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)
“I don’t either.” Caleb looked near tears again, face flushed blotchy pink. To me, though, he’d never looked better. Relief that he hadn’t shot me down made me release a giddy half-laugh. “The last thing I want is to give up what we have, but either of us giving up our career is a bad idea. I don’t want to start a relationship with that kind of guilt.”
“I get it. I wouldn’t want you to quit. But I might have a new plan. One of those unexpected changes.”
“Oh?” Caleb rested his hands on my shoulders, sounding more curious than skeptical.
“Coach Willard has the funds to pay a coaching staff and asked me to be an assistant and hopefully take over as coach next year when he retires. Of course the board would have to approve, and I might have to get a post-bachelor’s teaching certificate to qualify for a full-time position. Nothing guaranteed.” I was back to hedging, but my cautious excitement crept into my tone.
“But you’d want to do the job?” Caleb peered down at me. “You sure are good at working with the kids.”
“Yeah, the best part of my summer other than you has been the bit of fill-in coaching I’ve done. And the fundraising was actually kind of fun. I could see doing more of that.”
“Why do I feel like there’s a catch?” Caleb tilted his head.
“Well…” I sucked on my parched lower lip. “I probably couldn’t publicly come out.”
“Says who?” Caleb’s eyes flared wide as he looked ready to charge into battle for me.
“No one. There’s no official policy or anything. But it’s one of those situations like professional sports or certain military positions where it’s easier to keep things…discreet.”
“Welcome to the twenty-first century, Sargeant Capo.” Caleb’s sarcastic tone made my chest pinch deep inside, somewhere near that under-used heart of mine. “There are gay SEALs, out minor leaguers in a number of sports, and more than a couple of pros and retired pros. The days of needing to stay closeted are over. So when you say easier, I have to ask, easier for whom?”
“Everyone.” I knew that wasn’t the answer he wanted, so I spoke faster. “You included. You’d be shielded from gossip that we started something as coworkers.”
“You don’t think that ship has sailed?” He gave me a razor-sharp look, one I had to glance away from to have any hope of continuing.
“The way I see it, we’d be an open secret. Like people close to us would know—”
Caleb cut me off with a loud snort. “This isn’t some 1950s period drama. I’m not here to be confirmed bachelors with anyone or jump through hoops to deny who I am or who I’m with.”
“So, what? We end things regardless of working together? Because I don’t like that idea at all.”
“Me either.” Caleb’s tone had taken on a weary, long-suffering tone I flat-out hated. “Last I knew, you didn’t like relationships at all, and maybe that’s why you can stomach staying closeted. It’s no biggie to you, but for me, I promised myself once I was free of my bullies that I would never again make myself smaller to fit in.”
“I just don’t want to rock the boat in terms of the football community.” I held up my hands.
“Then don’t, but leave me out of it.” He swung back over to the driver’s seat in a surprisingly fluid motion. “I understand. You don’t want the scrutiny of being an openly bisexual coach in a macho sport. I don’t have to like it, but I understand that’s not the easiest of roads.”
“Then why not—”
He cut me off by turning on the truck. “Look, if you want to be together, openly, honestly, then let’s find a way, but your big idea isn’t it. Not for me.”
“I get it.” I exhaled hard, hand moving to the door handle. “You deserve a public relationship.”
“The sad thing is that so do you, but you can’t see it. You hid such a huge part of yourself for so many years. I’m not sure you really comprehend what you’re willing to give up.”
“I don’t want to lose you.” It was my last, desperate appeal. “That’s the thing I don’t want to give up.”
“Tony—” Caleb reached for my arm, but as soon as he touched my biceps, his phone shrieked from the console.
“Fucking timing.” He glanced at the incoming message. “Someone had to call out with food poisoning. The station needs me to cover a shift. Sorry, but I have to go.”
“No, I’m the one who’s sorry.” I leaned in to give him one—and I refused to call it last—kiss. “This isn’t how either of us wants to end things. Give me a chance to think. Don’t give up on us yet.”
“I’m not sure I could truly give up on you even if I tried.” Caleb groaned. “But I really do have to go. We’ll talk soon.”