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He lets me but seems surprised at first, stiffening before relaxing and kissing me back.

“Bring a bag,” I tell him.

“Yes, sir.”

Just like every other time, I hope no one recognizes me as I leave Lucas’s place. My house is more private, and we won’t have to worry about that. Plus, I want him in my space, want to be with him there, surrounded by my things, so he leaves behind good feelings there too.

I text Lucas my address. I moved after Ellis died, hadn’tbeen able to be in the space we shared. Too many memories. Laughs, touches, arguments, the place where I delivered my betrayal…on the day he died.

I get to the practice facility, and Coach has us do a light workout before going over film and what we need to do to win on Sunday. When that’s done, I take an ice bath, get a massage, and after a quick trip to the trainer, I head home. It’s after five, and traffic is a bitch. I have no idea when to expect Lucas. I shower and change, throw on a pair of lounge pants, then turn on some music. I have salmon in the fridge, so I get that ready to cook, planning rice and broccoli with it.

My phone rings on the counter, and I smile, wondering if it’s Lucas telling me he’s on his way. When I see it’s Desmond, I’m both disappointed and glad. I haven’t talked to my best friend in a few weeks.

Desmond and I met in college, played together for all four years, before getting drafted to different teams. Des was the first person to really have my back on the team, making sure everyone knew he wasn’t down for any homophobia bullshit. My game has always spoken for me, but back in college, before it meant as much as it does now, Des had spoken for me, and I’ll always be grateful for his friendship. He knows me better than anyone.

“Hey, man,” I say, hearing the smile in my voice.

“What’s up, brother?” he says with that thick, husky voice.

“Not much. Just making dinner.”

“You played your ass off last night. Three and O so far. You gonna keep that record until you play us and we beat you?”

“You can fuck off with that shit. I love beating you at home.” Des plays for KC and Coach Blake. They don’t have the best relationship. Des hates him, but he does his best topretend otherwise.

“Nah, man. That shit ain’t happening on my watch,” he jokes back, the two of us busting each other’s balls, before he says, “You sound different.”

I do? It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask, but what comes out is, “Shut the fuck up.”

“For real. You sound good, man. Lighter. You’re playing like it too. What’s going on with you?”

Lucas. I’m spending time with Lucas, and he makes me feel…free.

Of course, I can’t say that. No one can know about Lucas and me, not even Des, even though I trust him. I’d feel like too much of a piece of shit if he knew. At least if this is just between Lucas and me, I can pretend I’m not doing the absolute worst thing.

“Nothing. I just…fuck, Des. I’m tired of being tired. I don’t have the energy for it anymore. Maybe that’ll change tomorrow or next week, but right now, I just want to be me.” Whoever the fuck that is.

“Good. That’s real good. You deserve it. I know you don’t think you do because—”

“I don’t want to talk about that,” I cut him off.

Desmond chuckles. “I feel you. I won’t push it, but whatever it is you’re doing, keep doing it, all right? I’m not playing. I miss you being happy.”

I sigh, leaning against the counter, reminding myself how lucky I am to have him in my life—Des and Lucas both. “I miss being happy too.” As wild as it sounds, considering the life I’ve been given, I haven’t felt lucky in a long time.

We shoot the shit for a while longer, me getting distracted from cooking dinner before the doorbell rings. A smile pulls at my lips. “I gotta go, Des.”

“Don’t think I didn’t hear that doorbell.”

“I gotta go,” I say again.

“I’m happy for you, brother.” The sincerity in his voice settles something inside me, but still, I feel the need to be honest.

“It’s not what you think.” How can it be? Not with the history between us. Even if that wasn’t there or I wanted to give it a try, I doubt Lucas would. He’s not the relationship type, and despite my behavior the past couple of years, I always have been. That aside, all it would do is ruin his relationship with his family even more. I couldn’t handle being the one responsible.

“I hope it is. You deserve it. I wish you’d see that.”

I don’t know how to change that and doubt I ever will. “Thanks. Talk to you soon, man.”