Page 18 of Rocking the Receiver (Austin Troopers)

CHAPTER 18

IMPOSSIBLE

Rupert

Sporting sunglasses and a baseball cap to somewhat conceal my identity, I hop into Caitlin Cole’s grey sedan. The car couldn’t be less conspicuous, which is perfect. I appreciate that she asks me if I’d like background music to calm my nerves. Despite what brought us together, she teases me when I reply, “Anything but my music and The Beatles is fine.”

Then she proceeds to warn me about the media circus that awaits us. Elliot may be a rookie, but he’s a promising one; vultures thrive on the success and failure of NFL players, and are always chasing the next juicy story.

Secrecy is a bitch.

Because of it, I couldn’t attend my boyfriend of three years’ graduation. I hated being shunned. I hated that I couldn’t sit with his family and cheer his success. I hated that I had to wait for them to return to France to celebrate with him.

Instead, I managed to book a Whiskey Barrels concert in Tijuana so that I wouldn’t sulk while my successful man would walk across the stage to collect his BBA in Finance.

The point is, we don’t want Tim, more than anyone, to connect the dots.

Don’t get me wrong, I love what Elliot and I have and wouldn’t change a thing. Otherwise, our relationship wouldn’t be what it is now, and I’m perfectly content with it.

Throughout the short drive, Caitlin wears a mask of professionalism; no prying, no inappropriate questions.

I suspect that her constant rambling is her way of keeping my mind—and hers—occupied. It proves that she’s just as worried as I am, obviously for completely different reasons.

Hearing about Elliot’s football life from another perspective is refreshing. She recounts Gunner’s mentorship; he’s acted like a mother hen since meeting Elliot, and Caitlin says he must be crushed to retake the field after witnessing his protégé’s injury.

Her fondness for Elliot is evident in her tone, too. My boyfriend wasn’t exaggerating when he told me that this competitive team is also a caring one.

Noticing the hospital facilities from the road, I sigh for the umpteenth time.

The anxiety coiling in my stomach must be written all over my exhausted face because she feels the need to reassure me. “I’m no doctor, but I’m sure it’s gonna be okay, Rupert. This is nothing Doctor Rosie and I haven’t dealt with before. We’ll do everything to have Elliot back on the field in no time.” She pauses. “That’s probably not what you wanna hear… More risks… Sorry… You want him safe and sound, right?” There is no judgment in her eyes, and from what I’ve seen, she’s down to earth and driven.

I glance her way. “Don’t worry, I know what you mean, and thank you… for being there for me, and everything…”

“Don’t mention it.” She gestures with her free hand. “Who would have thought that working PR for an NFL player would lead to sitting with a member of The Whiskey Barrels?” She lets out a nervous chuckle. “Shut up, Caitlin,” she murmurs to herself, then speaks up again, “I promise, I’ll get over it soon!”

Her attempt to lighten the mood hits home. My tension eases, and the conversation flows as she navigates to find a parking spot that’s hidden from the public eye and will enable us to use a more concealed entrance. She sure knows her way around here.

I walk down the hospital corridor with her beside me, my heavy footsteps echoing on the drab tiles. The telltale hospital smell assaults my nostrils, bringing me back to darker times. Elliot had been my rock then; I’ll be his now.

My erratic heart hammers in my chest with every step I take closer to him .

In turn, the weight of the situation registers. Elliot injured his ankle, but the diagnosis is pending. At this point, nobody knows when he’ll be able to play again. I’m his emergency contact, but we’re not even supposed to truly know each other. His family must be worried sick… But wait until the shit hits the fan, and the truth about us is eventually revealed! I can’t even start to imagine their reaction.

I did text Tim so that he wouldn’t look for me once the shock has subsided. I simply told him the truth: He should be with his family, and I’ll see him soon. I didn’t have the heart to text anything revealing the true nature of my absence.

I would have preferred to be brave enough to confess my secrets to Tim. Our regular talks include off-limit topics, and I’m never the one bringing up Elliot.

The sight of the man I love going down, clutching his ankle, had me frozen in the stands and will forever be carved in my memory… Because, yes, I’m very much aware that I’m in love and have been for longer than I care to admit. He deserves to hear the words that I never dared to utter for fear of making him freak out and reevaluate our commitment. The fact that we recently moved in together proves that we’re serious, but our age difference on top of our choice to fly under the radar troubles me. What if he finds someone his age who’s not closeted?

Shaking my head to chase the gloomy thought away, I will myself to get a grip; I’m here for Elliot, overanalyzing will have to wait.

A pang of unease washes over me for keeping Elliot’s family in the dark for now. I shoot a quick text to Chris, who’s surely watching the game, to inform him that I’ll keep him posted. His immediate thank you brings warmth to my pained heart.

We near his room, and Caitlin gives me a reassuring nod. The doctor we met upon our arrival is the one who took care of Elliot when he checked in with Doctor Rosie, whose name isn’t actually that. Not that it matters since the doctor confirmed I could see Elliot for now as tests and scans will soon follow to assess his exact condition. He said that he’s been responsive so far, yet painkillers had to be administered due to a headache and ankle swelling.

Damn!

Caitlin pushes open the door, whispering that she’s gonna go find Doctor Rosie and will come back in a bit. I can barely breathe. “Thanks for giving us privacy.”

“You’re welcome.”

I timidly step into the room, and there he is—my lover, my boyfriend, my Elliot—lying in the hospital bed. My mouth goes dry when I realize how pale and disoriented he looks.

I make a point to look him in the eye rather than stare at the massive ice pack on his ankle. It must hurt like hell. I push down my impulse to rush to his bedside and squeeze him in a comforting hug. I remind myself that the nurse warned me he might be out of it because of the painkillers they gave him once the possibility of a concussion had been ruled out.

He may be groggy, but he has to set the pace, not me.

His eyes flutter open as the door clicks shut. He stares blankly at me for a tad too long. Is he trying to remember where he is? Is he trying to figure out who I am? Is he trying to figure out if I’m real? Then, a small, sleepy grin tugs at the corner of his luscious mouth.

“Hey,” he murmurs, his voice raspy. “You came.”

“Of course, I came,” I reply, forcing my voice to stay steady, though relief is flooding me. “You always make me come for you, babe,” I joke, moving closer to the bed and snatching a chair on the way.

He smirks, hisses, and complains softly, “You shouldn’t make me laugh… My ribs are aching.” His hand reaches out for mine, his grip weak but warm.

I kiss his knuckles, which oddly soothes my soul. “Sorry. It’s just good to see you… awake.”

I can see the confusion in his deep brown eyes, then a flicker of recognition. “I can’t believe I fucked up. Third game, and I screwed up!” His self-deprecation guts me.

I squeeze his hand and sit down on the edge of the bed. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. You went down pretty hard, babe. Soon we’ll know what’s going on, then you’ll have a game plan to your recovery. You’ll be okay… eventually. You need some rest first.”

His face falls a little. Turning his head slightly to look at me, he grimaces as he moves. “But what about the team? They took my phone from me.” He grunts. “What time is it? Did they win?” He pauses, averting his gaze. “Am I... out?”

My heart sinks at the worry in his eyes. He’s always so focused, so determined. Needless to say that the thought of being benched is killing him. I brush a strand of hair from his damp forehead.

“Hey, don’t think about that right now. You just need to heal, and you’ll be back out there in no time. You rocked today. This,” I gesture at the hospital bed, “is just a bump in the road.” I lean in closer and deposit a gentle kiss on his dry lips. “Just know that I’m here, and you’re going to be okay. We’ll get through this together.”

For a minute, it's just us, holding hands. The fear, the shock, and the uncertainty all fade away. Everything is right in the world again. He’s here. He’s okay… and he’s perfect.

“I should get going.” I stand up but remain near him while I reluctantly clue him in. “I left the game without telling your family.” I probably should have suggested riding to see Elliot with them. “Well, I sent Tim a short text after I split.” I berate myself for being so selfish, and my front teeth gnaw at my lower lip. Fidgeting on the bed, he hisses as he leans closer to me, his thumb gently releasing my lip. Screw selfishness, I needed a moment with him. Alone. “Your parents will be here any minute now.” I eventually notice the crease between his brows. “What is it?”

His eyes zoom in on me. “I think it’s time, Rupert.”

“Time for what?” Is he saying what I think he is?

“To tell them.” His fingers intertwine with mine. “About me, and us… Your mom knows, I think they should be on the same page. We don’t have to tell the rest of the world right now…”

“You’re ready to come out to your family?”

“If you’re on board with the idea… I mean, it also implies that you come out to them… my entire family.”

“Actually, I was with them at the game. Tim texted to say if I was anywhere near Austin, I should tag along.” As I come clean, a myriad of emotions runs across his face. Amusement. Disbelief. Doubt. “I couldn’t refuse, although, as you know, he believes I still live in Chelsea.” That’s why we agreed to keep our relationship under wraps during his family’s stay, and I checked into a nearby hotel.

“Please, Rupert.” His fingers tighten around mine before letting go. “Stay.”

Am I ready, though?

It’s a much bigger step for him than it is for me.

So, if he’s ready, then I’m ? —

I don’t have time to form a complete thought or mull over my decision: The door swings open, and I feel him tense beside me.

Tilting my head, I watch his parents walk in. Their faces are a mask of concern and confusion, their brows furrow in distress. The coward in me is relieved that Tim isn’t with them. His mom’s eyes narrow slightly as she takes in the scene.

Caught between my boyfriend’s request and the weight of his parents’ curious stares, my face heats up before my breathing techniques limit my embarrassment.

Ah, the joy of being a redhead with my emotions displayed for everyone to see!

Elliot’s beautiful face doesn’t hide his feelings. Resolve. Hope. Defiance. That’s my man!

“Hey, Mom.” His voice much stronger than earlier. Uncertainty flashes in his eyes.

I can tell he’s strategizing, probably on how to get straight to the point.

Glancing at me, he shoots me a confident smile before staring back at her. “Guess today’s game didn’t exactly play out as expected, huh?” He shrugs. His laser gaze finds his father’s, finally acknowledging him with a quick nod.

“Dad.”