“Shit, Tiller. I’m sorry. Does it mess up your playoff chances?” Mikey reached for the door and pulled it open, letting out the warmth and the fresh piney scent of the new Christmas tree. Oddly, it smelled like home. Like the kind of place I wished was our home. I wanted more days like this with Michael Vining. Days of snowy adventures and holiday decorating. Listening to him putter around in the kitchen while football was on the TV. Watching him laugh and try something new for the pure joy of it.
I wanted more time with him, full stop.
“Tiller?”
I looked up from kicking off my boots onto the nearby mat. “Yeah, uh… It depends on how everyone else does tonight and how the Titans do tomorrow night against the Chiefs, but we still have a shot at the division title. If the Titans win and we don’t want to rely on a wild card spot, we need to beat the Steelers which won’t be easy.”
My phone was ringing from farther inside where I’d left it on the kitchen counter. Mikey glanced in that direction and then sent me an understanding smile. “I’ll hop in the shower while you take your call.”
I leaned in and kissed his red nose, wanting so badly to tell him how much he meant to me, how incredibly special this time out of time was, and how I wanted desperately for it to become real when we got back to Houston.
But I didn’t. Instead, I made my way to the kitchen and swiped my phone before looking to see who it was.
“Where in the Sam Hill are you?” Coach shouted through the phone. “I been trying to get ahold of you for thirty fuckin’ minutes.”
I was shocked by the vitriol in his voice, but then I reminded myself how much pressure he was under to make the playoffs. The loss would be sitting on him hard.
“After I got off the phone with Gonzales, I went outside to cool off. Why? Did something happen?” God, please don’t let someone in Mikey’s family be hurt or sick. “Is everyone okay?”
“I even tried getting ahold of Mikey to see if he knew if you were even still in Denver.”
Warning flags began waving across my mental landscape. Of course Mikey wouldn’t have told him we were off together, just the two of us. Coach thought I was at home with my parents. “Oh ah… What did you need, Coach?”
“I need you. Get back here. This injured reserve bullshit isn’t working for me. We’ll have to figure something out.”
At first, I thought he was joking. “I thought Brent and Derek did a great job tonight. It looks like—”
“I don’t give a shit what you think. Just get back here in time for Sunday’s game against Pittsburgh. Tell your parents I’m sorry you can’t stay.”
He had to be joking. I still didn’t have full feeling in my hand. Winter had said I was improving, but I still had at least three weeks before I’d be healthy enough to even think about playing. He’d even mentioned possible nerve damage if I returned to the field too soon.
“Coach—”
When he cut me off, his voice was low and hoarse. No doubt he’d been screaming the second half of the game. “Just get back here.”
“Tiller!” Mikey cried, running into the room in nothing but a towel. In his hand was a familiar piece of brushed nickel from the bathroom sink. Thank god I wasn’t on a video call. “The faucet came off in my hand, and I can’t get the shutoff valve to turn!”
The silence from the other end of the line was chilling. “Is that my son?” he finally asked in a low murder voice.
“Yes, sir.”
My words caused Mikey to freeze in place. His eyebrows winged up so high, it would have been laughable if I didn’t feel like my stomach was going to turn inside out.
Coach’s voice was tightly controlled. Barely. “Put him on the phone.”
I took a deep breath and held the phone out to Mikey. Your dad, I mouthed unnecessarily.
He approached the phone like it was made out of stingers. After handing it to him, I leaned over and pressed a long kiss to the top of his head before taking the faucet handle from him and making my way to the bathroom.
Coach’s call was like a cooler full of ice water dumped on our time together, but not the celebratory kind that brought with it happiness and good tidings of great things to come. No, this was the regular kind of brutal wake-up call that reminded me why exactly we couldn’t be together.
I had a job to do. While this time in Aster Valley had been amazing, I couldn’t forget that my life was centered around football right now. I was under contract to the Riggers, and it was my job. Even if I wasn’t ready to get back in the game yet, Coach could demand my presence on the bench whenever he wanted and I had to go.
After turning the shutoff valve and screwing the faucet handle back on, I tested the sink and made a mental note to tell the real estate agent about it. Thinking about this place being under new ownership soon made me feel a little off. I had a fantasy of bringing Mikey back here one day to stay longer. He’d love it here in the summer when the wildflowers were in bloom and the wind meandered through the aspen trees. Maybe we needed to find another place in Aster Valley to rent during the off-season.
“I hate him.”
I spun around to see Mikey’s face flush with anger. His eyes shone with something closer to sadness and disappointment. I pulled him into a hug. “I’m sorry.”
“He doesn’t care about me at all, and I just… I don’t know why I keep trying.” His voice was muffled against my shirt, and his hands clutched at my sides.
I ran my hands in strong circles along his back. “What did he say?”
“He just… he thinks I’m…” He shook his head and stopped talking. I pulled back and tilted his chin up with my fingers.
“Tell me.”
“He thinks I’m following you around like a puppy. He said it’s pathetic.” His voice cracked. “He… he thinks I’m trying to find fame by association… like some kind of user? I think? He says it’s time for me to move on and find a new job.”
I felt my entire body begin to buzz with anger. “That’s absurd,” I bit out. “You’re the furthest thing from a user I’ve ever met. Hell, it took a year before you’d even let me pay for your coffee when we stopped by Starbucks.”
Mikey tried pulling away from me, but I held on tight. “Let me go,” he said. His chin was wobbly, and his eyes were blinking rapidly.
“No,” I said softly. “Never.”
He closed his eyes and leaned his face back into my chest. After a few deep breaths, he murmured, “I’m sorry.”
“For what? For your dad being an asshole? Me too. For people making jackass assumptions when they don’t know their ass from their elbow? Me too. For family butting their damned noses in where they don’t belong? Me fuckin’ too.”
I tried to stay gentle with him, but inside I seethed. How dare Coach Vining make Mikey feel small when he’d already spent his entire life trying to fill impossibly large shoes?
Mikey sniffed and looked back up at me. “Do you want to get drunk in the hot tub?”
I barked out a laugh and then snuck in a quick kiss because his lips looked too tasty to resist. “Absolutely. Let’s go.”
It took him exactly two and a half glasses of crisp white wine and three repeats of Billie Eilish’s “Therefore I Am” played at top volume on the Bluetooth speaker to loosen up.