bawled me out plenty of times and run me until I puked.
As I made my way down the hallway, I tried to talk myself down from the cliff. Every part of me wanted to find Coach Vining and lay him out.
“Take a breath,” Sam said.
My thoughts pinged around in my head like an exploding bag of Skittles. I didn’t even know where to start. “Why does he even care?” I wondered out loud.
“Optics?” Sam suggested. “That’s all I can figure. I’m not sure what angle bothers him, though. Is it the player with coach’s son thing or the star player being publicly gay thing?”
“But I’ve been out the whole time,” I argued.
“Not the same thing as being in an actual gay relationship. There will be photos of you together. It would mean putting your sexuality in people’s faces. The media would have a field day.”
I lowered my voice as I made my way to the locker room. “The media already has a fucking field day with my sexuality. How is this any different?”
My hands were shaking with the familiar rush of adrenaline, and I knew I needed to calm down if I had any chance of playing well in the game.
“I need to talk to him,” I said.
“Do not confront Coach V. right now,” Sam warned.
“No. I mean Mikey. I need to talk to him. Ask him if this is why he’s been avoiding me.”
“Feeling like you already know the answer to that. Calm down, play your game. Focus on your job right now.”
He was right. I knew that, but I also knew I needed to hear Mikey’s voice. I needed him to tell me he wasn’t going to let his father get in the way of how we felt about each other.
“Okay,” I said finally.
Sam let out a breath and sounded resigned. “You’re going to go off half-cocked.”
“Pretty much.”
“Don’t fuck up your career while you’re angry. Promise me.”
He was a good friend to both of us, and I valued his advice. “I promise. I just want to make sure Mikey’s okay.”
“Then call him. Tell him you love him and you’ll call him back after the game to talk about it. Then go out there and kick ass, alright?”
I wasn’t going to tell Mikey I loved him for the first time over the phone. After our strange final night together, his sneaking out the next morning to catch his flight, and his lack of availability to even talk on the phone this week, I had no idea how he was feeling about us. Not knowing had me completely fucked-up. And now this.
“Thanks, Sam. I really appreciate it.”
“Good luck.”
After the call, I headed toward my locker to stash my bag and peel off my jacket. Everyone I passed cheered or thumped me on the back to tell me how happy they were to have me back in the starting line. I smiled and nodded, murmuring my thanks until I got to the bench in front of my locker. I pulled out my phone and saw the text from Mikey to call him after the game.
Thank god. I didn’t want to wait. I dialed Mikey’s number as my heart thumped nervously, and Markus shot me another pissy look from across the locker room where he was talking to Antone.
“Michael Vining,” Mikey said breathlessly when he picked up. I could hear wind and people talking, so I assumed he was outside or maybe in the car.
“Hey, baby,” I said, closing my eyes to drink in the sound of his familiar voice. I missed him terribly.
“Tiller?” Mikey sounded surprised. “I thought you had a game. What time is it?”
“I’m in the locker room, but I wanted to catch you really quick before I dressed out. God, it’s so good to hear your voice. How’s your trip so far?” I wasn’t sure why I was starting with a stupid question, but it just popped out. Maybe I needed another minute to get the balls to ask him about his dad.
Mikey hesitated. “Good. I’m on my way to give…” The rest of his words were muffled. I stuck a finger in my other ear to block out the noise from the guys around me.
“What? I didn’t hear that last part.”
“Sorry, was asking Truman to wait a minute. I’m just dropping—” The sudden sound of a car honk followed by screeching tires came through the line. It was followed by a gasp and Mikey’s scream, the loud clatter of the phone hitting the pavement, and then muffled