to make things official. To stop pretending that what they were doing was friends with benefits. So, there was definite hope for the future.
Lane just needed them to win tomorrow.
To keep winning.
“You okay?” Trevor said, as Lane wrapped a hand around his wrist and tugged him towards the elevator.
Normally, during the regular season, the team had the choice of staying at their own homes the night before games, but for the playoffs, Aidan and Nate had made the executive decision that they all needed to stay in the hotel.
Lane hadn’t worried about it, but now he was convinced he needed to figure out a way to sneak into Trevor’s room.
“Yeah, just . . . you think anyone’s gonna know if you don’t sleep in your room tonight?” Lane asked.
Trevor tilted his head up, grinning. “Oh, yeah, is that how it’s gonna be?” Like it was just like any other evening.
“Well, yeah,” Lane said. Before five minutes ago he hadn’t even really considered where Trevor was going to sleep. But obviously, Trevor was going to be sleeping next to him. He loved him. Holy shit.
“Maybe you should sneak into my room,” Trevor said, smirking. “Since normally, we share your room.”
It had never mattered to Lane less which room it was, as long as it was Trevor next to him in the bed. “Sure,” he said.
Trevor just laughed. “You sure you’re okay? Nervous?”
“No, not at all,” Lane lied. “We have this. We’re gonna get it done.”
Twelve hours later, he wished he’d been a little less confident sounding.