Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 73794 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73794 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Openly out, comfortable enough to hold hands at a high school football field, zero fucks to give about people’s opinions as they went about their day. Together. What would it be like to be in a non-sneaky relationship? I had absolutely no clue, and I needed to stop staring at my friends and return my attention to the play I was attempting to teach the team.
“Faking out the defense means being convincing.” My tone was academic, not like I’d spent all damn summer pretending Caleb and I were only friends and coworkers. If anyone could teach a good fake-out, it was me. I pointed at John. “You need to follow through. Make me believe you’re one hundred percent going to run in the other direction.”
Holding the ball, I tried to demonstrate selling the play, much to the team’s laugher.
“Acting is Rowan’s gig, not mine,” John grumbled. “But okay, let’s try it again.”
“Way to go,” I cheered as the play left the defensive line in shambles. “Elliot and Cosmo, remember your job is to protect the quarterback at all costs. Don’t watch John. Don’t worry about anyone else’s job but yours.”
“Eyes on your own paper.” Cosmo rolled his eyes as he managed to sound exactly like his mother. But it was good advice and a reminder for me as well. I needed to stop watching other’s lives and wondering what-if and simply worry about my own life and the job I was trying to do.
“Damn, that was a good play.” Stu, the art teacher filling in as defensive coordinator, ambled over as practice wrapped up. “You’re sure good at getting a great effort from the team.”
“He’s a great coach.” Angel laughed lightly as she made her way down from the stands while the team headed to the locker room. She set her water bottle and oversized tote on the bench near me, clearly intending to corner me for some after-practice talk.
“Eh. I’m just a fill-in until Coach is at full strength. And I only volunteered to coach the student team for the fundraiser charity game, so I wouldn’t have to risk my shoulder playing on the alumni side.”
“Smart thinking.” Angel rubbed my bum shoulder with a light but expert touch. “Carrying heavy packs for your firefighter fitness exam isn’t going to do your shoulder any favors either.”
“I’ll be okay.” I stepped away from her, the thought of the upcoming academy and exams filling me with a dread I’d spent the past few weeks trying to understand. The worry was a greasy feeling, heavy and slippery and icky, and I couldn’t dwell on it too long without feeling nauseated.
The last time I’d felt this unmoored was after my shoulder injury, stuck at community college, trying to make ends meet and figure out a future for myself, and I hated it.
“It would be okay if you weren’t okay.” Angel held my gaze with shrewd eyes.
“Eh. That’s what ice packs and painkillers are for,” I joked, but Angel didn’t laugh.
“You don’t always have to be the strong one, Tony.” Her voice was just this side of preachy. “Sometimes it’s okay to not be okay, and I don’t just mean your damn shoulder.”
“Thanks for the PSA.” I snapped before softening my tone. “Sorry. I know that saying, but your care is always appreciated.”
“But do you really get it?” Angel mused as she stowed her water bottle in her large teal tote bag and headed for the parking lot. I wasn’t sure when she’d become smarter than me, and I wasn’t sure I liked it. I was supposed to be the big brother. It was easy enough to say that someone didn’t have to be stoic, but the reality of others’ expectations meant a lot of people, myself included, counted on my holding it together.
As I looked away from Angel, I caught sight of Caleb assembling canopies for the weekend’s fundraiser with a few others from the decorating committee. He was the one place on earth where I didn’t have to be strong. No pretending. No faking other than the hiding our hook-up thing. With him, when we were alone, I felt more myself than I had the forty-two years prior. And Caleb didn’t care if I was strong.
I’d freaked out on him after the hiking accident rescue, but he hadn’t judged, nor had he run away. If anything, I was the one holding back. The comfort I felt with Caleb was also dangerous. And not the fun kind of risk either. What if I let my guard down and couldn’t pull it back when needed? I wore my stoicism like a mask I couldn’t chance dropping. But with Caleb, for the first time, I wondered who I might be without it.
“Hey, Coach.” Eric wandered over, taking Angel’s place on the bench near me. He was still in uniform, with the look of someone who hadn’t slept in two days.