Love Match (Love Match 1)

Luke barked out a laugh, sharp-edged. “You have a choice. And you’re making it. I guess I’m not important enough to you.”

“Is that what you really think? I love you, Luke. I want to be with you. But not like this. Don’t you see? We deserve more.” Jesse cried, tears flowing freely. “Aren’t you sick of all the lies?”

“I didn’t make the rules! We live in a world that doesn’t accept us! I’m just doing what I have to do to get by, to be a success.”

“Luke, you’re a champion. No one can ever take that away from you!”

“You think I’d have six-figure endorsements if everyone knew I was queer? That’s not how the world works! Stop being so fucking naïve.”

“I’m not.” Jesse clenched his jaw and wiped away the rest of his tears. “I’m just not misanthropic like you are. The world’s changing, Luke. I’m not saying it would be easy, but not everyone hates us. Not by a long shot.”

“You’re young,” Luke scoffed. “You think you can change the world. You’ll see. You have to look out for yourself.”

“You’re right. I do.” He took a deep breath and walked to the front door. He stopped, his hand on the knob. His shoulders shook and he whispered, “I’m going miss you so much.”

Luke wanted to haul him back, refuse to let him go. The thought of living without him was terrifying and nausea coursed through his body, almost brought him to his knees.

But he said nothing.

“See ya.” Jesse left without looking back.

Luke’s legs wavered and he grabbed the wall for support. He slid down slowly, leaning back. The setting sun cast long shadows, and soon darkness settled in. Luke watched the patterns on the wall, the trees outside dappling the moonlight. He concentrated on breathing, the hollow feeling in his chest making every inhalation a struggle.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The next few weeks dragged by unbearably. Every day Luke fought the urge to call Jesse, to try to talk him around. Jesse was being crazy, thinking that he could just come out and be welcomed with open arms. Life wasn’t like that, certainly not as a male professional athlete.

Luke worked out with Aaron and steadfastly refused to discuss the situation with him. Eventually, Aaron stopped bringing it up and they worked out mostly in silence. Luke’s mother had tried to talk to him about Jesse, too, but gave up.

They just didn’t understand.

Everyone down at the club assured him they didn’t believe the ridiculous gossip, but Luke saw the way they looked at him, the way conversations would stop when he walked by. Most importantly, Mike hadn’t been able—or willing—to practice with him in a week. At first it was a missed session here and there, but now as the days passed and Mike didn’t call, Luke knew something was up. He should never have told Mike the truth. No matter how open-minded most people thought they were, reality often told a different story.

Some would call him paranoid, but Luke preferred to think of it as being practical. He understood the way the world worked, even if others wanted to believe differently. Thankfully, the press had stopped coming around and had moved on to the next celebrity scandal they could exploit. Luke was glad to be able to answer the phone again.

Of course, every time it rang he hoped it was Jesse.

As Luke pulled into his driveway one night, his headlights illuminated his mother’s red Honda. She wasn’t inside, so for once she must have used her key. Luke sighed. He should have been happy to see his mother, but he was afraid he was in for another lecture.

“Mom?” He closed the front door behind him and dropped his tennis gear at the foot of the stairs.

He heard the TV in the other room and found his mother on the couch. She muted the television, which was playing footage of one of Luke’s old matches.

“Hello, sweetheart.” Stephanie smiled up at him and Luke dropped a kiss on her cheek as he joined her on the couch.

“Don’t you have all these matches on tape at home?”

“Yes, but I haven’t watched any of them in ages.”

“What, you mean you don’t relive my greatest moments on a nightly basis? What kind of mother are you?” Luke teased.

“The kind with a life of her own who didn’t obsessively travel with you to every tournament when you were younger.”

“Thank god for that,” Luke said, shuddering. Tennis parents were notorious on the tour, often coaching and controlling every aspect of their child’s life—on and off the court. The problem was worse on the women’s side, but the men’s tour had its share of overbearing families.

They watched Luke playing on the screen in silence for a few moments. It was his Australian Open victory.

“I was always sorry I wasn’t there to see you win, Luke.”