The Quarterback: An M|M Sports Romance (The Team - MM Sports Romances Book 2) Read online

  The Quarterback

  Tal Bauer

  This novel contains scenes of mature sexual content.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, Tal Bauer, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  First Edition

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Edited by Alicia Z. Ramos

  Copyright © 2021 Tal Bauer

  Cover Art by Tal Bauer © Copyright 2021

  Published in 2021 by Tal Bauer

  United States of America

  ISBN: 9798454757106

  For Maria.

  Thank you for everything.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Epilogue

  Stay in Touch

  Excerpt from The Murder Between Us

  Also by Tal Bauer

  Chapter One

  Tuxedos and tablecloths. Flickering candlelight. A big band in the corner, pouring out tunes.

  Justin looked amazing in his tuxedo. Wes, too, but Justin was his son, and it was the first time Nick had had the chance to see him dressed to the nines. The two of them were on the dance floor, Justin’s right hand over Wes’s heart, the fingers of his left twined with Wes’s as they swayed to the Glenn Miller cover. They were beaming and gazing into each other’s eyes. This is what their wedding will look like.

  Wes was shy about what he’d done on the field after the national championship game. He’d turned scarlet when Nick had asked him if that, him on the ground and offering Justin a football, was his marriage proposal. He’d fumbled his way through explaining that he’d wanted to commit to Justin in front of the whole world, and whether Justin called him his fiancé or his boyfriend, he was Justin’s for as long as Justin would have him. Then he’d fidgeted on the couch as Nick stared at him, the Texas wind coming up and over Nick’s balcony.

  “Dad, stop interrogating the love of my life,” Justin had said that night, and he’d winked at Wes, smirked at Nick, and not clarified a damn thing.

  It would happen, though. All Nick needed to do was spend three seconds watching Justin and Wes, and he could see the love between them. He’d never seen his son as happy as he was with Wes. Never in his whole life had Justin radiated such joy. Not even Christmas mornings as a child, or the birthday when Nick had surprised Justin with his first bicycle.

  It made his heart ache, seeing Justin so in love.

  Had he been that in love with his ex-wife all those years ago when they’d first fallen for each other? He thought he had been. He’d been in love enough to decide to propose. Marry, and forge a life together. A life that brought Justin into the world.

  There was nothing he cherished more than being Justin’s father.

  Hopefully he wouldn’t screw it up this time.

  He and Justin had had a close relationship… until Justin was about ten years old. Nick had been a good dad, he’d thought. Bicycle riding and Little League. Playing catch in the backyard, Lego in the loft. Trick-or-treating together every Halloween. And then Justin grew older, and… Nick hadn’t worked as hard as he should have to keep them close. Justin turned inward, hiding his secret until he’d exploded. Keeping his sexuality concealed had carved him off from his parents, put an impenetrable wall between them, one that stood for too many years.

  If he’d realized, if he’d suspected, he would have said something years ago. Would have tried to let Justin know, even if he had to take him by the shoulders and force his chin to raise, that there was nothing, not a single thing in the whole world that would end his love for his son.

  But he hadn’t realized, and Justin had withdrawn, and they’d lived separate lives in the same house, living around each other instead of together. Justin going off to college had seemed like the slow end to a long goodbye that began in middle school.

  And then things changed.

  Nick watched Wes twirl Justin in his arms, then tip him backward for a dip as the song came to an end. Wes beamed. Justin laughed, and as he rose, Wes’s arms wrapped around Justin’s waist and Justin’s hand cradled Wes’s cheek. They kissed, still smiling, as the crowd clapped. For the band, and maybe for Justin and Wes, too.

  They were, after all, the guests of honor.

  It was an evening celebrating Wes and his team’s national championship victory, along with the personal victories of all the other out college athletes who had played that season and any past season. LGBT+ organizations, ESPN, and even the NCAA had joined together to honor Wes and his fellow LGBT+ athletes—present and past—and memorialize those who had passed away in a first-of-its-kind reception. Out former professional athletes mingled with college athletes across the major sports: football, baseball, basketball, and hockey. Rainbow lights dazzled off rainbow bunting, strung in arcs across the high ballroom ceiling. Rainbow-dyed roses clustered in low vases on the dinner tables.

  “This is so wild, isn’t it?”

  The voice came from behind Nick. It was deep, but with a young man’s cadence. He turned and saw Colton Hall, the Texas quarterback and Wes’s best friend. Now, too, Justin’s good friend, after a shaky start.

  “I never imagined this is how our season would end.” Colton passed Nick a fresh beer and held his out for a toast.

  “Didn’t think you’d be national champions?”

  “I mean, I thought that.” Colton grinned, rolling his head sideways to Nick. One hand jiggled in the pocket of his tuxedo pants. “C’mon, we’re the best.”

  Nick laughed.

  “This is amazing,” Colton said, his voice softer. “I don’t think this could have happened four years ago. It should have, but…” He frowned, and his gaze found Wes and Justin, dancing still. “He deserves this. All of it.”

  “Justin?” Nick asked, sipping his beer.

  “Uh, I mean, of course, him, too.” Nick smiled as Colton stuttered, flushing. “I mean, he deserves to be recognized, of course, for who he is and supporting—”

  “I’m teasing you.” He clapped Colton on the shoulder. Colton grinned, relief crossing his face in a tidal wave. “They both do. Wes is an amazing player, and he’s been an exceptional leader on your team. And he’s a role model for other young gay athletes.”

  “Yeah. Justin is, too, though. He’s a great guy. Just the best.”

  Colton was still trying to fix his little slip. “I happen to think so.” Nick took another sip of beer, then turned back to the ballroom. “Where’s your date? Who’s here with you?”

  “No one.” Colton shrugged. “I’m not dating anyone. And my mom couldn’t make it
up. She’s a lawyer, and she’s got some big case to prepare for. What about you? Where’s your date?”

  Nick felt his smile fall short of his eyes. “No date for me, either.”

  Colton raised his beer bottle for another toast. “Bachelor life. Right on.”

  He clinked, and then they fell silent, watching Wes and Justin on the dance floor.

  So deeply in love. Would he find that again someday? He wasn’t ready to look yet, not so soon after separating from Cynthia. The hurt was still too fresh, like a deep bruise or an ache he couldn’t stretch out. The long, slow death of his marriage was worse than a quick gut punch. If Cynthia had gone out and had an affair, he could have ended things cleanly, used his anger to package up his past and then move on. But the gasping way they’d hung on even as they grew further and further apart, until Cynthia was a stranger to him, made it feel like he’d been torn in half from top to bottom.

  It was the betrayal that hit him hardest: the betrayal of who he’d thought Cynthia was as a person. He’d thought there was no way she could ever choose anything or anyone over her son. That she could never look at Justin and think he wasn’t wonderful, the best parts of the two of them combined. He was a handful, to be sure, but a good person, the kind of man Nick had lain awake at night and prayed his son would turn out to be.

  There was nothing in his entire life that matched the stab to his heart when Cynthia told him she thought their son was broken and needed to be fixed.

  There wasn’t any coming back from that moment. He loved Justin exactly as he was. Cynthia didn’t. And he wasn’t willing to share his life with someone who didn’t accept Justin. Cynthia wasn’t willing to change her beliefs, so there was nowhere for them to go but apart.

  He wasn’t ready to let anyone else in yet. Wasn’t ready to open himself up. The only thing that mattered to him now was the happiness he saw in Justin’s eyes every day.

  “You know,” Colton said, rocking back on his heels, “I tore up the gym in fifth-grade PE class when they made us learn swing dancing.”

  The music shifted to a faster beat, and couples began flying around the dance floor. Wes spun Justin in and out of his arms, pulled him close, laid him out in a back-bending dip.

  “Did you? My ex and I used to dance when we were dating. Swing, blues, ballroom. We were pretty good, way back in the day.” Then Justin was born, and there wasn’t time for dance nights or even dates anymore. But, huh. Was it any wonder Justin was a dancer now?

  “I won the Sugar Land Elementary All-Fifth-Grade Swing Championship,” Colton bragged. “You can’t top that.”

  Nick set his beer down behind him and held out his hand. “Put your money where your mouth is, and show me those skills.”

  Colton blinked.

  Colton, like Wes, had one of the most recognizable faces in college football. His picture was plastered on ESPN weekly. Almost daily. Everything he’d said, everything he’d done since Wes had been outed had been turned over, examined, dissected. After the national championship game, Wes and Colton had sat down for one joint interview with ESPN. More than what they said, how they’d interacted, the obvious connection between them, had solidified their public identities as inseparable brothers. And while support for Wes had been significant, and seemed to grow larger with each passing month, there were still those who despised Wes for who he was, who accused him of trying to change the culture of football. Who hated Colton, too, for his unwavering, unflinching public support of Wes and his place on the team.

  There had also been whispers and hateful rumors passed along internet forums and message boards: that Colton was Wes’s bitch, that he was as gay as Wes was, that the whole team was a bunch of pansies. That Colton was on his knees for Wes and he’d do anything Wes told him to do as long as they kept winning.

  None of it was true, but that didn’t matter. Hate didn’t need truth to spread like wildfire.

  But Nick still should know better. Stakes were higher for Colton than for him. And there was a difference between supporting your best friend on the field and on ESPN and by standing beside him at banquets, and taking the hand of another man and dancing with him in public. Nick was established, successful, and as secure in his identity as a recently divorced middle-aged man rebuilding his relationship with his formerly estranged son could be. He didn’t have newspapers and columnists following him, dissecting his grades and the beers he drank and the words he said, trying to pick out his personality through bits and pieces of his life.

  What was a simple, lighthearted, and friendly joke to Nick could be gasoline on the flames that consumed Colton’s reputation. Weeks of online fury. Eyebrows raised on ESPN. Maybe NFL teams looking past him in the draft. “Sorry,” he said, pulling his hand back. He shook his head, smiling an apology. “I was playing around, and I didn’t think that through. Maybe I’ve had one too many beers.”

  Colton downed the rest of his beer, holding Nick’s gaze. He dropped the bottle on the table, cleared his throat, and held out his hand. “Let’s do it,” he said. “Fuck ’em.”

  “Colton, I don’t want—”

  Colton waggled his hand in front of Nick. “Fuck the haters. It’s just for fun. And I’ve got my fifth-grade reputation to uphold.”

  Nick laughed again and took Colton’s hand, letting the younger man lead him to the dance floor. If it had been any other event, maybe people would have turned and stared, watching Colton walk hand in hand with another man. But they were among hundreds of same-sex couples, and no one batted an eye. Later, surely, the ripples would hit the internet.

  “Let’s go show Wes and Justin what real dancing is,” Colton said.

  They made their way over to Justin and Wes. Justin’s head whipped from left to right as he tried to keep his gaze on them while Wes spun him in a tight circle. He tap-tap-tapped Wes’s chest, jerking his chin at Nick and Colton as Colton held out his arms, assuming the lead dancer position.

  “I might step on your feet,” Nick said. “I’ve never danced the lady’s part before.”

  “Well, you know what they say.” Colton set his hand at the small of Nick’s back and pulled him close. They were almost eye to eye, but not quite. Colton was slightly taller and a lot broader than Nick. His tuxedo fit him like a second skin, flowing over the taut, thick lines of his muscled shoulders and arms. His narrow hips slotted against Nick’s, their thighs brushing as Colton took the first step. His body gently guided Nick, leading him to step back with his left foot as Colton moved forward with his right. “Nobody puts Baby in the corner.” Colton winked and they spun around Wes and Justin, mimicking their twirls and dips and flares, laughing so hard they sometimes missed a step.

  “Switch!” Colton called out to Wes, and he and Wes spun Nick and Justin outward, then let go, letting each man spin into the other partner’s arms. Nick ended up in Wes’s hold, one hand on Wes’s hip and the other in Wes’s hand. Wes kept his body a respectable distance from Nick’s.

  “Having fun?” Nick asked, breathless.

  Wes’s beaming smile said it all. His gaze drifted over Nick’s shoulder to where Colton was twirling Justin around and around and around, and Justin was laughing so hard he was almost hiccuping. “It feels like a dream,” Wes said.

  “Good answer. Loving my son should be a dream come true.”

  Wes barked out a laugh so loud it broke over the ballroom like a thunderclap. Justin pulled out of his endless twirls in Colton’s arms and called out to switch again. Wes spun Nick outward, and he passed Justin in a blur of smiles, ending up back in Colton’s embrace. Colton pulled him close as the trumpets blared, and then Colton dipped Nick on the final beat of the song.

  From his upside-down position, he saw Justin and Wes kissing, Justin’s arms winding around Wes’s neck, hands threading through Wes’s sweat-tinged hair. He felt Colton’s deep breaths, Colton’s chest moving against his own. Felt Colton’s thigh bracing his as the moment, the world, seemed to still.

  Then everything was a rush, and h
e was back upright. Colton and everyone else were clapping for the band. The lights were twinkling, and the world was a roar in Nick’s ears, a head rush from the dance and the heat of so many bodies making his heart race and his skin flush. Colton was on his left, Justin and Wes were on his right, all of them smiling, the air humming with their joy, so powerful he could feel it all over him, could breathe it in and hold it inside himself.

  This is all I want for Justin. All I ever wanted for my son. Pure, perfect happiness.

  His own nights of happiness were in the past, but as long as Justin was smiling like that, as long as Wes was there to keep loving him, Nick’s life would be set. If his son was as happy as this for the rest of his days, that was all that mattered.

  Hours later, the four walked shoulder to shoulder as they headed for Nick’s condo. Wes and Justin had their arms around each other, and Nick and Wes had pulled their bow ties loose, letting the ends dangle. Colton’s was askew, while Justin somehow still looked as manicured and put together as he had at the start of the evening. Easy conversation carried them through the lobby and into the elevator. Wes wrapped his arms around Justin from behind as Colton slouched against the back wall, his hands in his pockets.

  They went straight to Nick’s balcony, the wide stretch of concrete and glass that overlooked downtown and the college campus. Two of the three bedrooms and his living room opened to the balcony, which ran the width of the whole unit. He’d set up a grill at one end and a patio couch and wicker chairs around a low table at the other. Wes and Justin took up half the couch, even though they were practically sitting in each other’s laps, and Colton took the other half, throwing himself down in an ungainly sprawl that made the furniture creak and groan.