“Just a family thing.”
Part of me was begging, pleading to tell him, to open up and spill it all out, but I didn’t.
Both Brad and Nolan tried to call me the next day, and the day after that. I didn’t answer.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Danny
It had been almost two weeks since our initial practice. Our first game was the next day. It was at the same field we practiced at, so close to home. We’d never have to travel more than an hour, but it was nice to be able to just go right up the street. I was excited, but it felt a little off because Elijah wouldn’t be there. He didn’t know about the team. I knew Jonathan hadn’t told Will—the why of that I didn’t understand, but he hadn’t. At the same time, it didn’t surprise me. Jonathan kept things to himself. He was the kind of guy who didn’t let people in or ask for help. He wasn’t like me. He wouldn’t reach out to his friends to support him. Jonathan wouldn’t want to draw attention to himself.
So I kept the team from Elijah, but I couldn’t continue to do that.
Hell, I hadn’t seen Elijah at all over the past couple of weeks. Between work and practice, it had been crazy. Still, Jonathan and I spent a lot of time together, had dinner together every night, and were working our way through every season of Gold Rush. He’d been talking to Mark too, but they hadn’t gone out yet. They texted often. I’d look over while we were watching television, and he’d be tapping away on his phone. Mark brewed his own beer. Jonathan liked to drink beer. Mark owned a construction company. Jonathan had too. Mark was a rough-around-the-edges guy, same as Jonathan, only a little more in the bear territory. I was happy for him. This was what I’d wanted. Jonathan needed queer friends, all different kinds of queer friends, but sometimes I felt a little…funny too. A little bit twisty inside and annoyed, wanting to snatch his phone from his hand and say, Pay attention to me!
It was totally fucked up. I’d been working on trying to figure out how to cut that shit out.
It was Saturday now, and I was bored at home. Jonathan was at work. I didn’t want to hit up Elijah because then I’d have to actively keep tomorrow’s game from him—which also nixed Shaw, Will, Jameson, and our friend Brooklyn.
So I spent my time trying to think of something new I could get Jonathan to do with me tonight. I hadn’t been pushing the whole one-experience-a-week thing with him, but tonight would be good to dip our toes in the water. Since tomorrow we had our first game, I didn’t want to do anything too wild like hitting up a club and making him dance with me all night.
I looked around online to see what summer activities were going on. There was a queer movie night at one of the outdoor theaters. That was perfect. I doubted Jonathan had ever even watched a queer movie before. We could pack up some food, drinks, and a blanket to sit in the grass and watch a movie.
I fucked around the apartment for most of the day. It was just after five thirty when the door opened and Jonathan came in.
“Hi, honey. I’m home.” He winked. It had become a little inside joke between us, one I hadn’t expected Jonathan to use with me the way I did with him.
“I’ve been so bored without you all day. You just leave me here in this apartment with nothing to do,” I teased, turning off the television.
“Poor baby. Want a drink?”
“Nah, I’m good.” He always asked things like that when he got himself something—if I wanted a drink or a snack.
Jonathan plucked a glass from the cabinet, filled it with water, then came over and sat on the couch beside me. “How was your day?”
“Fine. Hung out around the house. Not much too exciting. You?” I was looking forward to telling him about tonight, but I’d noticed Jonathan often did a rundown of the day with me, like he was interested in what I’d done while we were apart and wanted to share his with me.
“Built some furniture. Delivered some furniture. You know, same ole.” He took a drink, then ran his finger over the edge of his glass. I’d learned some of Jonathan’s tells already. He was stalling because he had something else he wanted to say, but the words didn’t come as easily to him as they would to me.
“What’s up, chicken butt?” I nudged him with my leg.
“Chicken butt?”
“Staller McStallerson.”
“Always with the name-calling.” He took another drink, then said, “I’m meeting Mark for dinner tonight.”
Oh. I tried to ignore the disappointment rumbling inside me. I wasn’t supposed to feel that. I was supposed to be happy for him. Jonathan deserved this. “That’s a good thing, right? He’s hot.”