Coach walked right up into their faces. He peered at Colton first, then turned to Wes. He peeled off his sunglasses and eyed the fading bruises on Wes’s face and neck. They were deep in the bile and putrid lime stage, and he looked like a child’s bad face-painting project. His neck was still purple, that wide belt band vivid. It looked worse than it felt, though. Wes held his ground as Coach looked him over.
He slid his sunglasses back on. “Well,” he said. “You two finally decided to show up for practice, huh?”
“Yes, Coach,” Wes said.
“Good. Seems to me like you’ve got a few people to prove wrong. Some people need their own shit shoveled right back at them. And there’s no better way to do that than to win.”
Wes’s heart squeezed. “Coach, the NCAA. Am I still eligible?”
“That horseshit.” Coach waved his hand like he was swatting a fly. “I talked those weenies off their little panicked cliff edge. They dropped the investigation. There wasn’t anything there to begin with.”
Colton sagged into Wes, a relieved laugh bursting from him as he buried his forehead against Wes’s pad-covered shoulder.
“Are you playing, Van de Hoek? You still on this team?”
Maybe this was all the apology he’d get from Coach. A welcome home, with open arms. No questions. “Yes, Coach. We want that title.”
“Then you guys will earn it. Together.” Coach took a few steps back. The rest of the team was jogging out of the tunnel to the field. He checked his watch, then put his hands to his mouth and started hollering. “All right, let’s move! Let’s move! Hurry it up, gentlemen! You’ve got a goddamn national championship to win! Let’s get to work!”
Chapter Thirty-Three
“What do you think about this one, Dad?”
Nick poked his head into the second spare bedroom, then crossed to the sliding glass doors that led to the balcony that ran the width of the entire apartment. The unit was in an ultramodern high-rise downtown. From the balcony, he could see Sixth Street and the bars and music halls, and the river and the greenbelt beyond. At night, the city would spread out like glitter, surrounded by a river of midnight as the landscape turned to country and rolling hills.
“I like it.”
They’d looked at apartments all morning, from suburban complexes near the train line to units just outside downtown. This was the only one that actually was downtown. It was totally different from anything else they’d seen, and different in every way from the house that Nick had shared with Cynthia, the house Justin had grown up in. No granite counters or shiny wood floors. Here the floors and walls were expanses of polished concrete, and stainless steel counters and cupboards lined the kitchen.
The rental agent gave him the pricing details again, then stood back and let him poke into closets and open and close drawers in the bathrooms and kitchens. Could he live here? It would feel empty when he was alone, but maybe Justin and Wes would come over for a break from their dorms. He was looking for a three-bedroom apartment specifically so they’d have a place to stay, if they wanted to. And when they weren’t over, he could sit on the balcony and enjoy the view. Or he could go out himself. Walk to the bars or the live music lounges. Maybe, one day, he’d even meet someone.
That thought was too new, too raw, to hold on to. He let it go, focusing instead on Justin and Wes coming to visit. He could grill on the balcony. Maybe they’d watch football on Sundays. Justin and he could finally enjoy a game together. He’d wanted to have that father-son moment with Justin since Justin was old enough to toddle around after him.
What did Justin envision? What did he want from Nick, now that they were actually building a real relationship?
There was so much he didn’t know about his son that he desperately wanted to. What did Justin do for fun? What filled up his days and his weekends? Why had he picked nursing as his major? What did he imagine his life would look like?
This was the closest apartment to campus—a ten-minute walk. It was the most expensive he’d looked at, but what did that matter if it meant Justin and Wes could stop by, pop in, hang out? If he could see Justin more, it didn’t matter what the place cost. He’d empty his bank account in