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When he was finished, he leaned back against the cabinet and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Your heart rate is a little higher than normal, but the emotional stress you’re going through is probably the reason for that. Why don’t you come over to the house this afternoon? We’ll grill some steaks, and I can feed you.”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not very good company right now.”
“I know, but we are.” He put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “Let us help, Patrick. Even if it’s just not being alone for a while. If you don’t want to talk about it, you don’t have to. Just let us do what we do best. You don’t have to grieve for your relationship alone. And who knows? Maybe we’ll inspire you to try to fix it.”
Huffing out a chuckle, I nodded. “Yeah, maybe. Can I let you know?”
“Sure. Let me grab you a couple high protein shakes before you lift. Drink one now and the other one after you finish.”
I nodded and got off the table as he walked into the other room. He was right. I was grieving for something I’d allowed to happen. All my friends here were happily married and hadn’t had any issues that I knew of. I really felt alone since I was the only queer player on the defense.
I’d been hiding who I was for so long that it’s all I knew how to do.
I’d seen firsthand what could happen. And it made me angry.
Simon came back in and handed me a couple bottles of a new blend of protein. I opened it and downed one, then tossed the container in the trashcan.
“Let me know about dinner. I’ve got to go up and see Greer, but I’ll be back by later,” he said, clapping me on the back before he walked out.
As I headed toward the leg press machine, the more I thought about how this was all my fault and that I should have been on tour with them, the angrier I got. We were supposed to be together on this tour. I’d never gone this long without talking to or seeing him.
I set the machine to 300 pounds and noticed several of my teammates had come in. Locke and Cantrell upnodded me as the asshole I hated came strolling in.
“What are you doing here, Griffin? Thought you’d be off with your friends this summer.” The way he said friends made my blood boil.
Clay Turner was the biggest asshole on this team. He fit like a round peg in a square hole. I ignored him most of the time, but sometimes it was all I could do not to punch the fuck out of him. When I didn’t respond, he just kept on as usual.
“I heard on the radio that both of your best friends are gay, Griffin. What does that make you since you boys are so tight?”
I breathed through my nose and tried to calm my racing heart. “Shut the fuck up, Turner.”
He laughed like the ignorant son-of-a-bitch he was. “Come on, Griffin. You can tell me,” he said, walking closer. “I’ve never seen you with a woman. Must mean you’re gay too.”
Anger boiled up inside me as I clenched my jaw. “I’m warning you, Turner. You better back the fuck off if you know what’s good for you.”
Clay cackled at my threat, like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. “What’s the matter, Griffin? You think they’re doing each other on tour, and you’re missing out?”
That was it. He’d gone and said the wrong thing.
I got up from my machine on wobbly legs, but stalked toward him. Fury like I’d never known was building from his words and pain coursing through me, so I got in his face and gave him one more warning. “I’m telling you right now to shut your fucking mouth before I do it for you!”
Clay Turner flipped a switch in me that I wasn’t sure I could turn off. When he put his hands on my chest and shoved me, I snapped. I was not a physically violent person, but when I reached my limit with this asshole, that was it.
Rearing back, I balled up my right fist and slammed it into his face. His head whipped to the side as the sound of cracking bones and screams of agony from pain reverberated around the room.
Clay came at me in a rage with a bloody nose and fire in his eyes. He got in one punch to my gut before I punched him again. This time, I left his lip bleeding before we were wrenched apart by our teammates.
“Don’t you ever fucking say another goddamn word to me, Turner. Or I’ll make sure you eat soup the rest of the season,” I yelled.
He wiped at the blood trickling from his lip as he tried to get back over to me, but Cantrell was a big motherfucker and held him back.
“What the fuck is going on in here?” Coach yelled, stomping into the room. “We don’t do this shit on my team!”
Martin Locke, one of the defensive linemen, had me around the chest, pulling me back. Cantrell had the bleeding asshole.
Simon came in and took one look at me, then at Clay. The blood dripping from Turner’s nose and lip caught his eye. He moved closer and stood in front of him. “I need to look at your nose.”
