Page 34 of The Last Guy On Earth
My sister clears her throat.
I let out a sigh. “Tate, that’s a really nice thing to say, and you’ve been amazing to work with on this announcement. But maybe save that bravery trophy for Newgate. Because…” I swallow. “I’m also a queer man in professional sports. But I never did what Newgate is doing tonight.”
Tate blinks. And then, to his credit, he recovers awfully fast. “Thank you, Coach, for sharing your truth with me. I understand how hard that can be.”
“We’re going to find out, aren’t we?” I glance out the window, where a news truck is now visible in the parking lot. “Thanks for all your hard work. Safe to say that I appreciate it.”
“Yessir,” he says. “More updates later.” Then he disappears, closing the door behind himself.
Kait gives me an amused glance and shakes her head. “Keep it together, Coach Powers. Tonight is going to be great whether you’re ready or not.”
I sure hope she’s right.
FIFTEEN
Fifteen Years Ago
MARCH
Snow is thawinginto slush outside their hotel in Connecticut. The Brutes have just finished up a five-game road trip, where they picked up four points and secured their playoffs slot. And Jethro only let in one goal tonight, so he’s in an uncommonly good mood.
He looks around the lobby, seeing a beer in every one of his teammates’ hands. They’re all in a partying mood, even if they’ll be getting up at four a.m. for the bus ride home.
Clay, ever the social director, has brought his PlayStation to the hotel bar, and he’s bribed a bartender to let him set it up with one of the bar’s TVs. Jethro watches with amusement while Clay organizes a tournament—with brackets drawn on a napkin—for a driving game calledTrack Wars.
Jethro doesn’t volunteer to play, but Clay puts him down as his partner anyway. Jethro isn’t much of a gamer. He’s never had the cash for a console and doesn’t understand the controls super well.
Clay’s competitive streak is clearly annoyed with him. “Fucks sake!” he crows after Jethro’s car gets totaled yet again. “You have to downshift when the skid starts. See?” He reaches aroundJethro’s body and drags his thumb onto the right button. “Hit these both at thesame time, or we’re gonna lose in the first round.”
Jethro, conditioned to listen to whatever Clay says, gives the move a try. “Cool. Thanks.”
“Aww, look at you two!” crows Trey Duckson. He’s a very stupid defenseman for whom there’s no shortage of terrible nicknames. “You cuddle like that at home, too? So fucking gay.”
There’s instant laughter, and Jethro goes ice cold inside.
Clay releases him and straightens up, but Jethro tenses. This is the second time Duckson’s made a comment like that, and Jethro wonders what Clay will say.
“Oh no!” his roommate bellows. “Is Fucksonjealous? Do you need a hug, too?” He throws his arms open and staggers, Frankenstein-style, toward the asshole.
“No! Shit.” Duckson smacks Clay away with the hand that’s not holding a cheap beer. “Just saying—all the love in the world can’t make your boy a champion. Jetty is hopeless.”
Your boy. Something uncomfortable slithers inside Jethro’s chest. He can feel eyes on him, and it stings like a bad sunburn.
“Not as hopeless as that thing you call a beard.” Clay lunges, trying to get a handful of the untrimmed nightmare on Duckson’s chin. “Oh God, itmoved. I think there’s a family of possums in there.”
Everybody laughs again. Everybody but Jethro. No matter how skillfully Clay skated around Duckson’s comment, Jethro’s still heavy with dread.
Not Clay, though. He claps his hands. “Okay, kids. Who wants to play next?”
Jethro forces himself to turn and pass the controller into someone else’s waiting hands. Then he excuses himself to go up to use the bathroom in their room, and somehow never makes it back downstairs.
A few hours later, he hears Clay enter their hotel room. It’s past midnight, and they’re getting up at four. In spite of the late hour, Clay stops by his bed. “Jetty, you okay?”
No. He really isn’t. And for the first time ever, he ignores Clay and pretends to be asleep.
Owing to a very long bus ride and the general air of exhaustion, Jethro is able to nurse his discomfort without Clay noticing.
Clay seems his usual self when they finally get home—moving around the kitchen, pulling things out of the fridge to see what’s still edible. Sniffing the milk. Then he declares a state of emergency and drives off to the grocery store.
