He hesitated for a moment, watching me from across the room. “Been callin’ ya all day. You’re my son. It’s Thanksgiving.” His voice had a softer lilt that almost made me think he was sincere, but then he added, “I ran into some trouble…owe a few people some money.”
“No.” My jaw tightened. For a moment, I’d expected something else, something more, which was really fucking stupid. He’d never cared about me.
“Goddamn it, Warner.”
“Goddamn it you! You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to call me all day on Thanksgiving just because you ran out of other options for cash. Maybe try not gambling your shit away, or whatever it is you do!” This wasn’t how parents were supposed to be.
“There you go, thinking you’re better than me again. Perfect fucking Warner Ramsey. One of these days you’re gonna have your fall from grace.”
That right there was the exact reason I feared what would have happened if he’d caught us today. Because he held his failures against me. He blamed me for making different choices than he did, and because of that, he would want to see me fail. Or hell, I could even see him selling us out for cash. “What happened to you? I can’t wrap my head around treating your own son the way you do.”
He flinched, a wave of what almost looked like sadness washing over his features. Then he said, “Your arm was weak in the fourth quarter of your last game.” And just like always, hurricane Mike Ramsey stormed into my life, before walking out, leaving a wreck in his wake. I stared at the door he’d slammed closed.
“Fuck.”
I waited a few minutes, giving him enough time to drive away, then grabbed my keys and phone and headed to Houston’s. My fingers drummed against the steering wheel the whole drive.
Houston answered the door, took one look at me, and asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothin’.” Shit. Houston was going to kick my ass. He’d told me to be careful, that he didn’t want his brother hurt. I’d promised we could keep this under wraps, but clearly, we couldn’t.
“Liar.”
“Is G here?” He’d only left my place an hour ago, but maybe he’d gone somewhere else.
Houston frowned. “Yeah, come in.” He stepped out of the way. “He’s in his room.”
“Thanks, man. I’ll talk to you soon. I just gotta…”
“You gotta talk to your boyfriend.”
“He’s not my boyfriend.” We weren’t complicating this even more with titles like that, despite my feelings for him, which kept growing, somehow beyond my control.
Concern furrowed Houston’s brows, but I just shook my head and made my way to Garrett’s temporary space. I knocked, and he shouted to come in, probably assuming it was his brother. I opened the door. Garrett was lying on his bed with his phone. He looked up, gaze colliding with mine, smiled, then sobered. “What did that motherfucker do?”
Okay, well, that was sweet. “You want to defend my honor again?” He’d wanted to do that the last time my dad had stopped by.
He sat up. “Yeah. I mean, that’s how I do it. I’m badass that way.” Garrett stood and walked over, pushed the door closed, and slipped his arms around my waist. “What’s wrong? Did he see something?”
A long pause stretched between us, one where a kaleidoscope of emotions crossed Garrett’s face.
“I don’t think so. He said I needed to be careful spending so much time with you because that’s how rumors get started.”
“I’m sorry. I should have been more careful. I shouldn’t have kissed you.”
“It’s not your fault. Last I checked, we were kissing each other.” I let go of him, paced the room. With each passing second, I got more and more pissed, more and more worried. “That was close, G. Really fucking close.”
“I know. What do you think he would do? If he’d seen?” I looked at him, and he cursed, knowing the answer. “Hello, scandal. Sell the story to the highest bidder?”
I shrugged. “I would hope not, but you can’t be sure. I should just come out.”
“What would that do, though? It doesn’t fix the fact that we’re players on the same NFL team. That we don’t know what management would do. That Coach specifically told you to keep this under wraps and not to let it get out. That we’re heading into the end of the season and—”
“Not helping, G.” I gave him a small smile, which he returned, almost sadly.
“What do we do? How do you want to move forward?”
Wasn’t that just the question of the day.
22
GARRETT
“We can figure this out, Rams.”
He gave me a long look, but I kept my gaze steady even as a slew of emotions stormed through me. I didn’t know what it was like to have a parent like Ramsey’s dad. I’d been fortunate to have the support and unconditional love of mine, and as I sat there and thought about it, I realized that maybe that was part of why a big flashy house and lots of expensive toys no longer mattered as much to me. What mattered were the people in my life who supported me. That included Ramsey. And I hated the stress I could see in his eyes and weighing down his shoulders.