Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 88402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
“Bisexual,” Ronald amended. “The point is, Conners is our future. You and I both know that. The kid is fucking good, but…he’s not ready, and he’ll be amazing with your guidance.”
I let out a heavy breath. Fuck yes.
“Can I say something?” Coach said, and when Ronald nodded, he added, “You’re the heart of this team, Darren. The way you spoke to them at halftime, the way you inspired them, the way you make everyone laugh and want to work harder, the way you joke and smile? It puts people at ease. You’re not only a damn good football player, you’re a leader. You make people want to be better. The team looks up to you. I look up to you too.”
Holy. Fucking. Shit. Coach wasn’t known for getting emotional unless it was anger when we fucked up or pride when we won.
“That’s what we’re looking for,” Ronald continued. “It ain’t gonna be easy and not everyone—fans and players both—are going to be happy about this decision, but we believe in you. We want the heart of our team for one more season. We want you to do your thing, fucking win and help teach Conners what it takes to be a champion—how to close a championship, how to keep your cool in a tough situation, how to hold your head high and play with pride.”
“I…” Didn’t know what to say. That was how they saw me?
“How much?” Mia asked, and they gave her a number. I was worth more, and it was only one year, but that didn’t matter to me. I wanted to play at home. I wanted to win with Anson. I wanted the two queer guys to take it all the fucking way, and we would.
I wanted one more season of being the heart of this team.
“Are you going to help us shut the haters up and give us one more year in Atlanta?” Ronald asked.
Mia began, “We’ll discuss it and—”
“Yes,” I cut her off. I didn’t care about the money. I didn’t need more. This was what I wanted.
“I guess that’s a yes,” my sister added.
There were more discussions after that, but honestly, I didn’t fucking care, and I tuned it all out. I was going to play in Atlanta for another year. Yeah, I could get another contract somewhere else afterward if I wanted, I believed that, but I knew I wouldn’t. I was going to finish my career where I started, and I was going to finish with a motherfucking Super Bowl championship, with my best friend playing with me, and with the man I loved there to support me.
The second the meeting was over, I rushed to the waiting room. Jeremy shoved to his feet, concern etched into worry lines on his face, but when he looked into my eyes, he smiled, because he knew.
I went to him, hugged him, and picked him up. “Atlanta or Atlanta?”
“You and your questions game.”
“Which one do you choose?”
“You realize you said the same thing, don’t you?”
“Answer,” I joked.
“Wherever you are.”
I liked the sound of that. “We did it. We fucking did it our way.”
“I knew it! I fucking knew it! God, I’m so proud of you.”
“I’m so in love with you,” I told him. I would never get over saying those words to him, feeling them. Anson had told me once that when he and West first got together, West hadn’t wanted love but had fallen anyway. That hadn’t been me because I’d never thought I was capable of that kind of love. Until Jeremy.
This was just the beginning, and I couldn’t wait to see what the future held for us.
Epilogue
Jeremy
Two years later
“Stay still,” I told Darren as I began running the clippers over his head. I liked buzzing his hair for him. I didn’t know what it was, but there was something that was really fucking hot about it. He liked it too, so it was a win-win for both of us.
“Why you so bossy?” he teased.
“Why do you pretend you don’t like it?”
“Because I gotta give you shit or I wouldn’t be me, and you gotta like it or you wouldn’t be you.”
Not gonna lie, he had a point.
“True.” We were quiet then, me working on his head while Darren checked social media for You Belong Too, the second location we’d opened up in Atlanta.
The last two years had been a whirlwind of changes.
The Lightning had won the Super Bowl the last year of Darren’s and Anson’s contracts. It hadn’t been easy or perfect. Atlanta’s ticket sales had been down at the beginning of the season. Ugly remarks were all over the internet, and Newman had requested a trade. They’d lost their first three games of the regular season, which hurt them and upset the team. Darren had blamed himself, thinking maybe he should have just retired. He hadn’t wanted to screw up Anson’s last season for him either, but Anson hadn’t wanted any of that. He’d said he wanted to play with Darren and that was all that mattered. Some of the guys had blamed Darren and Anson both, saying the media attention and all was disruptive, but they’d found a way to bring the team together. They’d silenced the haters by winning the rest of the games of the season, and then became champions again.