the captaincy and shove it, Wes was cleaning out his locker and going home. He wasn’t going to play anymore, because he wasn’t going to take the risk of the world finding out that—
That he loved Justin.
Swans fluttered on the disquiet waters of his soul, cast ripples across the hollows of his heart. What price are you willing to pay for your love? If he didn’t play football, his scholarship was gone. If his scholarship was gone, he wouldn’t even have enough money to fill up his gas tank to drive back to West Texas. He’d be homeless before the day was over, the money in his pocket—about four dollars and three euros—all he had to his name. And a credit card bill for two grand looming, thanks to Paris and the best date he’d ever been on.
He’d have nothing. Less than nothing. No future. No hope. Everything he’d worked for since he was six years old, gone.
Was three perfect weeks with the man of his dreams enough to outweigh the length and breadth of his lifelong goals? Did loving Justin replace the tears in his dad’s eyes when he opened his scholarship letter? His mama had died knowing that when he graduated, football would take him out of their little town, bring him to the wide world, open all his doors. Did loving one man wipe away everyone’s hopes for him?
What did he want?
He was made to love the white swan.
Justin. He wanted Justin.
But he couldn’t. He couldn’t. Not like this. Not with the risks. Not with reporters and NFL scouts and obsessed stalkers and wheelbarrows full of toxic hate. Not with everything, every single thing in his life, on the line.
You can bring all these boys with you, all the way to glory.
Wes squeezed his hands into fists and dug his forehead against the metal rim of the garbage can. Glory had never been what he wanted. He wanted a future. He wanted to see his dad smile as Wes walked across that stage and accepted his college diploma. He wanted to love a man and be loved in return.
He couldn’t have what he wanted. Not in this lifetime, it seemed. His shoulders were only large enough to carry everyone else’s dreams, not his own. Not in his broken world.
You can have everything you ever dreamed of.
No, he couldn’t. Maybe everyone else could. Maybe everyone else could realize their dreams of the NFL, could reach for those elusive stars and grab the future, but Wes had already had a taste of his dreams come true. He’d already held everything he’d ever wanted in his two hands.
Maybe Paris was all he’d ever have. Maybe that was it. One moment in time. One study abroad. One summer love.
Now he had to return to reality. Obligations. Responsibilities. Ties that bound him to others, to something bigger than the cries of his heart. The hunger of his soul.
Justin… I love you.
And I’m so, so sorry.
He dragged himself to his feet and wiped the back of his arm across his mouth. Stuck his hat back on his head and punched the elevator call button. Waited, tapping his foot, forcing his mind to go blank. Blank as the hum of the starting line, the whoosh of his own breath, inhaling, exhaling. Forced the world to narrow until all he could see was the rectangle of the world through his helmet and the bars of his face guard.
He was back in his truck, pointed west on the highway, when the tears started to fall.
Chapter Eight
Justin floated through his parents’ house, sipping a margarita from the pitcher his mom had made for the three of them. His parents were in the backyard, sunning themselves by the pool, laughing as they grew steadily more tipsy. The sun was sinking through the afternoon sky, and Justin was counting each degree it fell, adding up the minutes like sand in an hourglass. Wes would be back at campus by now. Meeting with his coach. Or finishing up. Justin had no idea how long football meetings went. His entire experience with football coaches was based on Hollywood and highlights from ESPN, middle-aged men bellowing on the sidelines as they mouthed f-bombs on live TV.
Wes would be texting him again any minute.
They’d traded texts when Wes was in New York and Justin was still waiting for his luggage. Wes was exhausted and grumpy, but he’d sent Justin a selfie from his gate, valiantly trying to smile through his baggy eyes and