Page 23 of Hot Receiver

I’ve seen it in the tabloids, online, and on television whenever he’s photographed or interviewed.

Today, it’s missing.

And I’m torn between feeling happy something extinguished his light, and resentful that it wasn’t me.

Because if he cared…if he gave a damn at all…he never would have let me leave him again last night.

That should be enough for me to move the fuck on, but once again, I’m caught under his spell with no clue how to break free of it. Even after that mini-tirade outside the press conference.

Marc fields questions from the crowd. I try to tune in, but the ominous cloud hanging over me mutes the voices.

“Zak,” Marc says to me with a nod at the guy in the front row.

I turn my attention to him, trying like hell not to sneer.

“Mr. Kacey, you were an attendee of the fundraising event last night that Jase Maxwell and Lucas Bentley were hosting for their new charity organization. Is it true you were there looking to recruit more gay players for the Crusaders as your first order of business as owner?”

My mouth falls open. I sit straight up in the chair like the reporter just shoved a pole up my ass.

What the actual fuck?

Even Marc is speechless.

Now that the bastard put it out there, no matter what I say in response, they’ll always be suspicious of my motives.

Talk about a royal mind fuck.

I stare hard at the guy, wishing to hell that I could slit his throat with my eyes.

“I went to the event last night to show support to two players on my team and to raise awareness of a gaping need in our community to help underprivileged kids get opportunities that might not otherwise be available to them.” I fold my hands in front of me and rest them on the table, trying to keep the fury at bay. “Learning the necessary skills is important for long-term success, and with such prominent coaches, identifying and cultivating talent is a goal of the program. These kids lack the resources to take advantage of team sports, and working together as a team builds community and camaraderie in a constructive way.”

With a forced smile, I go in for the kill. “I’m sure you can appreciate the gravity of their situations. And while it stands to reason that you’re curious about my involvement, shining a questionable light on all the work that Mr. Bentley and Mr. Maxwell have done for the hope-deprived kids of the city seems…” I pause for a split second for effect. “Petty, don’t you think?”

The guy balks, a deep red stain seeping into his cheeks. Iswallow a laugh when he can barely choke out a stutter in response.

Marc’s jaw tenses, and he points to another guy.

Okay, I’m going to catch hell for that later, but really? Fuck that asshole for his dickhead question.

Next thing you know, the press will claim I’m in cahoots with the gay NFL population to host a Rainbow Bowl.

“Mr. Harrison, you and Mr. Kacey played for Ohio State together years ago, but how well did you really know him? Was he open about his sexuality?”

I grip the glass of water in front of me so hard, my knuckles turn white. It takes everything in me to keep from flinging it at the bastard’s head.

Matt leans forward to speak into his mic. “We were good friends. And as part of such a high-performing team, no, we didn’t focus on anything other than the game. His sexuality was his business, nobody else’s.”

The words fall from his lips so easily, like they aren’t dripping with bullshit.

My throat tightens, leg bouncing under the table. Marc stiffens.

This obviously isn’t the rah-rah bro-fest he had planned.

Marc points to a woman this time. “Renee.”

Renee stares at me with curious blue eyes. “Mr. Kacey, was it really your injury that led you to end your football career? Or was there something more happening behind the scenes? Or rather, in the locker room?”

Marc holds up a hand, and I swear I consider biting it off and spitting it out at that smug bitch.

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